[16]

Cartoons VS Rom-Coms

"Don't kill me, I just want to ask you a question," Wade began slowly, leaning through the space between door and doorframe. Charles nudged against Wade's calves, his tongue searching for a way in. Wade held his pet's leash tightly. 

   Skipper was perched on the bed, wincing and treating her skin with aftersun aloe lotion. She was rather red. 

   Barely glancing at him, she continued to rub the green goop over her arms and answered curtly, "Depends on the nature of the question."

   He pulled back a little. "I promise a well-intended inquiry."

   "Big words for such a little boy," she mocked. "Come in here instead of standing with your face in the door like a weirdo."

   "If you insist." He stepped in and let Charles run past him, shutting the door once his anteater's tail was out of the way. Charles bounded over to the bed and gave Skipper a friendly slurp on the face before curling up at the side of the bed and blinking contentedly. Wade continued to stand by the door and make things awkward. 

   Subtly, Skipper reached down to give Charles a pet on the snout. "What's this well-intended inquiry?"

   "Well... I guess I want to know why you're not bald?"

   She blinked at him, attempting to process such a ridiculous question, and ended up laughing so hard that it hurt her skin. "Because I'm not doing chemo, idiot," she finally sputtered. 

   Wade felt dumb and maybe even a little hurt. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to counter the remark without coming off as offensive. He didn't appreciate feeling like he was on thin ice. 

   "Why...why aren't you doing chemo?" Pulling his beanie off, he twisted it in his hands. His blond-brown hair was flat in some places and sticking up oddly in others.

   "I agreed to one question," she answered primly, wagging her head as she pumped more aloe into her hands and ran it down her right leg. 

   "Okay." His voice was barely audible. He put his beanie on again, covering his eyes briefly as he did so. 

   "You should try not wearing a hat. You'll go bald if you keep wearing one." She finished applying the aloe and sat back, wincing. Everything burned and she had a raging headache.

   "Hey, I didn't wear one when we went swimming."

   "As soon as your hair was dry, you put it back."

   "Maybe I like beanies."

   "It looks kinda dumb."

   "So does your face." He bit his lip, scared he'd crossed the line. 

   "Nah, it looks like a tomato," she shrugged, still wincing slightly.

   "You shouldn't let the sun cook you like that." He was now brave enough to cross the room and kneel beside his pet, giving Charles some nice scratches and back rubs. 

   "I didn't think I'd burn so easily. I was wearing sunblock."

   Wade smirked, recalling the argument they'd had in the car about that. He didn't believe in sunscreen. Honestly, it did more harm than good. No wonder she had cancer. Wade never wore sunblock, and he was perfectly fine.

   "I didn't wear any. Look who's not burned."

   Skipper lazily stretched across the bed and lobbed a pillow at him. "Rub it in, surfer boy. Some of us don't tan."

   Rolling his eyes, he tossed the pillow back and it hit the headboard. "Maybe some of us just shouldn't wear sunscreen when they already have cancer."

   "Don't start. I'll kick you out."

   "Fine. I'll go back to the States and leave you here."

   She stuck her tongue out at him briefly before falling completely silent. She was in a lot of pain and could feel her energy depleting rapidly. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten to pack a bigger sunhat. 

   "Could you do me a favor real quick?" she finally mumbled, barely lifting her head from the blanket. Wade twisted to look at her.

   "What?"

   "In my backpack, in the front pouch, there's a medicine sorter. Could you bring it to me?"

   "Uh, sure. Are you feeling okay?" His tone immediately changed at this request, and he got up at once to retrieve the medicine. He found some of that pamplemousse juice stuff she liked in the room's mini fridge and brought that to her as well. She took them with an exhausted look of gratitude, quickly locating the pills she needed and knocking them back. Hopefully, this would help curb the feelings of nausea brought on by the sunburn.

   Sipping on the cold drink, she handed the sorter back to Wade and nodded for him to put it back where he'd gotten it. This exchange was done in complete wordlessness, and Wade felt a strange sense of concern welling up inside him. Would the sunburn make her even sicker than she was? How sick was she, actually? Why wasn't she doing chemo? Wasn't chemo supposed to help?

   These questions bounced around his head in a mad jumble, creating an overwhelming sense of helplessness. This was entirely out of his control. Her stakes were high if the doctors had given her such a short sentence. But she seemed okay, most days. How much did it hurt? Could she feel it? Why was she even traveling when she was sick? Weren't people like her supposed to visit doctors regularly? 

   He didn't think it was his place to ask her such questions, so out of respect for her headache he merely drew the blinds and roused Charles to leave the room. He was just slipping out when she popped her head up and called after him, "Where are you going?"

   "Uh...back to my room? Letting you rest?"

   "Come back. We can watch cartoons or something."

   "But you're sick."

   "It's not contagious," she rolled her eyes, sitting up and reaching for the TV remote. "C'mon, let's watch SpongeBob or something."

   "I'll put Charles away first."

   "He can stay, it's fine." She waved him over. In mild confusion, Wade ambled back to the bedside and sat down, petting Charles until the creature flopped down next to him. With a light hiss of pain, Skipper lay on her stomach on the bed, flipping through TV channels. Wade stared dully at the screen, the back of his mind preoccupied with thoughts he wasn't sure he should be having. Was he supposed to care that his client was sick? Common sense dictated that it was not a bad thing to care, but part of him–likely the part that still harbored prejudice planted by his peers–thought it was stupid. He didn't have a right to care. He hadn't cared enough in high school, why should now be any different?

   His head suddenly felt a little colder, and he realized Skipper had pulled off his beanie. She looked smug, and was happily sipping her pomegranate juice thingy while watching whatever dumb cartoon she'd chosen. 

   When she noticed she'd caught his attention, she wrinkled her nose. "What's your favorite thing to watch?"

   "Oh, we're gonna play 20 Questions, are we?" He countered, doing his best to pack down the weird thoughts he'd been absorbed in. 

   She shrugged. "If you don't mind."

   "Well, I'm not much of a TV guy. I like movies."

    "What kind?"

   "Rom-Coms and drama."

   "You're kidding."

   He shook his head. "I am not. And you may not use it as ammo against me, either."

   Her eyes were wide, and she was holding in laughter. The cartoon on the TV became a mere background sound as she said, "As if I would! I didn't take you for the hopeless romantic type. But...seeing as you're doughy and single, maybe I can see it."

   Wade's brows knit themselves into a frown. "See. You used it against me."

   "Oh, boohoo. Learn to take a joke."

   "Me? WOW WOW WOW. You should talk, missy."

   Wagging her head, she giggled and asked in a low voice, "What's your favorite Rom-com?"

   "Not telling. It'll only serve as fodder."

   Throwing her head back, wincing at the pain it caused, she laughed harder. "Dude, no. I didn't think we had anything in common. Here," she reached for her phone and pulled up her TV app, swiping through her library to show him her favorite movies and shows. He saw a lot that he enjoyed. 

   More common ground? Actual basis for connectivity?

   Get out of town.

   "This is weird," he rubbed the back of his neck.

   "Kinda nice, really. I thought we were complete opposites." Smiling, she took the remote and began searching the TV settings to see if she could share her screen to it. "Wanna watch one with me, instead of cartoons?"

   "Uh...sure."

   "Coolio." She went silent as she managed to connect the TV to her phone, then nodded to the library. "Pick one."

   He did, and as she pressed play she asked, "Why rom-coms and drama though?"

   "My mom and grandma watched a lot of soap operas." He shrugged. "I always hated them, though. I don't really like television series as much as I like movies. The cinematography is different." 

   "Interesting." Taking another sip from her drink, she turned her attention to the movie. She hadn't seen it in ages. Wade, of course, was not going to tell her that this was indeed his favorite movie, nor was he going to tell her that this was the movie that had inspired him to go to film school.

   That was a dream that had been crushed very early on.