Free Checked Again by Jennifer Jamelli

got to try to get out of this mess.
    After
a slow count of three and a forced, belabored inhale, I squeeze my toes, trying
to clench the little broken piece of flip-flop plastic…trying to see if I can
somehow manage to hold the shoe together and walk.
    I
try one step, but I can’t do it. The flip-flop falls, and my foot crashes back
down to the ground, splashing my toes with puddle water. My chest tightens,
turns into a stone. My stomach starts making gurgling noises. My brain begins
spinning.
    Anything
could be on this sidewalk, floating around in these puddles of water. Spit.
Gum. Cigarette butts. Band-Aids.
    I
feel the rising in my throat only a second before I begin throwing up, adding a
whole new level of disgusting to the ground beneath me.
    What
germs are on this sidewalk…in this puddle? What germs are touching my foot
right now? If I have any tiny little cuts somewhere on my toes, different
diseases are probably starting to—
    My
reflexes fling my head down, and I start throwing up again. Another sob flies
out of my mouth as I finish. I lift my head up to the sky to let the rain pour
over my face and—
    “Callie?
Callie? Hold on. I’m almost—”
    He’s
here.
    I
feel him. I smell him. I breathe him.
    Standing
right in front of me.
    {Damien
and Jordin now sing at the same time—both fighting to be heard.}
    I
lower my head slowly, rain and tears streaming over my face.
    Our.
Eyes. Meet.
    I
inhale slowly.
    His
eyes…his eyes seem to understand. They understand everything.
    Without
any questions or words or even syllables, he lowers the phone from his ear,
putting it into his pocket. He takes my phone out of my hand, off of my ear,
and slides it into an opening in my purse. Then he leans his body down
and…and…he…he…scoops one arm under my legs and…and the other around the back of
my neck. Pulling me against him. So tight. My body starts to shake under the
warmth of his arm…his skin against the back of my neck.
    Oh
my God.
    He’s…he’s
here…he’s holding me…so close.
    My
body, now completely shaking, starts to fall into his—
    NO.
No, Callie.
    I
do my best to not lean into him as he carries me.
    I
close my eyes as he begins to walk both of us toward the parking lot, leaving
my broken flip-flop behind. I keep my eyes shut as he walks briskly ahead. The
skin of his arm burns against the back of my neck. My body continues to shake.
My head repeatedly falls into his strong shoulder, his warm body, but I keep
doing everything I can to pull it back up. Straight up.
    I
lose my focus, though, as I begin to feel the rain slide over my foot, my
filthy foot. I’m sure it’s infected already…whatever germs and diseases were on
that sidewalk, in that puddle, have probably already somehow seeped into my
body and started to run through my blood stream, and—
    And
I feel another rise in my throat. I spin my head away from him and mumble,
trying to warn him. He stops walking immediately and just holds me in place as
what now almost has to be the rest of the contents of my stomach comes tumbling
out, joining the rain on its travel to the ground.
    Eventually,
it stops. The throwing up stops. I stop shaking. I freeze.
    I
stay where I am…leaning over, head pointed toward the ground. A repulsive mess.
    I
force my mouth open and spit out the words “Just move” as loud as I can manage,
hoping he’ll hear me.
    He
does.
    “Callie,
no. Put your head up on my shoulder.”
    I
can’t.
    When
I remain frozen in place, frozen rigidly in his arms, he speaks again in a slow
whisper. “Callie, please. Just let me take care of you.”
    I
can’t. You left. You left. You left.
    My
eyes begin to fill again. I don’t move. We remain there, motionless, while the
rain picks up even more.
    {Damien
sings all by himself now. Slowly. Sadly.}
    After
at least a dozen counts of three, he releases a sigh and then again begins
walking toward the parking lot, carrying me toward the parking lot. We move in
silence. But my head