Spreading My Legs Wide Open

5: Come see me tonight?

~ Evie ~

My stomach's churning like I swallowed a rock. I barely make it to the bathroom before everything from dinner comes rushing back up. This hits me out of nowhere, right after everyone leaves the party. One minute I'm laughing with cousins, the next I'm dying in here.

I flush and rinse my mouth, but my legs feel wobbly. I stagger back to the living room, where Dad and Claire are picking up plates. Jack's in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. They all stop when they see me.

"Evie? You okay?" Dad asks, drops the stack of napkins and rushes over, hand on my forehead. "You're pale as hell. And clammy."

Claire's right behind him, eyes wide. "What happened? Sit down, sweetie."

I collapse onto the couch, the same one where Jack and I... no, can't think about that now. My head's spinning. "I don't know. Just... sick. All of a sudden."

Jack pokes his head out from the kitchen, frowning. "Since when?"

"Like, right after the party ended." I press a hand to my stomach. It gurgles loud enough for everyone to hear. Great.

Dad's pacing now. "We need to get you to a doctor. This could be food poisoning. Or worse. Remember that time your uncle got salmonella from bad chicken? He was in the hospital for days."

Claire nods, grabbing her phone. "I'll call the ER. Better safe."

"No, wait." I wave them off weakly. "It's probably nothing. Just... let me lie down."

But Dad's not having it. "Evie, you're not moving until we figure this out. Jack, get her some water."

By morning, it's worse. I wake up drenched in sweat, chills running through me. My whole body's aching, like I got hit by a truck. I try to get out of bed, but the room tilts. "Dad?" I call out, voice croaky.

He bursts in, Claire trailing. "Oh, honey. You look awful." He feels my forehead again. "Fever. Definitely fever."

Claire's wringing her hands. "We should've gone last night. I'm calling the doctor now."

Jack hovers in the doorway, looking worried for real. "Need anything, Evie?"

I shake my head, but inside I'm freaking. What if this is serious? I don't want to be stuck in a hospital. And yeah, selfishly, no more sneaking around with Jack if I'm laid up.

The doctor comes, house call, because Dad insists. He checks me over, pokes around. "Could be a virus. Or something you ate. Rest, fluids, monitor it."

But Dad's not convinced. "Monitor? She's my only kid. What if it's appendicitis? Or... God, what if it's something chronic?"

Claire pats his arm. "Let's not panic yet."

Too late. Dad's full-on panic mode. He sets up camp in my room, bringing soup, checking my temp every hour. Claire's fluttering around, changing sheets, wiping surfaces like germs are the enemy. Jack sneaks in when he can, squeezing my hand quick when no one's looking. "Hang in there," he whispers.

By day three, I'm not better. Fever's up and down, stomach's a war zone. I can barely keep crackers down. Everyone's tense. Dad's calling the doctor again, demanding tests. "She's not improving! What if she's... what if we're missing something big?"

I hear him in the hall with Claire. "I can't lose her, Claire. She's all I've got left from... you know." His voice cracks. Talking about Mom, I guess. She died when I was little.

Claire's soothing him. "She's tough. But yeah, this is scary."

Jack's in here more, but we keep it innocent. His worry feels real, though. Makes me feel guilty for wanting him even now.

Day four, still sick. They're talking hospital now. Dad's packing a bag. "We can't wait anymore. What if it's not a virus? What if she's dying?"

That's when it hits me, I need to turn this around. Not just for me, but to deal with Aunt Linda. She's the real poison here. Watching us at the party, sniffing around. If I'm stuck in bed, she might show up "to help," and then we're screwed.

I wait till everyone's in my room, hovering. Dad's got the car keys. Claire's holding my coat. Jack's looking helpless.

"Wait," I say, sitting up a bit. My voice is weak, but I make it shaky on purpose. "I think... I know what's wrong."

Dad freezes. "What? Tell me."

"It's not food or a virus." I pause, swallow hard. Let the tension build. "It's... spiritual. Like, bad energy in the house."

Claire blinks. "What do you mean?"

I look right at her. "Aunt Linda. Every time she comes over, she brings this... negativity. Complaints, suspicions, always stirring stuff up. And after she leaves, the house feels heavy. Like, weighed down."

Dad frowns. "Linda? Come on, Evie."

"No, Dad, listen." I push myself up more, wincing for effect. "She showed up with that attitude again at the party. Whining about everything, eyeing people like she's got dirt on them. And right after, I get sick? It's not a coincidence."

Claire shifts, glancing at Dad. She doesn't say anything, but I see a nod starting.

I keep going, natural, like I'm just spilling what's on my mind. "Remember how she always arrives griping? 'Traffic was hell,' 'Food's too salty,' 'Why's everyone so quiet?' It's exhausting. And her suspicions, think everyone's hiding something."

Jack's quiet, but his eyes meet mine. He gets it. Backing me up without a word.

"And the house... it feels off after she's gone. Heavy, like I said. I even joke sometimes that we need prayers after her visits. To cleanse the vibe."

Claire chuckles a little, tense. "I've felt that too, honestly."

Yes. Hook her.

I amp it up, light tone but serious underneath. "She's like a witch, you know? In a funny way. Appears in my dreams sometimes, scaring the crap out of me. Floating around, pointing fingers."

Dad snorts, but it's half-hearted. "Evie..."

"I'm serious, Dad. Old stories - remember how she misreads everything? Like that time she thought the neighbor was stealing mail, but it was just the dog knocking it over? Or gossiping about Cousin Sarah's 'secret baby,' which was a damn pillow under her shirt for laughs?"

Claire's nodding more now. "Yeah, that was awkward."

"And Christmas? Every time Aunt Linda visits, there's tension. Remember that one where she accused Uncle Bob of flirting with the waitress? Ruined the whole dinner. She's an emotional liability. Drains everyone."

Dad's quiet, thinking. "But she's family."

"Family that makes me sick." I let my voice crack. "Literally. What if this is... moral panic stuff? Like, her negativity's poisoning us. Spiritually. I read about it - bad energy can make you physically ill."

Claire's eyes widen. "I've heard that. Like, toxic people affecting your health."

"Exactly." I look at Dad, pleading. "If she comes back, it'll get worse. I'm scared, Dad. What if I don't get better?"

That does it. His face crumples. "Okay. Okay, no more visits from Linda. I promise. I'll talk to her myself."

Claire nods fast. "I'll make sure she's not welcome. For now, at least."

Relief floods me, but I keep it hidden. "Thanks. I feel a little better already."

Dad hugs me careful. "We'll skip the hospital. Rest more. But if it doesn't improve..."

"It will." I smile weak. Inside. Victory. Linda's out. Jack and I are safe - for now.

They leave me to sleep, but my mind's racing. What if she pushes back? Shows up anyway? And this sickness - is it really from her, or just stress from hiding us? God, I need Jack. Soon.

As the door clicks shut, I hear Dad on the phone already. "Linda? Yeah, we need to talk..."

I close my eyes, then, Jack texts: "Smart move. Miss you."

I text back: "Come see me tonight?"

"Risky."

"Worth it."

He doesn't reply right away. My heart pounds. Please.

Then, finally:

"Midnight."

Yes. The ache's back, but different now. Not sickness anymore.

Need.

Midnight...