It's a brilliant roman candleCaleb came upstairs to say hello after finding out how sick I was from the bill he was probably emailed by the doctor this morning. House calls aren't cheap. Out of pocket healthcare is his responsibility, by his own request. It's been this way through thick and thin.
That separates the day from the night
It's that clean, clear truth
That sorts our the wrong from the right
You and your face of light
He brought me beautiful pink roses, some ice cream and a big ol' bottle of Lagavulin, to burn the germs out of me from the inside, he said with a laugh.
Indeed. If that doesn't work I don't think anything would.
We shared a drink. Seriously. You could use this stuff to santize open wounds, nothing's going to survive in a glass.
I invited him to stay and watch a movie with me but he declined in case I really do have something deadly and promises me a rainy weekend movie if I feel up to it, that he'll check in tonight again, and that I should sleep, at least a little, if I can. I had another coughing fit and he put his arms around me so I could cough over his shoulder while he rubbed my back. When it was over he gave me another swig, this time straight from the bottle.
When I come back I hope that's empty and you're sleeping.
That's how I get in the half the trouble I find myself in.
He laughs, kissing my forehead. I'll be back late this evening. Share the bottle with your idiot husband and maybe he'll let me in to say a quick goodnight.
That's very generous of you.
I would be even more generous if he's interested. The ball is in his court, Neamhchiontach. It has been for months. He takes the risk and kisses me again, this time on the lips and then he is gone, taking the ice cream with him to put in the freezer for later.
Not three minutes after my door closes, it opens again. Dalton pokes his head in. You okay?
Yes. Want a drink?
No. I don't like Plague-avulin.
Oh my God, you just won the Portmanteau olympics. I'll buy you a fresh bottle tomorrow as your prize.
A week from tomorrow when you're allowed outside, you mean.
A week? Seriously?
Well, maybe if the weather is good Thursday someone will carry you out onto the lanai for some air. Yes, a week. Jesus, Fidget. Now get some sleep. He smiles kindly and closes the door again. I open the bottle and fill my mouth with whiskey, swishing it around my yucky teeth. God this stuff is good.