Over the past few nights I managed to get very sick and today I am not only lagging behind Caleb as he heads down the sidewalk towards our breakfast reservation but I suddenly have an exceedingly runny nose and need a tissue. I make a last ditch effort search of my raincoat pockets and find one, mercifully, just as Caleb turns to see where I am. I am stopped in the middle of the sidewalk folding a tissue around my nose. I can't even breathe. He looks irritated and comes back to me, putting his hand on my back to scoop me along faster now. Not an 'Are you alright?' or a 'Hey, let me wait for you'.
Instead he takes advantage once inside the restaurant, settling into old routines. Ordering what he wants and what he thinks I want, while I stare out the window and wipe my nose. Saying my name repeatedly while I pointedly ignore him until he begins with civility or at the very least, compassion.
What's the matter with you.
I shrug. I guess I have a cold. In the mirror I can see how red my eyes and nose are. I look like I've been crying for days. Luckily this is not a new look for me. He reaches over and pulls a long lock of hair away from my mouth where it is stuck to my lip.
Who gave you that.
I don't know. Lochlan maybe? Maybe Henry. I'll start asking for spit samples so you can have a definitive person to blame.
He softens slightly at my words, reaching out a hand to gauge the warmth of my forehead before raising a finger. The server leaps toward him and he asks to add chicken soup to our order. They haggle a little and finally lentil soup is agreed upon. And tea. A pot, if possible,
If I had known you were this ill I would have rescheduled.
If we didn't do it now we'd have to wait until April.
It won't be that long but maybe it will be better than you being out in the rain. I'll call ahead once our food arrives and see if we can't truncate this to an hour or two tops.
Thank you. He could have done this anyways. I hate lawyers. Well, most of them. He's alright, though he no longer practices so I don't think it even counts.
The soup, tea, juice and fruit arrives first and Caleb excuses himself to make his call from the mezzanine. I'm not even hungry suddenly, the heat swirling my vision, clouding it over completely. I throw my hands out to steady myself and catch the rim of a bowl, sending the most colorful bites of a pretty fruit bowl to the floor and some poor server tries to catch me as I slide off my chair somewhat gracefully, considering. It's so quiet as if this happens all the time and I bet they think I'm some coked-out sugar baby starting her weekend on a Tuesday and that pisses me off.
I just have a cold, I tell anyone who will listen, as they steady me back on the chair, picking up dishes, whisking things away again. Maybe they're afraid I'll start throwing things? I don't know what coked-out babies do, I haven't been one for years (STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY). Someone goes to get Caleb and he's back, right beside me, gathering our things in one arm and me in the other. He tells the manager to contact him for his details to cover cleaning and food costs and we're out in the cold, his arms steel and my legs rubber. Wow, this feels weird. I'm not coming back. I feel like I'm going to black out at any moment.
He puts me in his car, buckling the seat belt for me, putting my bag on my lap, and then putting our coats in the back seat. My shivering wakes me up a little more but I somehow can't ask him for the coats to warm myself up. I don't need to. Once he's in he blasts the heat at us until I am way too warm. Oh no.
Oh no.
Pull over!
He starts to tell me why he can't and how it's fine. I shake my head, lean forward and throw up on the floor of his beautiful Audi.
I'm sorry.
Neamhchiontach, it's okay. Let's get you home. He presses a button on his steering wheel and the sound of a ringing phone is the last thing I hear before Lochlan's voice pushes past the noise in my brain. I turn and swim towards it but everything is so fucking dark.
***
I wake up with ice on my forehead and fresh warm pajamas on. It's dark outside and I'm still wearing my pearls. My face has been washed and Lochlan is sitting on the edge of the bed holding my favorite mixing bowl and a glass of water. I take the water.
Wasn't sure which one you'd go for. He smiles. Glad it wasn't my truck. Caleb backhands his curls gently from just behind him. Doctor's on the way. He didn't believe me when I told him you spiked a fever and he asked me if I was used to treating you like a small child.
What did you tell him?
I reminded him we raised you. (He said we. Not I. We.)
I hear the door chimes and then a commotion on the stairs and then my dignity ends up in my favorite mixing bowl but not much else because I haven't eaten all day anyway. It's foam. Stomach-acid foam.
The doctor comes in, takes my temperature right away and says it is high and did they give me anything to bring it down. He's not talking to me. I'm not sure if I'm delirious or just unimportant. Caleb says I've been mostly out of it and I'm still doing more throwing up than breathing so it's not going to work anyway.
The doctor concedes this and gives them diet instructions (which they know) and tells them to continually check the fever. If it goes any higher to take me somewhere, I couldn't hear. Probably to the ER.
At this point I fall asleep as I'm tired and I don't care.
***
Now it's mid evening and the pearls are away and I'm down to one hundred and one degrees! Just naturally like that. I don't feel great. Lochlan brings toast and more water but I can't.
I can't.
Apparently it's the flu and you'll be better in a few days or a week.
Great.
***
The lawyers meetings are rescheduled for April. They were annual things, nothing too riveting but it would have been nice to have them over with before tax time instead of after. Caleb squeezes my hand.
Sounds like something I would say.
We'll figure it out.
Indeed.
Instead he takes advantage once inside the restaurant, settling into old routines. Ordering what he wants and what he thinks I want, while I stare out the window and wipe my nose. Saying my name repeatedly while I pointedly ignore him until he begins with civility or at the very least, compassion.
What's the matter with you.
I shrug. I guess I have a cold. In the mirror I can see how red my eyes and nose are. I look like I've been crying for days. Luckily this is not a new look for me. He reaches over and pulls a long lock of hair away from my mouth where it is stuck to my lip.
Who gave you that.
I don't know. Lochlan maybe? Maybe Henry. I'll start asking for spit samples so you can have a definitive person to blame.
He softens slightly at my words, reaching out a hand to gauge the warmth of my forehead before raising a finger. The server leaps toward him and he asks to add chicken soup to our order. They haggle a little and finally lentil soup is agreed upon. And tea. A pot, if possible,
If I had known you were this ill I would have rescheduled.
If we didn't do it now we'd have to wait until April.
It won't be that long but maybe it will be better than you being out in the rain. I'll call ahead once our food arrives and see if we can't truncate this to an hour or two tops.
Thank you. He could have done this anyways. I hate lawyers. Well, most of them. He's alright, though he no longer practices so I don't think it even counts.
The soup, tea, juice and fruit arrives first and Caleb excuses himself to make his call from the mezzanine. I'm not even hungry suddenly, the heat swirling my vision, clouding it over completely. I throw my hands out to steady myself and catch the rim of a bowl, sending the most colorful bites of a pretty fruit bowl to the floor and some poor server tries to catch me as I slide off my chair somewhat gracefully, considering. It's so quiet as if this happens all the time and I bet they think I'm some coked-out sugar baby starting her weekend on a Tuesday and that pisses me off.
I just have a cold, I tell anyone who will listen, as they steady me back on the chair, picking up dishes, whisking things away again. Maybe they're afraid I'll start throwing things? I don't know what coked-out babies do, I haven't been one for years (STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY). Someone goes to get Caleb and he's back, right beside me, gathering our things in one arm and me in the other. He tells the manager to contact him for his details to cover cleaning and food costs and we're out in the cold, his arms steel and my legs rubber. Wow, this feels weird. I'm not coming back. I feel like I'm going to black out at any moment.
He puts me in his car, buckling the seat belt for me, putting my bag on my lap, and then putting our coats in the back seat. My shivering wakes me up a little more but I somehow can't ask him for the coats to warm myself up. I don't need to. Once he's in he blasts the heat at us until I am way too warm. Oh no.
Oh no.
Pull over!
He starts to tell me why he can't and how it's fine. I shake my head, lean forward and throw up on the floor of his beautiful Audi.
I'm sorry.
Neamhchiontach, it's okay. Let's get you home. He presses a button on his steering wheel and the sound of a ringing phone is the last thing I hear before Lochlan's voice pushes past the noise in my brain. I turn and swim towards it but everything is so fucking dark.
***
I wake up with ice on my forehead and fresh warm pajamas on. It's dark outside and I'm still wearing my pearls. My face has been washed and Lochlan is sitting on the edge of the bed holding my favorite mixing bowl and a glass of water. I take the water.
Wasn't sure which one you'd go for. He smiles. Glad it wasn't my truck. Caleb backhands his curls gently from just behind him. Doctor's on the way. He didn't believe me when I told him you spiked a fever and he asked me if I was used to treating you like a small child.
What did you tell him?
I reminded him we raised you. (He said we. Not I. We.)
I hear the door chimes and then a commotion on the stairs and then my dignity ends up in my favorite mixing bowl but not much else because I haven't eaten all day anyway. It's foam. Stomach-acid foam.
The doctor comes in, takes my temperature right away and says it is high and did they give me anything to bring it down. He's not talking to me. I'm not sure if I'm delirious or just unimportant. Caleb says I've been mostly out of it and I'm still doing more throwing up than breathing so it's not going to work anyway.
The doctor concedes this and gives them diet instructions (which they know) and tells them to continually check the fever. If it goes any higher to take me somewhere, I couldn't hear. Probably to the ER.
At this point I fall asleep as I'm tired and I don't care.
***
Now it's mid evening and the pearls are away and I'm down to one hundred and one degrees! Just naturally like that. I don't feel great. Lochlan brings toast and more water but I can't.
I can't.
Apparently it's the flu and you'll be better in a few days or a week.
Great.
***
The lawyers meetings are rescheduled for April. They were annual things, nothing too riveting but it would have been nice to have them over with before tax time instead of after. Caleb squeezes my hand.
Sounds like something I would say.
We'll figure it out.
Indeed.