The Devil decided to take his due while I was down for the count. I felt awful all week and so Caleb took it upon himself to fix that, and I was installed in his bed, air conditioning on full blast, blankets piled high. I had drugged sleep for most of my week, waking to eat Thai food and drink mimosas (which don't go together, unless you're sick, frankly) and text with Lochlan. Caleb sent for the doctor who brought vitamin shots and an iv of fluids for a couple of hours, and then I slept some more. In the evenings we watched every Texas Chainsaw Massacre film we could conjure from streaming sites and then I dreamt sporadically. No nightmares. Just Lochlan in my head.
When I was returned yesterday, still not feeling super-great but not willing to spend any more time away, Lochlan was happy to see me, though you'd never know it, as he was silent right up until I pointed out that I had had my fill of Leatherface and he started laughing and did not stop for an inappropriate amount of time. I thought it was relief at first.
I figured that would happen eventually. I like the new nickname.
And then I realized I hadn't told him what movies we watched.