by Leddy Harper
“It makes no sense, though. I never even told him I didn’t feel well. We had dinner, started to clean the kitchen, and when I complained about being tired, he told me to go to bed. I don’t recall at all saying I felt sick or that I was coming down with something. I don’t even think I was running a fever. I only had a headache when I went to lie down.”
“You can deny it all you want, Jelly, but you two will end up together. I can feel it.” For the first time all morning, I noticed a genuine smile spread across Christine’s perfectly painted pink lips. “I knew your brother was the one for me when he stopped by my apartment early one morning before a test. His class started at eight and mine didn’t start until almost nine, so he came knocking on my door at seven fifteen with flowers and a cup of coffee fixed just the way I like it.”
“Why did he do that?” I was intrigued, having never heard this story before.
“No one else noticed, but I was terrified of the test I had that day. I didn’t feel prepared enough because I hadn’t had much time to study. But I’d never told anyone because it was my fault. I chose to do other things than study, so I wasn’t about to complain. Needless to say, Matty knew. He recognized how stressed I was and somehow knew it was about the test. So he came over early in the morning to tell me how confident he was that I’d pass it.”
“Well? Did you?”
“With flying colors. But that’s not the moral of the story. What I was trying to say is he knew me well enough to pick up on things others overlooked. So if you didn’t mention to Holden last night that you weren’t feeling good, that means he saw it. He picked up on it.”
I wrapped my arms around my shins, pulling my legs tighter to my body while curling into the awful waiting room chair, and closed my eyes. I was convinced they put these seats in clinics to will people to get better. The longer you had to sit in these, the higher the probability was that you’d take the chance with your cough, hoping it didn’t turn out to be life threatening, because you just couldn’t take it anymore. There’d probably be less deaths if they spent a few extra dollars on real chairs that weren’t made of hard plastic to place in waiting rooms.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “That means we know each other well. It doesn’t mean we’ll end up together. Considering we’ve been in each other’s lives for eighteen years, I would hope that he could pick up on a few things others didn’t.”
“Say what you want, but you won’t change my mind.”
Luckily, she dropped the conversation, and we waited in silence until someone called my name—which felt like a hundred years later. Christine walked back with me, and maybe it was my fever causing me to hallucinate, but she seemed lighter, less anxious about where we were. Either that or realizing she wasn’t the patient and wouldn’t be the one getting horrible news settled her nerves some. Whatever it was, she sat in the room and entertained me while we waited for the doctor to come in. Which, by the way, only lasted approximately ninety seconds. A hundred years in the waiting room to see an old man in a white coat for less than a hundred seconds. It took the nurse longer than that to scrape my throat.
Nevertheless, at least I no longer had to sit in the waiting room.
I now had a pint-sized bed lined with crinkly paper.
I wasn’t sure which was better.
“She’s been asleep since we got back,” Christine whispered, obviously having no clue that I had woken up. I blinked my eyes until I could focus on something and noticed her in the kitchen with Holden. He hadn’t changed out of his work clothes, so I assumed he’d just gotten home.
He had his back to me, but that didn’t stop his husky voice from traveling into the living room where I lay curled up on the couch. “At least the antibiotics should start to kick in by tomorrow. Don’t those usually take twenty-four hours to kill the fever and dramatically lessen the symptoms? She’ll start to feel better tomorrow, right?”
“I hate to say this, Holden, but I doubt she’ll feel better for days. The antibiotics will help with the strep, but it won’t touch the flu. I would love to stay and help out with her, but I can’t. She’ll probably sleep a ton for the next several days, but she needs to make sure she’s staying hydrated. That fever is no joke.”
There was a long beat of silence before he spoke again. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. I want you to know I never would’ve asked you for help today if I had another option. I hope you know that and how much I appreciate it. Thank you so much for this.”
Holden turned around to walk Christine to the door and noticed I was awake. I managed to offer her a wave, although she might not have recognized it as that, and then smiled weakly in response when she wished me well. She asked Holden to call her and let them know how I was doing and if we needed anything else, and then left.
After closing the door behind her, he came to kneel next to the couch, close to me. “How are you feeling?” he asked with his palm on my forehead. I wanted to slap it away and make fun of him for his intense show of concern, but I didn’t have the energy. Not to mention, his reaction warmed my heart in ways I refused to acknowledge.
Instead, I groaned and closed my eyes.
“I stopped by the store on my way home and picked up some drinks. They’re in the fridge. I’m sure they’ll feel better on your throat once they cool down, but I can pour some over ice in the meantime.”
I hummed at the thought of something icy on my throat. I’d had water, but no matter how cold it was, it was horrible and tasted awful. I was convinced it was poison and refused to drink much. Of course, I didn’t tell Christine that. She had taken my prescription to the pharmacy and dropped it off so Holden could pick it up on the way home, and I knew if I complained about the taste of the water, she’d find a way to get me something else to drink. And she’d already done enough.
A crushing weight settled over me when I reminded myself once again about her anxiety while we waited to be seen. I knew she wasn’t obligated to tell me, neither was my brother, and she even admitted that it had happened more times than anyone knew of. But that didn’t stop my heart from breaking at the thought of their silent pain and secret battle.
The quiet in the room became almost unbearable, forcing me to open my eyes just to make sure he was still there. I wasn’t sure if I’d fallen asleep or just gotten lost in my dark thoughts, but when I found him on the floor in front of me, tapping away on his phone, I knew he hadn’t left me. “You didn’t have to do all this, Holden. But thank you. It means a lot to me.”
“Do what?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Everything. Calling to check on me, having Christine come over and then take me to the one place she hates more than anything. Getting me something to drink and picking up my medicine. Being here. Everything, Holden. Thank you for everything.”
Rather than respond, he ran his fingertips along my forehead, down my cheek, and paused on my chin. It was so close to my bottom lip I wanted to kiss it, but then he pulled it away and stood. And after regarding me without a sound for a long moment, he walked off. I had to close my eyes and curl into myself even more beneath the heavy blanket just to ward off the chill caused by his absence.
I didn’t remember closing my eyes or falling back to sleep. But apparently, I did, because the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and found Holden kneeling next to the couch. However, this time, he no longer had on work clothes, and a piping-hot bowl of chicken noodle soup sat on the coffee table in front of me. At first, I assumed he’d ordered it or had someone bring it over, because there was no way I could’ve slept through someone cooking a few feet away. But when I watched him through the walkway into the kitchen, I noticed the big pot on the stove and realized he’d cooked for me. Which meant he had to buy the ingredients at the store while he was there.
If I’d had enough energy, I would’ve swooned.
Holden brought his bowl to the living room and sat next to me on the couch. He grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, and started flipping through the
channels, as if this were any other night. I expected him to settle on one of the shows he liked to watch, but when he stopped on a reality show about wedding planners, I knew it was for me. He had no interest in a show like this, but he knew my dream was to plan events, and a wedding was considered an event.
“If you keep spoiling me like this, I may never leave,” I croaked out.
He held his bowl close to his face and blew on it while cutting his gaze toward me. “You’re sick, Janelle. Everyone deserves to be spoiled when they don’t feel well.”
This fever needed to go away, and fast. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say, but when he didn’t make any comment about me staying, I felt like an idiot. I grabbed my bowl off the table and held it in my lap on a pillow, unable to look in his direction. It wasn’t his fault I felt let down. It wasn’t even like I had meant to fish for anything. But in the throes of my illness and the seeds Christine had planted in my head, I guess I’d hoped this meant more than him worrying about the health of a friend.
“You don’t have to sit in here with me if you don’t want to.”
He whipped his head to the side so fast it was nothing but a blur in my peripheral vision and it made me glance up at him. His narrowed gaze silenced my argument long enough for him to respond. “Why would I want to eat at the table all by myself? And leave you in here alone?”
Without moving my head, only my eyes, I studied the kitchen table. It sat right behind the recliner—maybe ten feet away at best. Either way, not far. “It’s right there,” I muttered, my words comprised of confusion. “It’s not like we wouldn’t be able to talk or see each other. There’s not even a wall separating it, so I wouldn’t be alone.”
With his eyes on the show ahead of him, he brought his spoon to his lips, blew on the broth, and then swallowed it. “It’s too far away. Plus, you’d have to raise your voice to talk to me, and that’d make me feel like crap.” He turned to look at me and hesitated for a few blinks before saying, “If you don’t want me in here, just tell me. I can sit at the table. It won’t hurt my feelings. I know some people prefer to be alone when they’re sick.”
“That’s not it at all. I just don’t want you to get sick.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” And just like that, he dismissed my concerns.
I blew on my soup—at least, that’s what I thought it was…until I tasted it. Then I realized it was heaven in a bowl. It soothed my throat and warmed me up all at once, and I never wanted to stop eating it. Being upright didn’t help my headache, and my joints protested with every move I made, but that didn’t stop me from sitting there, hunched over my bowl in my lap, bringing spoonful after spoonful to my mouth. I slurped as much of it down as I could, and thought about how wonderful it would’ve been to have a long, bendable, wide straw so I could eat-slash-drink the broth while lying down.
That was something that definitely needed to be invented.
I managed to finish half the bowl of soup and drink almost half a bottle of Gatorade before lying back down and falling asleep. At some point, not sure when because I didn’t bother to check the time, he picked me up and carried me to bed.
It was the most comfortable bed I’d ever been in, and I thought to myself how much better a mattress felt when you’re sick. The sheets were softer and the comforter thicker, warmer. In fact, it was so warm, I finally stopped shivering. The pillow molded to my head and absorbed the weight evenly, which left me feeling as thought I were in a cocoon.
And it made me sleep so peacefully, I didn’t wake up once.
14
Holden
“Take messages, and if they need to be addressed today, please email them to me. I’ll check in periodically and do what I can from home.” When my alarm went off this morning, I checked Janelle’s forehead—not that I needed to, considering her body radiated enough heat to suffice a small town in Maine for the winter. There was no way I could’ve left her alone in that condition. It didn’t matter if she ended up sleeping all day, she didn’t need to be by herself. So I sent Matt a text and called Ronnie with instructions. “Yes, just tell them my wife has the flu, so I’m at home taking care of her. She needs me. You know how to get ahold of me if you need to.”
I made sure to keep my voice as low as possible to keep from waking her while I concluded my phone call outside my bedroom door. I had no idea why I brought her to my bed last night, and then crawled beneath the covers with her, but I told myself it was to be close in case she needed me.
Apparently, I must’ve also convinced myself that she was dying. Because I wasn’t sure what all I could do for someone with the flu, or what she could’ve possibly needed other than a drink. But that didn’t matter, because in the event she needed something, I was there. Right next to her.
All. Night. Long.
God, I seriously needed help if I anticipated making it to the end of our agreement.
When I walked back into my room, the early morning sunlight drifted in through the window across from the bed and painted the walls in a warm glow. It also made Janelle appear to be an angel in my bed…who was no longer peacefully asleep, but lying there, staring at me with intense eyes.
“Sorry, I was trying to be quiet. I thought leaving the room and closing the door would’ve helped. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” I crawled beneath the blankets and crossed my arms behind my head. I more than likely wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, but that didn’t keep me out of bed.
She stared at me, and I stared back, neither one of us making a move—physical or verbal. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “You didn’t wake me up. At least, I don’t think you did.”
“Do you need anything? Something to eat…drink? Anything?”
“No.” Her voice was groggy, but it didn’t seem to stop her from talking. “I’m just freezing. I think that’s what woke me up. I was nice and warm all night, and now I can’t stop shaking.”
I pulled the covers to her neck and then tucked them around her body. Without delay, she curled into my side and rested her head on my shoulder, so I wrapped my arm around her and held her tighter. And as if that still wasn’t close enough for her, she slipped her hand beneath my white T-shirt and settled her palm against the middle of my chest.
“You know, you’re like a furnace when you sleep,” I mumbled into her hair.
“I’m also running a fever.”
When I laughed under my breath, it jostled her body, so I pulled her even closer into my side, as if it would protect her more. “Well, there’s that, too. I would’ve taken my shirt off but I worried about how you’d react if you woke up and noticed me next to you half-naked.”
“You’re warm, so I doubt I would’ve reacted any other way than grateful for your body heat.”
Without saying anything else, I eased her off me and sat up to pull my shirt over my head. After tossing it to the floor, I reclined against my pillow again and then lifted my arm, inviting her to reclaim her position by my side. Once she got comfortable with her head on my shoulder, cheek against my pec, and arm draped along my chest, I wrapped my arm around her again.
“You called me your wife,” she whispered while her fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the small patch of hair in the middle of my chest. “A minute ago, when you were on the phone, you called me your wife.”
“Oh, yeah. I had called the office to let them know I wouldn’t be in today. It’s just easier than explaining who you are, and if I called you my roommate, it wouldn’t have the same effect.”
“But what about Matt? What if he hears you say that?”
I grinned to myself and stared at the ceiling. “He’s the one who started it. A couple weeks ago, Ronnie had suggested we all go out for a drink after work, and I said I couldn’t. Matt’s the one who said I had to get home to my wife, and it’s been an ongoing joke since then.”
Her body seemed to stiffen with my explanation. I only hoped I hadn’t made her uncomfortable—either by calling her my wife t
o someone else, or for telling her how her brother had been the one to start it. But for some reason, talking to someone else and calling her my wife did something to me, something I couldn’t explain. My chest felt bigger and my heartbeats felt stronger.
Although, admitting that felt like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute—absolutely frightening. Which boggled my mind considering I wasn’t much of a fearful person. Once I made up my mind I wanted something, I went after it. For all things except Janelle. And the only reason to explain that was our history and connection to one another. We had been close friends once, and I believed we had made it back to that place in each other’s lives.
The last time our friendship had been taken to another level, we spent five years not talking. I wasn’t willing to chance that again. Not to mention, if things between us didn’t work out, it would only make everything harder. Losing someone you care about because of a breakup is always difficult, no matter what the reason. But losing an entire family and possibly a business partner and best friend is far worse. It’s unfathomable. And a risk I adamantly refused to take.
Breaking me from my thoughts, she sighed and stilled her hand. “I can’t believe I’ve slept in the same bed with you twice, yet can’t remember either time. Not to mention, you’re starting to give me a complex. I’ve woken up both times alone.”
“If it makes you feel any better, there was nothing about last night worth remembering.”
Her fingers began to move across my skin again, but this time, it wasn’t mindlessly. I could sense her hesitation by the way she circled them in the same spot, as if mentally preparing herself to say something. Finally, I gave in, unable to handle her inner torture any longer.