“Vic?” Kem shouted.
“I’m in the bedroom,” I responded, feeling my body ache from the minor movement of my mouth. He entered the room, turning on the track lighting that sat above the fireplace giving the room a soft glow that I could barely tolerate.
“Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.” He sat on the edge of the bed, putting his palm to my misted brow. “You’re burning up. When did you find the time to get sick? You seemed fine this morning.”
“I felt fine this morning,” I admitted. “I don’t know what happened. I drove home in good spirits, ate a sandwich, and took a nap. I guess I must have gotten sick from sleeping with that window open at grandma’s.”
“No going out for you tonight. I’ll make you some soup and take good care of you.” I felt immediately disappointed looking at him dressed in crisply pressed black pants, white-collared shirt, and black suit jacket. His arousing cologne made me moan in defeat, stuffing my face into the pillow.
“Stop your whining, I’m going to go out and get some ingredients to make soup after I stop by the hotel to pack clothes to stay here. I know we’re starting over again, but I’m not leaving you alone looking like a sick puppy.” He pecked me on my brow then walked to the doorway. “I’ll bring you some fever medicine and be back in a few, okay? Get some rest.”
It wasn’t long before I found myself dozing off again, waking to Kem standing over me with a glass of orange juice and two ibuprofen pills. After I swallowed the pills, I saw the tray with soup and crackers sitting at the foot of my bed. “Wow, how long have I been out?”
“A few hours. I took your temperature while you were asleep and it’s 100.1, so hopefully that medicine along with this soup will knock it down.” Kem grabbed the bowl with the spoon in his hand, ready to feed me, when I began to protest. “I really don’t feel like eating. Just let me get some rest so I can go into the office tomorrow.”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re going to eat this soup and work isn’t an option. Trust me, you won’t be better tomorrow, and letting you go in will just make you worse,” he pleaded with pain in his eyes, fighting to win the argument that I literally had no strength to battle. I reclined upward enough to not make a mess of myself when he fed me sips of the broth. Even though there was less than a cup of soup in the bowl, it took me ages to finish it, which showed the severity of my illness.
When I finished, I clutched the blankets around my skin as chills overtook my body. Kem returned the bowl and utensils to the kitchen. He came back into the room, dimmed the lights further, and crawled into the bed beside me. Like a magnet, I molded myself into his side. “Can you text Sandra and tell her that I won’t be in tomorrow?” Kem retrieved my cell phone off the side table, wrapped me in his arms, and entered the message.
“I told her that you would be out another day due to illness,” he stated. I drifted yet again into a deep slumber.
The next day was filled with fluctuating and descending temperatures, chills, night sweats, medicines, and soup. By nine o’clock that night I was feeling a little less like hell, so I pulled my achy body out of my makeshift death shrine and sought out my male nurse. The smell of bleach almost made me lose what bit of lunch that I was barely able to consume earlier that day when I saw Kem sterilizing the kitchen. He flitted to my side, wrapping his yellow-gloved hands around my waist. “Babygirl, what are you doing up? I told you to stay in bed.” The rumble of his concern-filled voice soothed my body like a tranquilizer.
“I’m so over staying in that bed. I was feeling a little better so I decided to come out of that room of sickness.” I couldn’t help but glance up at his now-ragged hair that was coming down into his line of sight. “You need a haircut,” I murmured.
“You must be ill because you’re starting to sound like my mother. Plus, I like the long hair.” His habit of pushing back his sandy locks out of his face was becoming beyond adorable to me as I realized I loved the length as well. He needs a trim though.
“I didn’t mean to cut it all off.” I paused to ruffle his hair with my fingers. “Just clean it up so it’s not in your face all the time.”
Kem perked his brow. “You’re right. It is a chore at times. I’ll take care of it, but don’t throw me off track. You need to rest today, or I’ll cart you off to the emergency room.”
“Fine, I’ll rest, but not in that room anymore, please, I beg of you.” If I can get him to agree to let me out of that awful room, then I know he’ll be more accepting of me taking at least a half day tomorrow. Time to activate my plan. Kem left my side, disappearing into the bedroom. He returned with the knitted quilt that I kept at the end of my bed. Kem wrapped me up in the speckled multi-colored blanket, guiding me to the yard with his tender touch at the small of my back.
While I moved to the koi pond, Kem obtained one of the lounging chairs for me to sit in, then brought one over for himself, pushing it flush to my seat. Even though it was late summer in Dallas, it wasn’t one of those unbearable sweltering days of the norm, so being tucked into a thick cotton blanket was not too irritating.
Relaxing to the sound of the gurgling water from the exotic fish swimming around the small pond, I started to mull over some of the questions that were circling my thoughts.
“Kem, do you ever wonder about our lives as adults versus when we were younger?” I faced him.
“What do you mean? My childhood was bland and yours was what I would only dream of,” he stated, watching the fish move around the plant life in the pond.
“Yes, I know you grew up being forever dissected under the microscope of perfection, and I had the normal scuffed-up knee, country fair, singing-in-the-choir childhood. The question now is, how did that affect our adulthood, essentially affecting our relationships with others and our marriage? I mean look at us.” I sat upright, gaining his attention. “We live a life of solitude. Yes it’s a very cushy life, but we do nothing with it. Homebodies is what they call us. Where are our friends? Do we have friends? Shouldn’t we have more in the social sector of life given we have one more year before jumping over the threshold of thirty?”
“I admit we have a very quiet home life. I’m not bothered by it, though.”
“But at the age of twenty-nine, do you love it? We’re about to be thirty, and have experienced college, career, marriage, and divorce. There were other factors as to why we fizzled out, one being our social lives. We put so much focus on each other that all of that pressure was a full balloon waiting to burst.”
Kem brushed his palm over my covered knee. “Where is all of this coming from?”
I found myself flustered trying to figure out the words to articulate the thoughts that even I had a difficult time deciphering. “I figure we’re starting off building a stronger foundation for our future, so why not go beyond the apparent problems in our relationship that shield our deep-seated issues? We’re at the age where we’re yearning for an outlet that cannot be found in only ourselves. If we do this the right way this time, we’ll be adding another year to our decade-long relationship scorecard, which is great. However, we can’t keep on with the same mundane routine of absorbing ourselves into our work and each other. We need excitement and new adventures.”
“I get that. I’m starting to feel the effects of isolation myself, so I understand what you’re saying. How do we achieve these things going forward? Is it really as easy as gaining friends or new surroundings?”
I furrowed my brow. “That’s the question of the century. I know being an only child with no true friends made me dependent on grandma being my friend and family. The problem with that is it bled over into my relationship. Our relationship. My dependence went from her to you, then to Sandra in a way, given that she is the only friend I have.”
Kem relaxed back onto the lounger. “To be honest, I don’t know what you have with Sandra but it’s definitely not friendship.” I swatted Kem’s arm. “What? I mean she has never cared for me, not to mention the sketchiness of her having an affair that res
ulted in another life. A baby that will never know his true father.”
“That’s true, but let’s not get our judgmental hats on regarding Sandra. Things happen and we must leave it at that,” I stated, defending my best friend.
“I know she’s your assistant and you care about her, but she did appear during a very vulnerable part of your life.” His statement took me aback.
“Are you saying that problems in my marriage literally pushed me into her arms? Kem, she is a truly good person, she’s just going through some stressful situations right now. While I was going through the pain of the divorce she was there keeping smiles on my face at all times, so I know she has goodness in her which will win over my loyalty in the long run. Plus, as you say, considering the time frame of the beginning of our friendship, I must take the blame in a lot of the jaded viewpoints she has about you.” I shrugged, then Kem slumped his shoulders in defeat.
“You know Nan had me promise to protect you, so when I see things not panning out right, I get worried. Sandra is one of those fishy subjects, but I trust your judgment, and I’ll leave it alone until more of a concern arrives.”
“I can say that now I’ll loosen the leash on Sandra and allow her to figure out her life as a supporter while I sort out my relationship with you.” I stretched myself, feeling lethargic but sensing the sun’s rays improving my condition.
“Since you’re full of answers with your feverish brain, what do you suggest I do to broaden myself outside of devoting myself to the love and care of my woman?”
Placing my fingers at my chin, I began to ponder the question. “Kem, my love.” I patted him on the chest to stress my point. “You should take a cooking class. You know, join a culinary school and take some classes.” The look in his eyes made me feel ridiculous but I was very sure of my words.
“A cooking college? Really? Your suggestion is a cooking class. I already know how to cook.” Kem began to laugh with an undertone of cockiness.
“Think about it. You’ll be around normal, everyday people who have the same interest as you. If you join a cooking club or wine club, it would be full of members from the upper echelon, but a cooking class is a different environment.” To lighten the mood of awkward confusion, I nudged Kem in his side. “Come on. Just give it a try. It will be something new and it won’t hurt to try.”
“Okay, I’ll do some research and try it out. If I spend the first session chopping onions, I’m out of there,” he joked.
“Deal.” I chuckled.
“Any other ideas in that head of yours?” He pulled me into his arms while I nuzzled his neck.
“No, I think that’s a good start. You know, baby steps.”
We sat outside for a few minutes then Kem drew a bath for me while he prepared another exciting dinner of chicken broth and toast. Even though exhausted, the hot waters of the bath increased my spirits, allowing me to argue my point about going to work after being absent for almost a full week. A half day on Friday would allow me to make sure the marketing trains were running on track without being distracted with other work duties. After downing a substantial quantity of pain medicines for my sore muscles, I curled under the covers, striving to wake early for work.
The dawning of the sun through the cracks of the blinds woke my fatigued body. Not having an adequate meal in two days had severely weakened me, but I had enough energy to make it through lunch at work, promising Kem to sleep in all weekend no matter what. I slid into a pair of crimson straight-leg jeans, white V-neck, and white sneakers. Contrary to my mood, I decided to wear my hair straight down my back with a black thin headband to pull my bangs out of my face. I found Kem in his favorite place in the house, sliding a small omelet and slice of toast on a plate for me.
“While you’re at work, I’m visiting my barber, and then I’ll meet you back here when you get home.” To my surprise, the taste of real food made my mouth water, hungering for the extra nutrients.
“Okay, cool. I’ll be back around noon, and I promise to take it easy. No drama, no stress.”
“Good,” he announced.
I found myself disappointed when I devoured every bit of my meal down to the last crumb of toast. I hugged Kem, not wanting to spread my flu to him, and headed off to work.
When I exited the elevator, the floor of cubicles had a slim array of workers, which was typical of a Friday. Sandra was attentively typing away on her computer when I decided to bypass our first conversation in days by going into my office to collect my thoughts beforehand. No drama, no stress. The sight of my inbox clean and my e-mail checked made me swallow down the pride that was eating away at my core. I returned to Sandra’s desk.
“Good morning,” I stated as an icebreaker.
She peered over her computer screen at me as if I had just appeared out of thin air. “Oh hey, Victoria. Good morning. You should have let me know you were coming in and I would’ve stopped to get you a coffee and muffin.” Those pregnancy mood swings of hers are starting to scare me.
“No it’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have it anyway since I’ve been battling a mild flu for the past day or so.” Sandra immediately held up the cross sign with her fingers, backing away from me.
“You know I’m in a fragile state and you show up at work all contagious and what not.” I totally failed to think about my germs spreading to her. The last thing I wanted to do was get her sick.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice was muffled from my hands. “I’ll barricade myself inside my office until I leave.”
Sandra slumped over her desk, dropping her head into the elbow crease of her arm. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry to worry you.” She lifted her head. “This pregnancy is really taking a toll on me and my health.”
Slowly settling myself in her visitor’s chair, my mouth remained covered when I asked, “What do you mean your health is suffering?”
“I wanted to tell you while you were in Houston, but I didn’t want you to worry and race back to Dallas on account of me. I was having heart palpitations over the weekend, so I ended up calling an ambulance. My blood pressure had skyrocketed to the point that the doctor wants me to remain on bed rest.” Her eyes began to redden and her face flushed.
“Bed rest? This is serious. What the hell are you doing in the office?”
“Working. You weren’t here and we had a lot of new fiscal-year projects commencing. I couldn’t leave you hanging like that.” I immediately became ashamed at all the conversations and negative thoughts I had over the past several days regarding Sandra. Here I was saying I was going to relax on our friendship and she is risking her health and life to be in this office so I could rest. I’m the worst possible friend in the world.
“No, I can see your wheels turning. Don’t you feel guilty when you know how I am about work. If I didn’t come in I’d be left sitting in a cold, empty house alone with my negative, idle mind.”
“I don’t understand. What did Carlos say?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t heard from Carlos since he left on that last shipment. Trust me, I tried calling him repeatedly, but after a few hours I realized I was causing myself more stress than it was worth.”
I shook my head and slid out of my seat. I found an empty box near the copier to take back to her desk. When Sandra saw me approach her side of the desk, she stood to back out of my way, presumably due to the contagion factor. Soon, I was filling the box with her personal items with her completely aloof to what was transpiring in front of her eyes. “Victoria!”
Continuing to pack, I stated, “You are, excuse my French, taking your ass home right now. I will have the appropriate paperwork sent to you for your OB to fill out for medical leave. He says bed rest, then you’re going on bed rest. Worshaw and Baines isn’t worth losing a life, and Carlos Santiago isn’t worth losing a life.” I slammed the last photo into the box and picked up the phone to ask for security escort to assist Mrs. Santiago to her vehicle. Tears began to drip silently down Sandra’s cheeks
as she stood watching my labored breaths and heaving chest. I was damn mad.
Not meaning to frighten her, but wanting to get my point across, I turned to her, fuming. Sandra needed a strong tone to help her understand. “Listen to your doctor all the time. Not only does it mean life or death for the baby but it also means life or death for you. I know you’ve gone through a lot over the past week or two, honey, but in the end it will all work itself out and I can promise you that.” The security man gathered her box and purse, and I finished with, “No matter how much you and I differ, know that I love you dearly. Everything will be okay and I’ll be there for you. Now go home and get some well-needed rest.”
She began to chuckle. “I would hug you, but you look like the dawning of the zombie apocalypse.” My mouth dropped open and I laughed.
“I’ll call you later,” I said, waving good-bye to her.
Once she left, I entered my office and turned on the radio to easy listening. My shoeless feet were perched up on my desk while I zoned out until it was time to leave for the day.
Chapter Eight
Before I arrived home I stopped at the drugstore to pick up more pain medicines and other supplies. Kem was still out when I entered the house, exhausted out of my mind. Not stopping to think, I dragged myself into my bedroom and tossed the bag with my medicines on the chair near the fireplace. I just wanted to slither into the coziness of my bed, but a turkey sandwich and bottle of orange juice were blocking my way to slumber freedom. A grin crossed my bland face when I fished out the note hiding underneath my lunch. I placed the sandwich and juice on the side table and pulled the comforter back, climbing into its hold like a child to a mother. The smell of his cologne simmered my blood, giving way to the chills that only being in love could provide. I opened the note to see Kem detailing that I should rest and eat my lunch until he returns home. My heart warmed when I saw his salutation, “Love always, Kem.”
Wronged Desires Page 10