by K. L. Savage
Grabbing a blanket off the shelf in the closet, I fluff it over her and crawl into bed, and wrap my arm around her waist.
Yeah, I don’t have it in me to leave, not when she needs me most.
I’ll never say I’m scared, but I know being sick means she can get worse, and if that happens, there will be no saving me from the downward spiral.
I am, after all, attempting to find light in my dark, unforgiving hole.
“She’s got the flu.”
“Okay, well, take it from her. Isn’t that what you doctors do?”
“Tongue, it isn’t as simple as that. I can’t just take a virus from her body. It has to work itself out of her system. She has to be sick and feel like crap.”
“Well, what good are you?” Tongue huffs, and the familiar creak of the bedroom door sounds. I pry my eyes open, forcing the lashes through the gunk that’s built in my lash line. Well, Doc is right on one thing. I do feel like crap.
“Since you can’t take it from her, you can go,” Tongue says matter-of-factly.
“Tongue, buddy,” Doc places his hand on Tongue’s shoulder before he steps out of the room. “It isn’t a big deal. She’s young, she’s healthy, especially after what happened with your brother in December—”
“—He is not my brother. Don’t you ever call him that again. Do you understand me?” Tongue shrugs out of Doc’s hold and pushes him out the door. “He is nothing to me. He is lucky he is still alive, but time might change that.”
Doc holds his hands in the air, showing defeat. “I know that, but brother, I’m worried about you. You’ve been on edge since Mary got taken outside of Ruby’s Rarities, and I understand because it’s so close to the bookstore. You’re worried about Daphne’s every step, but what about you? When are you going to give yourself a break? When will you see that Daphne’s flu is random? People get sick and people get better. She isn’t dying. Nothing is going to happen to her.”
“Nothing?” Tongue sneers. “She’s sick. Something has already happened to her. The flu kills people.”
I sniffle, but they don’t hear me as I watch them have their little pow-wow.
“Tongue, the chances of that happening to a young, healthy woman is slim. Is it impossible? No, but slim. She has a mild case with a low-grade fever. She will be better in no time. She probably got it from the bookstore, with how many contractors are in and out stirring up the dust in there.” Doc realizes his mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth.
“They did this to her? I’m going to fucking kill them. I’ll do the renovations myself.”
“No one did anything to anybody. Tongue, things just happen sometimes. You’re going to have to learn how to accept that. You can’t stop the world from touching her in some way, brother,” Doc says sweetly, keeping his tone soft as he tries to calm Tongue down.
“The world has touched her enough. It’s my job,” he hits his chest with his fist, “It’s my job to keep her safe from the world.”
“Sometimes, you can’t stop everything. Plenty of fluids and sleep, that’s all that will help.” Doc opens up his bag and digs through it. “Ah, here it is.” He shows Tongue an orange bottle and shakes it, causing the pills to clank around. “Sleep, Tongue. I know you haven’t. The circles around your eyes tell me you need rest. Don’t make me tell Reaper to force you to go to sleep, okay? Just do it and stop worrying so much. Things are good here at the club. Everyone is safe. It’s time you start taking care of yourself. Feel better, Daphne.”
Oh, he must have seen me wake up. “Thank you, Doc.” I sound so stuffy and my eyes are already getting heavy again. Tongue stares down at the bottle in his palm and closes the door, blocking out the outside world. “Tongue, he’s right.”
“I just want you to be safe.”
I cough into my fist and he rushes to my side, placing his palm on my forehead again. “You feel like you’re on fire. I don’t like this. I can’t do anything. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do,” he says in desperation.
My comet, he seems so lost when things are beyond his control.
“Take one of those pills and sleep.”
“But there is so much to do. I need to start on the swamp for Happy and I need to check on the bookstore. I need to—”
“Sleep. That is what I want, Tongue. Please, stop worrying about everything so much and just be.”
“Just be,” he mumbles and then exhales a haunted breath. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“I know, but please, sleep. I know you get maybe two hours a night. The more you rest, the more you will see that I’m okay. It’s a silly cold.”
“Flu. It’s worse than a cold.”
“Take the damn pill,” I snap at him, which is then followed by a nasty sneeze. “Gross.” My nose is red and raw from blowing it so much. I take another tissue and wipe my face. He must think I’m disgusting.
“I hate that you feel so bad. I want to fix it and take it away.” Tongue lies down next to me and wraps an arm around me, tugging me to his chest. My cheek presses against his chest, right between each pec and his heart beats against my ear.
“I know,” I yawn, then pat his stomach as my eyes start to droop. “Take the pill, for me.”
An unhappy sound escapes him. “Fine,” he grumbles, popping the lid off and shaking a pill from the bottle. “I’m only doing this once and that’s it.”
No he isn’t, because I know if I ask him again, he will do it. “I know, Comet. I know.” I wipe my nose on his shirt and he starts to laugh after he takes a drink of water.
I sniffle.
“Did you just wipe your nose on my shirt?” he asks, sounding amused for the first time since I’ve been awake.
I shake my head. “No?” I make sure to sound unsure and his stomach starts to shake. I lift up on my elbows and peer up at him to see his hands over his face as he laughs.
A full blown, deep, raspy laugh. It’s like every chuckle gets rid of a bit of rust as he learns to embrace laughter.
Even sick and possibly seeing double, I take his hands from his face and see an actual smile. It’s so big, his eyes crinkle and his cheeks are plump and red. I can see his teeth. The front rows are straight and white, equally the same size. He got gifted in the teeth department. I climb onto his body until I’m straddling his chest and hypnotized by his face.
And what’s even better is I’m getting to see two of him, since the flu is getting the best of me. I grab my phone from under the pillow, swipe the camera up, and take a picture of the rare moment before he can protest.
“How is me wiping my nose on your shirt so funny?” I start to lie down again when my head starts to swim. I’m getting lightheaded. I collapse to his side and stare at the picture on my phone for a minute.
“Because it’s disgusting and yet, I don’t care. I want you to do it again because I like that we are comfortable enough with one another that we can do things like that.” As quickly as his smile is there, it’s gone, and he is yawning. “I’m already getting sleepy,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. “I’m sorry I’ve been worried, but I won’t be sorry for trying to keep you safe. I’ll never apologize for that.”
“I know and I love you more for it,” I say. “You’re unlike any man I’ve ever known, and I’ll never forget how you make me feel, and if I do you’ll have to make sure you remind me.”
I wait for him to say something, to say anything, and a pit starts to form in my stomach when he doesn’t say anything back. Tongue is surly and grumpy most days. Deep inside, down burrowed under my heart, I’m afraid he’ll get tired of me and that anger will win. So I need him to answer me because it reassures that he loves me.
“Tongue?” I sniffle again and groan when I get a hot flash, getting dizzier by the second when I try to look up at him.
He’s already asleep.
And now I feel guilty for thinking he might be getting tired of me.
I cuddle up as close as I can and pull the blanket over us t
o make sure he stays warm. He might be able to fool himself into thinking he is indestructible, but he can’t fool everyone else. There might be no rest for the wicked, but there is rest for the dead, and if he keeps going like this, I’m afraid I’ll lose him before I get the chance to have the experience we deserve together.
Living is for the wicked, sleep is for the living, and everything in between deserves a gallon of Redbull.
That is… until you need sleep so you can survive the next brutal round the world has to offer.
I close my eyes, trying to get myself to fall back asleep and debate if I want to take one of those pills that Tongue just took. My eyes feel so swollen, they could glue themselves shut, but my mind is racing, thinking about the dream I had the other night.
When dreams and reality clash, how does someone decipher the difference between the two? If it came down to having to choose, how will I pick the right one? It scares me because I know my psychosis is getting worse.
My dreams chain me down and life isn’t strong enough to break the shackles. I don’t know how to win, but there are only two ways this is going to end for me: insanity or death.
Or maybe one will have to do with the other.
A soft knock on the door grabs my attention and the hinges squeak as it opens. Sarah pokes her head in and smiles. She’s about to say something when her gaze falls to Tongue, who is fast asleep and snoring every few seconds.
She chuckles from the sound, and I have the urge to defend him. I know their relationship has been less than stellar lately, but I won’t allow her to laugh at him.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she whispers, inviting herself in. Her hand is on her belly, something I’ve noticed every pregnant woman does. Her stomach isn’t as big as Joanne’s, but it’s bigger than Mary’s since Mary is hitting twelve weeks, I think. “Doc said you had the flu, I was wondering if you wanted anything. Tea? Soup? I’ll be happy to bring it in for you.”
Well, now that she is being nice, my defenses fall a bit.
“Actually, tea sounds great.” I rub my dry, aching throat at the thought of sipping tea with honey in it.
She turns to leave, grabbing the knob of the door to close it on her way out when she stops in the middle of the doorway. “Is Tongue okay? I know he’s been restless.”
“He’ll be fine. If there is Church, can you tell Reaper Tongue is finally getting some sleep?”
She nods and a piece of her blonde hair falls from her ponytail. “Yeah, of course. Reaper’s been worried too. I’ll pass the message along.”
“Thank you,” I say, turning to my side and pressing against Tongue’s body. He’s warm and hard, strong in all the right places which has me feeling safe.
“Daphne, I want to let you know, just because Tongue and I are still figuring things out, doesn’t mean I don’t consider you my friend.”
“Sarah, I’m on his side. I’m always on his side. And if his relationship is rocky with you, then it’s rocky with me. I do my best to tell him to talk to you, but you know how he is. Even if I want to be best friends with you, I can’t. Tongue is first. I won’t betray him because you offered to bring me tea. Sorry,” I wince, reaching for another tissue to blow my nose, “I sound so bitchy and my patience is thin since I’m sick, but my words are true. Just like you’d stick to Reaper, I’m going to stick to Tongue. I hope one day the dynamic between everyone changes, and I appreciate your offer for tea, but I don’t want you to get sick, so I’ll get up and get it.”
“Nonsense.” She blinks steadily at the ceiling and her eyes are glassy. “I’ll have Doc bring it to you.”
Damn, I’ve made a pregnant lady cry. I’m an asshole. I don’t like that. I sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest, and lean against the headboard. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” I press a palm against my forehead when it starts to build with pressure, threatening to explode from my sinuses being clogged. “I don’t mean to hurt you. Tongue is my best friend, lover, soulmate, so he comes first.”
“No, I get it. I understand. There’s no need to explain yourself. I’ll make that tea for you now.” She closes the door behind her, but not before I hear a hiccup from her crying.
“I’m terrible,” I say to myself.
With a regretful sigh and the wheels turning in my head to form another apology, I swing my legs over the bed. I’m not going to fall asleep any time soon, especially with how bad I feel about hurting Sarah’s feelings. I know our relationship has no bearing on her and Tongue, but I can’t form a close bond with her when their relationship is hanging by a thread. It isn’t fair to him, for me to get close to Sarah. Tongue misses her. It would be like rubbing salt in a large bleeding wound.
I stand, giving myself a minute before walking, when my head spins again. When the world stops spinning, I head toward the bathroom and plug the tub with the stopper. When I inhale, there’s a rattle in my chest followed by a quick cough. Flipping the nozzle, hot water starts to fill the tub and I open the cabinet to grab the lavender bath salts.
“Holy Moly.” I stare at the empty package and ball it up, then throw it in the wastebin. I didn’t mean to pour the entire packet in the tub. It just kind of happened.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Three little knocks tell me someone is at the bedroom door. Mumbling incoherent words to myself that I can’t even understand, I take a look at myself in the mirror and gasp, horrified at what I’m seeing. “Oh my god, how can he love me when I look like this?” My hair is a rat’s nest, completely tangled on one side, and sticking to my scalp.
Probably from sweat…
Another reason why I need to bathe.
My face is pale, black circles sag under my eyes, and the tip of my nose is red. Don’t get me started on the constant wetness dripping from my nostrils. I look and feel disgusting.
But I don’t have the energy to care about how I look for someone that isn’t Tongue right now. I meander to the bedroom door, open it, then lean my head against the cool wood.
Oh, that’s nice.
Doc’s face comes to view. He gives me a sad, sympathetic filled smile as he hands me a big mug of tea. On the side it says, ‘Property of Tongue.’ All the ol’ ladies have their own mug. Mine is red with black lettering and there is a small black heart under Tongue’s name. It’s my favorite. “Hey, Daphne,” Doc greets, then sees Tongue asleep on the bed. “Wow, he took my advice.”
“Only because I asked him to.”
“You look… better.”
“Liar,” I call him out and take the mug from his hands. The heat warms my cold hands. “Thank you, for this. After I take a bath, I think I might take one of those pills too and sleep. I tried, but I’m so congested. How is it possible to have a runny and stuffy nose at the same time? What sense does that make?”
“Sickness never does. If you need anything, let me know, okay? You look like you might need an IV bag soon if you don’t start getting color to your face.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Nothing can keep me down.” I take a sip of the hot tea and moan when the honey flavored liquid heats my sore raw throat. “I’m going to take a bath. I’ll see everyone later.”
“Later, Daphne,” Doc says as he shuts the door.
I keep the mug tightly wrapped in my hands and inhale the steam billowing from the top. For a second, I’m actually able to breathe. I scoot my feet across the floor, not having enough strength to walk normally, and step in the bathroom.
The white ceramic tub is almost full, so I hurry to turn it off so it doesn’t overflow. I’m already tired from walking so much. I reach across the tub and set the tea in the inner corner so I can sip on it when I’m soaking. I undress, sliding off Tongue’s shirt and sweatpants, then step into the water and sit down.
The water splashes against the sides, almost rocking out of the tub and onto the floor. My aching body is appreciative for the heat engulfing me and the steam filling my lungs. My skin turns light pink from the temperature and the congestion in my chest lightens.
My butt slides across the bottom of the tub as I sink lower. My chin hits the surface of the water and I tilt my head back, shutting my eyes as the lavender scent of the bath salts seep into my lungs.
“Daphne!” Tongue suddenly screams for me, the urgency and fear startling. This time, water does hit the floor. “Daphne,” he cries out for me again. The pain in his voice has me hurrying out of the tub, dripping water everywhere, and rushing to the bedroom.
He isn’t awake.
“Daphne,” he twists in the sheets, the tendons in his neck tensed, and his knuckles are white as he grips the comforter.
Soaking wet, I jump on the bed, bounce, and place my hand on his chest. “I’m here, Wayne. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Daphne,” he mutters my name again, his hand grabbing onto mine, pressing it harder against his sternum. His heart is running wild, bumping against his breastbone with terror and adrenaline. Sweat beads across his brows and his face pinches as if he is in pain.
“I’m here, Comet.” I cup his face next, dripping water all over him and the blanket. “Wake up, Wayne. Wake up. I’m right here.” A coughing fits hits me, and I turn my head over my shoulder, so I don’t spew spit all over him. “I’m right here.”
“I don’t want to. Uncle—” he screams at the top of his lungs. A tear drips from the corner of his eye, and I know the door is about to burst open, so I crawl under the covers to hide my naked body. I take ahold of Tongue’s shoulders and shake him, but he won’t wake up.
That pill is keeping him in a nightmare.
“Please, wake up.” I begin to cry, because I hate seeing him relive something he has already put behind him.
“It hurts. Please, don’t Justine. I can’t take anymore.” His mouth opens on a silent shout, as if his voice is being held captive. The door flings open, smashing against the wall. Reaper is there, with Doc just a step behind him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“It must be the sleeping pill. Side effects are different for everyone. He must have night terrors. You can’t wake him up. You have to let him sleep or he could wake up violent,” Doc says, sorrow lilting his voice as he squeezes by and checks Tongue’s pulse.