Page 33 of Sweeter Than Fiction

“Every time I try, it just comes right back up.”

“Have you been drinking fluids?”

She bundles herself up in the blankets. “Some. But it’s the same result.”

I hand her a bottle of Gatorade. “Drink.”

“You’re awfully bossy.”

“Well, that may be. But I want you to get feeling better.”

Reluctantly, she sits up and takes a few sips.

“You don’t have to stay,” she tells me. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I sit down in the armchair next to the couch. “You just relax. I’ll be right here.”

“What if you get sick?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

She leans forward and hands me the remote. “Here. Do you want to watch Gilmore Girls?”

“I don’t want to watch it without you.”

“Don, I’ve seen it all. Multiple times. Plus, I’m listening. Just resting my eyes.”

I’m barely five minutes into an episode before Abby is softly snoring. I know she’d probably be okay if I went home right now. But I just don’t feel right leaving her alone. Plus, I’ll take whatever time with her I can get even if it’s when she’s sick.

I watch the show but find myself watching over Abby more than the screen. Every once in a while, she wakes herself up with a coughing spell but then falls right back to sleep. I feel bad and wish I could make her feel better. Seeing her so weak breaks my heart.

Randomly, she sits up with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

But by the way she slaps her hand over her mouth, I already know the answer. She’s going to be sick.

I spot a small trash can she has in the corner of the room and sprint to grab it. I set it down in front of her as she leans over the couch to start heaving. The medicine she just took and the Gatorade she drank come right back up.

I hold her hair back to try to keep it clean.

Between heaves, she says, “Please don’t look at me. This is so gross.”

“Abby, it’s fine. I’ve seen worse. My niece pooped on me once.”

That actually manages to get a small laugh out of her.

When she finishes, I get up to toss the bag that lined the trash can and replace it with another. I’ve spent so much time here lately that I’m starting to learn where everything is.

When I return, Abby’s completely bundled under the blankets but is still shivering like crazy.

“Abs, when was the last time you checked your temperature?”

“I don’t know.” Her teeth chatter. “This morning sometime. It was 100.2.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I don’t think you just have a cold.”

“I’ll be alright.”

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