Page 84 of You're So Vine
Doc knows us too well.
“You need a proper period of rest and recuperation, with a stable routine, emotional support, good nutrition, no alcohol.”
Yikes.
“And if it’s burnout, you should come right in a month or so. If there’s no improvement in that time, and if no othersymptoms arise, then we’ll assume it’s chronic fatigue.”
“So—a month?”
Shelby gasps again and claps her hands to her face. Cam and Nate go pale. I should have put the call on speaker.
“That doesn’t mean I only have a month to live,” I tell them. “I’m not dying.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Nate breathes out.
Shelby keeps her hands over her face. Cam closes his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling.
“I’d like you to see a nutritionist,” Doc rolls on, oblivious to the three heart attacks he’s inadvertently caused. “And it might be a good idea to get one of those doodads that monitors your sleep, pulse, and blood pressure.”
A doodad. Right.
“Come and see me in two weeks, Ava. And do not overexert yourself. You hear me, Little Missy?”
“I hear you, Doc. Two weeks. Be chill.”
Doc sighs. “You Durants will be the death of me,” he says, and ends the call.
My hand flops down in my lap, like the phone suddenly weighs a ton, and I let out a long pent-up breath.
Surprising no one, impatient Nate is the first to speak.
“Well? Jesus, Ava, what did he say?”
“I need a doodad,” I tell him.
Wrongtime to make jokes. Nate looks like the anger guy from the movieInside Out.
“Sorry, sorry,” I apologize. “Everyone, pull up a chair. Here’s the deal…”
They all sit, and I tell them what Doc just told me.
“We need coffee,” declares Shelby after I’m done, and bustles over to the kitchen counter.
“Doc saidgoodnutrition,” Nate calls after her.
Shelby’s coffee has been known to double as an engine degreaser.
And black coffee is all I’ve had today, so Nate probably has a point. I’ll pass.
It occurs to me that Cam’s said nothing. His posture in the chair is more sprawled than seated, like he’s dropped into it from a height. I catch his eye and give him an “Are you okay?” look. A slow smile breaks, and he starts shaking his head, as if to say he has no idea what the hell just happened. I know exactly how he feels. This is surreal. But guess what? I’m not dying!
I’m not dying and all I might need to feel like myself again is a month of rest. This I can do. Oh, yes. I can eat properly, and get enough sleep, and not drink.
Okay, maybe two out of three. Two-and-a-half if I stick to beer.
I get up, shake out my tense muscles and hop round behind Cam so I can hug him from behind, bury my face in his woodsmoke hair, nuzzle his neck. He pushes back his chair and pulls me onto his lap. Kisses me hard, and I kiss him right back.
“Ava.”
