Page 56 of Goodbye Again
By the time I’m on the sidewalk in the sweltering, muggy heat of August, I regret wearing a sweatshirt. I regret coming outside. I regret encountering every single person in the past week that could have gotten me this sick. My body is weak, and my head spins. It feels like ice is pouring through my veins, and I shiver, even though it’s ninety degrees out.
“Come on, Kevin. Hurry,” I try to encourage him, but he wags his tail, no doubt begging me to walk him around the block at least. “No, just go potty, buddy. Please.”
Finally, he does and we return to the apartment, exhausted. Well, I’m exhausted. Kevin still wants to play. I collapse on thecouch and he brings me his tennis ball. I do my best to toss it around the apartment, hoping my neighbor Alfie downstairs doesn’t get too frustrated with the noise, but at this point, I’m too fatigued to care.
Before the day is done, I call to let work know there’s no way I’ll be in tomorrow either.
MY BRAIN IS SCREAMINGand body aches seize every chattering bone throughout the night. Sleep is fitful, and I wake feeling even worse the next morning. I manage to take Kevin out, dressed as a gaunt troll and feeling like a barnacle that just got pried off its rock and fed to a shark, then regurgitated and thrown into a rip tide.
I can’t even remember the last time I was this sick.
I try to eat. I try to drink. But every bite and sip are painful. After I force the last bite of toast down my throat, I flop back on the couch and groan.
The sudden movement makes my stomach roil and survival instinct gets me to the toilet to vomit out the very small amount of food in my stomach. I wipe my mouth with toilet paper and try to make it to the bed but it just seems too far away. My neck still refuses to let my head turn and my legs have no interest in getting me to the bed.
I collapse on the floor, too weak to even cry.
This is it.This is how I die.
I hear a faint bark and the latch of the door. When the sound of JP’s voice hits my ears, I’m certain I’m hallucinating.
“Jules, it’s JP. Are you in here?” the voice is saying. Kevin is yelping and hopping around him, thrilled there’s a capable human that isn’t on the cusp of death. “Jules!”
He crouches next to me. I’m overwhelmed by his scent. Even in my state, it makes me perk up. But only on the inside. On theoutside, I remain motionless, with my cheek smashed against the carpet, preparing for death to take me.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I croak.
“Fuck, Jules,” he breathes, putting a hand on my forehead. Another on my back, examining me for injury and illness.
“This is embarrassing,” I manage. “I was planning on dying without an audience.”
He doesn’t laugh. “This is...” he hesitates. “Not good. Jules, you need to go to the hospital.”
“No, I think I’ll just die,” I say, though there isn’t much humor in my voice. JP pulls me up into a sitting position, scooping an arm under my legs and the other around my back. I curl into him like a newborn baby.
“Everything hurts, JP,” I whimper. I barely recognize the sound of my voice. It’s weak and childlike. It is so unlike me. I should be able to handle the flu, but I have been reduced to near death within thirty-six hours. “I’m not faking it, I swear. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he says, carrying me out of my apartment and down the hall.
In an instant, I’m in his car, and he’s driving down the freeway. The jump from my apartment to his car is only amplifying my dreamlike state, and I’m convinced I’ve been going in and out of consciousness.
I wonder if I really am going to die.
I focus on his profile in the setting sun through the car window. The swoop of his hair. His perfect lips. His strong hands on the steering wheel, the ones that carried me into the car like I was a bag of groceries and not a whole person.
I have to tell him before I die. I have to.
“JP?” I whisper.
“Yeah, Jules.”
“I think I love you.”
The whirring of the vehicle racing down the freeway fills the air for a moment, long enough for me to think he didn’t hear me. But then, he says, “We’re almost there. We’ll talk about it later.”
Gramma Elle
“You can fight or you can pray. But if you do both, you’ll make the devil cry.”
