Page 39 of Prosecco with My Professor
She sits up with my help, throwing off the cape-slash-blanket. I crack open a bottle of sports drink, the kind with electrolytes, and don’t let her stop until it’s empty.
This time, when she lays back down, she splays out on the couch. A new sheen of sweat has slicked her skin, but she falls asleep easily again.
I wait for Chiara impatiently. Emma’s phone is on the coffee table and won’t turn on when I tap the screen, so I find the plug and set it to charge. Then I take the sheets off Emma’s bed and, when I can’t find another set, set them to wash and make the bed with sheets of my own. Emma’s phone chirps repeatedly when it turns on; I suspect she has a few people other than me worried about her.
Guilt stops me for a moment, but I know Emma has friends and family who would worry about her and who knows how long it’s been since her phone had a charge. She never even let the university know she was sick.
It all becomes a moot point when I tap the screen and it asks for a face ID. It’s not worth waking her up over another hour or so of her friends’ worry.
I sit on the floor against the wall with my phone, waiting. Emma coughs occasionally, a wet sound that makes me worry.
Finally, Chiara messages that she’s here. I kiss her cheek at the building entrance and lead her up.
“How long has she been sick?” Chiara asks when she sees Emma, setting her bag on the coffee table.
“She was in lectures Monday and Tuesday, so maybe it started that night or Wednesday morning?” I guess.
Chiara gently wakes Emma and gets her sitting up. She checks her throat, her neck, takes her temperature again, and asks a few questions about how she’s feeling. Pulling a stethoscope from her bag, she listens to Emma’s breathing, and then taps on her back in a few places. Finally, Chiara sits back on her heels. I finally notice she’s wearing pumps and pressed slacks, with full makeup and a nice blouse. I might have interrupted a date night.
“Emma,” the doctor says. “You have pneumonia. Do you have someone that can take care of you?”
“I can,” I offer. Well, I insist, but I keep my tone pleasant.
Chiara smiles back at me before returning to Emma. “Is there someone else you’d rather call?”
Emma hums, her eyes closed and I worry she might have fallen back asleep. “What day is it?” she finally asks.
“Friday night.”
“Maybe Tessa?”
Disappointed, I pull out Emma’s phone. Chiara moves to give me room so I can hold Emma’s phone up to her face to unlock it. There are a ton of WhatsApp notifications, and I click on them to find missed calls from several people. There are new messages in chats, too, but I ignore them and click on the missed call from Tessa.
“Emma!” a friendly but sedate voice answers. “We were getting worried.”
“Actually, it’s Santo. Ah, Professor Offredi.”
The tone immediately shifts to concern. “Is Emma okay?”
“She has pneumonia, unfortunately.” I explain the scenario to Tessa, who makes all kinds of noises over Emma’s welfare. “The doctor asked if she had anyone who could take care of her, and she asked for you.” I’m pleased with how neutral the statement comes out instead of desperate for Emma to want my help.
“Oh god. We were just in Zurich together—did she tell you that?”
“No.”
“We were all in Zurich together—that’s Emma, me, Jade, and Sara, the same women there the night you, uh…met Emma. Anyway, we spent a lot of time outside, going to the Christmas market and stuff. It was pretty cold, and with all the people and traveling, I guess we passed something around.”
I grunt in acknowledgment.
“Sounds like Emma got it the worst,” she continues. “Jade was out sick Tuesday but worked from home the rest of the week. Sara missed it entirely so far. My throat started getting sore last night. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to fly.”
I relay this information to the doctor, who agrees Tessa shouldn’t travel.
“Should we call her family?” Tessa asks. “Maybe one of the kids could come take care of her. Or, there’s Bruce.” Tessa says it hesitantly, like she isn’t sure Emma would want that.
Dear god, I don’t want Bruce to come, and I doubt Emma does either. “If you want to call them, you can, but I’ll be here taking care of her, regardless.”
“You will?” Tessa asks. “Don’t you have to teach on Monday?”
