My head was pounding, and every time I turned it on the pillow, I wanted to puke and cry at the same time. My skin was on fire, and my eyelids scraped against my eyeballs when I tried to blink.
“It’s not fair,” I mumbled to myself. “If I was going to feel this fucking horrible, I should’ve at least gotten to have some fun first.”
The room was spinning, so I screwed my eyes shut again and tried not to moan. The sound made my head hurt even more, if that was possible. I’d forgotten to close the blinds in my bedroom, and now the sun was streaming in over me, exacerbating the dull thudding inside my brain.
Somehow, I either drifted off to a fitful sleep or passed out. An hour or a day or two weeks passed, and then there was a horrid sound filling my bedroom. I groaned and pulled another pillow over my head. After a minute, the sound stopped ... only to start up again a few seconds later.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Fuck it.” With my eyes still shut, I groped through the covers until my fingers closed around my ringing, vibrating cell phone. I managed to hit a button to make the sound stop. Dropping the phone next to my pillow, I rolled to my side and prayed for the sweet relief of death.
But apparently, I wasn’t going to get that lucky. The ringing had stopped, but now there was a voice.
“Babe? Amanda? Amanda! Are you there? Can you hear me?”
I opened my eyes a slit, and a sob ripped from my throat. “What? What, what, what?” My voice was a croak.
“Babe, are you okay? You sound ... funny. Bad funny, not ha ha funny.”
A hot tear leaked from my eye. “No, I’m not okay. I think I’m dying. Let me die, Vincent.”
“Amanda, honey, what’s wrong?” Now there was obvious alarm in his voice.
“I’m sick.” More tears joined the first. “I hurt, and I’m hot and I think I might have to throw up. Also, my throat’s sore and my chest feels tight. I want to die. I want to sleep.”
“Baby.” Vincent sounded slightly distraught. “You’re at home, right? You’re alone?”
I sniffled. “Where else would I be? And of course, I’m alone. I don’t even know what time it is. Or the day of the week.”
“It’s Saturday, babe. That’s why I was calling. You were supposed to come down here today, remember? We were going to spend the day together. I was just calling to see if you left yet.”
“No, I didn’t.” Another wave of tears shook my body. “I’m still here.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He sighed. “Listen, Amanda—don’t do anything, okay? Just stay there in bed. Youarein bed, aren’t you?”
“Mmmmmhmmmm.” My eyes were incredibly heavy again, but my stomach was roiling. “I gotta go, Vincent. I think I’m going to hurl, and I have to try to get to the bathroom.”
“Oh, baby. I’m sorry. All right. I’ll try—”
He might have said more, but I couldn’t wait around to hear it. The phone bounced on the bed as I kicked away the covers and half-ran, half-crawled toward the bathroom, where my gut turned itself inside out. When I couldn’t do anything else but gag, I fell onto the cold tile floor and shook until exhaustion took me over yet again.
“Uncle Vince, what’s wrong?” Frankie, my eight-year old niece, stood next to me, one hand on her small hip. “Is your friend coming down here? Are we going to the boardwalk?”
“Ah, sorry, sweetheart. My, um, friend is sick, so she can’t drive all the way down here.” I stared down at the screen of my phone, frowning. Amanda had sounded worse than just a little sick—she’d sounded like shit. The thought of her alone in her big apartment, possibly seriously ill, made my own stomach clench with worry.
When had this happened? When had my life spiraled so that I cared so deeply about whether some woman I’d slept with was down with the flu? But I’d known for a while that Amanda was more to me than just some woman. We’d been—whatever we were—for several months now. In spite of the obvious obstacles like distance and differences, I’d been surprised to realize how much I liked being with her and how easy our relationship was. She wasn’t demanding or petty. She was funny and sexy, and as time went on, I craved our time together a little more every day.
And now, thinking about how weak and helpless she had sounded on the phone, I had to admit that I had more than just the passing concern of a friend. I was anxious to get to her side, to do whatever I could to fix whatever was wrong. I needed to be there to make it better.
I briefly considered trying to call Amanda’s mother, to let her know so that she could get to the city and check on her daughter. But aside from our brief meeting at Ava’s wedding, I didn’t know Mrs. Simmons, and I wasn’t even sure I could get her number unless I somehow got in touch with Giff, who I would assume would be able to help.
On the other hand, the Simmons lived in Trenton, which was nearly as far from the city as I was right now. Rubbing my hand over my jaw, I glanced at Frankie.
“So, sport ... what do you think about a little road trip?”
I’d been to Amanda’s apartment enough now that the valet and the doorman recognized my car and knew me by name. When I pulled up in front of the large building, Phil the valet was there to open my door.
“Hey there, Mr. DiMartino. How’re you doing? We don’t usually see you this time of day.”
“Hey, Phil. Please, call me Vince.” It was a request I made every time I visited Amanda. “And yeah, this wasn’t exactly a planned visit. Have you seen Amanda today? I think she’s sick. I talked to her earlier, and I was pretty worried. That’s why we drove over.” I pointed into the backseat of my car. “My niece, Frankie, is with me.”
