“Eddie?”I said.
“I’m here,” he said.“I’ll call you back.”Then he disconnected.I felt this wave of nausea, and I was still lying on the floor.I tried a trick my therapist taught me—square breathing—and it helped.Then the phone rang again, and it was him.
“I’m on my way,” he said.“How are you doing?”
“Hurry.”I couldn’t talkandfocus on not puking.But it was okay.He did all the talking.He talked to me his whole way home, and I closed my eyes and pretended he was beside me, and that helped.
And then I heard his key in the lock, and he was home.
“Craig?”He put his arms around me.
“I threw up.Sorry.”
“I’ll clean it up.”He brushed the hair out of my eyes.“Can you get onto the couch?”
He had to help me.I was heavier than he was, and it wasn’t easy for him.He got me to lie on the couch, and it was softer than the floor.
“Can you get my painkillers?”I said.“And some water?”
“Sure.”
He let me go, and I heard him in the bathroom and then the kitchen.Then he was back, and he propped me up and put the pill in my mouth.He had to hold my water bottle so I could drink from it because my hands were too shaky to hold it myself.I had to stop swallowing to breathe.Sitting up had been a mistake.“Think I’m gonna be sick again.”
“Try to hold it in,” he said.“You just took a pill.”
“Okay.”I lay down, and he set a garbage pail in front of me.“Hold on.”
I heard him in the kitchen opening the freezer.He came back with something wrapped in a towel and pressed it to the back of my neck.It was really cold, and I started shivering, but I stopped feeling sick.
He sat beside me on the couch.“Does that help?”
I nodded.The painkillers shouldn’t be working yet, but I felt better, then tired, and I rested my head in his lap.He was still wearing his coat, and he held my hand, and with his other hand, he stroked my forehead gently.No one had ever touched me like that before.He was so warm, and his presence was this deep orange glow enclosing me, and I started to fall asleep with my head in his lap.
The next thing I knew, he was nudging me awake and coaxing me to bed.He had to help, because I didn’t want to move or open my eyes.Then I was in bed, and he was pulling my coat off and taking off my boots, and pulling the covers over me, and I went back to sleep.
When I woke up again, the pain was gone, but I felt like a bus had hit me and then backed over me and parked.He was lying beside me fast asleep with his arm around me.I was still fully dressed.It was six a.m.Today was my dance scene.
I’d competed in dance sick before, so no way was I going to back out.Part of it was that he’d put his neck on the line to get me this role, and I didn’t want to let him down.The other part was that I didn’t want anyone, let alone Jack, accusing me of wimping out or being unprofessional.
I eased out of bed carefully so I wouldn’t wake him.I found what was left of my puke in the hallway.He’d tried, but what I’d learned living with him for months was that he wasn’t very thorough when he cleaned things.
I had a shower, feeling like I’d gained fifty pounds.Everything I did took extra effort.I got my socks on after the third try, and after I got dressed, I started shaving.Then my body decided I needed to lie down, like, now.So I went back to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
“You want me to call you in sick?”he said.
“I can do it.Bring me my phone?”
He got up, and when he came back, he put the phone in my hand.I called and left Simon a message then hung up.“What time does Jack want me?”
“Craig, you’re sick.”
“I can do this, Eddie.”
“Four o’clock,” he said.
“I can sleep here till then.”
“Come to work with me,” he said.“You can stay in my trailer all day.There’s a bed there, and I can check on you.The set’s catered too.I can bring you food if you’re hungry.We can take an Uber there.You only have to walk downstairs, and you can spend the rest of the day sleeping.”
