“It matters to me.” I chew. The piece of steak melts like butter in my mouth. “I don’t want to owe anyone.”
“Good, because you aren’t going to owe me anything. You’re carrying my child.” My eyebrows immediately go up, and he corrects himself, “Our child. Let me help.”
I study the edge of my plate, not sure I’m up for this talk. Tonight kicked my ass. I’ve never been more tired in my life. It felt like every single muscle in my body was aching, and if I had the choice, I would sleep for a full two days straight.
“You’re tired.” I’m not sure if he’s asking me or telling me.
“Yeah.” I want to kick myself for admitting it. “But it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I was able to nap today for almost an hour between calls.”
“I’ll get out of your hair”—he gets up and walks over to the second fan—“as soon as I put this fan in your room.”
“Okay,” I sigh, taking another bite. I hear him in my room as I finish the steak, not even having the energy to enjoy it. “It wasn’t working,” he says as he comes back. “I had to put it on the other side.”
“Yeah, the plug next to my bed isn’t working properly.”
“You should get your landlord to look at that.” I don’t correct him.
“He did. It’s a couple of loose wires.” I shrug as I finish the last piece of asparagus. “Not a big deal. I don’t even use half of the outlets in my room anyway.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” I nod. “Can I get your number?” he asks me. I think about not giving it to him, but at this point, he knows where I live, and maybe if he has my number, he won’t just show up.
“I guess so.” I want to make a joke, but my eyes close. I swear I could fall asleep sitting on this fucking chair.
“Go to bed,” he urges me. “I’ll clean up and let myself out.” The energy I would have to expend fighting with him is just not worth it.
“Whatever. My phone is in my bag. Text yourself.” I motion with my hand. “See you later, or not.” I barely make it to my bed and under the sheets. He’s still moving around in my house, but I’m asleep too fast to care.
My eyes fly open as I sit up. I have just enough time to lean over the side of the bed to grab the little plastic pail I put there in case of emergency. The nausea rolls over me like waves crashing against the side of a rock wall.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, but not even that helps this time. Instead, it sets up a whole other round of me being sick. I sit in the middle of my bed, and my head hangs down. I wait until it’s been more than five minutes since I haven’t been sick before I get out of bed and head to the bathroom. I empty the bin into the toilet, rinsing it out a couple of times in the bathtub.
In the kitchen, the sunlight streams through the small window by the sink. The fan on the counter still moves side to side, cooling the room. I pick up the small bottle of soap, putting two drops into the pail before turning the water on and letting it soak. In the dish rack, I notice the cleaned container he brought the food in, along with the utensils and the glass, along with a frying pan I haven’t used in two days, and a small mixing bowl.
My phone is on the counter, holding down a note that flutters every time the breeze catches it.
Collins,
Washed everything, but didn’t want to make noise putting it away. I made you some scrambled eggs with a couple of slices of bacon. I left it on top of the stove.
Text me when you get up.
—Theo
My eyes fly to the plate on the stove. I lift the round cover, finding fluffy scrambled eggs and two pieces of bacon. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone make me breakfast, not even when I was a little kid. I don’t have time to think about it because my stomach lurches. I run to the bathroom, making it in time. Whatever didn’t come up before makes its way up now. At the end, all I’m doing is dry heaving; there is literally nothing left in my body.
I lie on the cool floor, no energy left in me. I close my eyes, and I don’t even know how much time passes as I drift off.
I open my eyes at the sound of my alarm. My body’s limp, and it feels like I’m stuck to the bath mat. As the alarm rings and rings, I slowly peel myself from the floor. When I’m standing, the dry heaving starts again. I know I won’t be able to work today.
Stopping the alarm, I pick up the phone and call Natalie.
“Hey, Collins!” Her voice is full of cheer and pep.
“Hey,” I sigh. “I really hate to do this, but I’m going to have to call out.”
“Call out?” she asks as if she didn’t hear me right. “You’ve never, ever called out before.”
“Yeah, I know.” I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. “I must have eaten something that wasn’t good yesterday,” I lie. “I’ve been throwing up all night. I don’t think?—”
