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“Sorry. What did you say?”
“If you don’t hurry, you won’t have time to run home first, and I don’t think you want to show up in the same clothes as yesterday.” She eyes me for a moment. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“An hour tops, I guess.” I don’t know. I’ve never been this sick.
“I’ll drive you. You’re worse off than I am, and you’re worrying me.”
&nb
sp; “I’m sick, Elizabeth, not incapable. Hell, you’re sick. If you can drive, I can drive.”
She holds up my trembling hands because I’m still freezing like it’s negative ten in here instead of a warm seventy-eight. I pull my hands away from hers.
“I can take care of myself.” I stand and sway for a moment. Shaking my head, as if that’ll help, I start sluggishly grabbing my clothes and tugging them on. I don’t know why I’m pissed, but I am. “I haven’t been sick since I was a kid, and I took care of myself then, so I think I can do it now that I’m an adult.” A coughing fit interrupts me, but it doesn’t stop my rant for long. “I’m not weak, Elizabeth. Even now, I’m not weak.” Even now, as I have to lean against the wall while I button my shirt because I’ve been depleted of energy to stand on my own. “I’ll drive myself.” God, I’m so tired.
Elizabeth walks over to me and crushes me in a hug. My shoulders sag. This is why I went off on her. It’s not often I feel vulnerable, but I did just now and there was an overwhelming urge to lean on her.
“Even the strongest of people need someone to take care of them every now and then,” she whispers. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Finish getting dressed, so we can go.”
We run around, going from my house to the arena to Elizabeth’s doctor appointment where I wait in the car to the pharmacy, and then finally back to her house. We’ve been lying in bed, mostly. Elizabeth has been able to eat a little soup, but I haven’t wanted anything.
My head is on Elizabeth’s shoulder while she alternates running her fingers through my hair and massaging my scalp. She’s been looking after me all day. Trying to get me to eat and drink. Making sure I’m warm. Rubbing my back. Handing me tissues. Cuddling with me. I’ve tried to do the same for her because she’s sick, too, but she won’t let me and when she says no the first time, I stop fighting because I’m tired and I don’t feel well.
“Your dad never took care of you when you were a kid and sick?” she asks softly.
“Don’t take advantage of me in my frail state.”
“When have I ever asked questions?”
I sigh. She has a point. She usually doesn’t, if she ever has to start with. “If I wasn’t in the hospital, then I was healthy enough to keep playing, keep going to school, and keep doing my chores. So, if I was as sick as I am now back then, he’d still make me go to school, contagious or not, still make me lace up, too tired and coughing or not, and still make me work my ass off whether I should be doing it or not.”
When I glance up at her because I want to see her reaction, she’s frowning. “He sounds like a bastard.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
“Two more questions.”
I rest my head on her shoulder again. “What are they?”
“You’ll tell me the entire story at some point?”
“Yes.”
“How bad is it?”
“What do you think?”
“Really bad?”
“Really bad,” I confirm. “But the worst is in the past, so don’t let it worry you.” My eyelids are finally starting to get heavy. Her chest moves with a shaky sigh, and she says something, but sleep has already come to take me away.
Next time I wake up, I’m in bed alone. “Elizabeth!” I shout, not bothering to move or lift my head or look around in case she’s somewhere in the room. Holy hell, what kind of flu is this? How can I feel worse? “Elizabeth!”
“What is it?”
