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Hours later, I texted Marisa.
Me: Hope you’re feeling okay. It’s time to take your meds. On the nightstand.
Marisa: If you’re going to act like a doctor, you should at least play like a doctor.
Me: Meaning?
Marisa: Get back here, and I’ll show you.
After a spectacular round of hard-core texting, I worked doubly hard, making sure my tasks requiring immediate attention were handled. When I asked Jackson for permission to leave early, ensuring that if anything came up, I’d come right back, I left and headed back to Marisa’s place.
It wasn’t the sexual innuendos or the desire to man-handle her and play doctor with her that called out to me. It was the fact that I wanted to be there to take care of her. I knew she was talking the good talk, but when I called just to hear her voice, she sounded worse than when I left that morning.
She was sound asleep when I got back. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I fiddled around on my computer and did some more work. When I found myself twiddling my thumbs an hour later, I tried to find something useful to do.
Gathering the towels from the bathroom and her robe, I started a load of laundry. I was completely stunned and slightly humored when I opened her linen closet and discovered that Marisa was not as organized here as she was in the rest of her apartment. In fact, she was downright messy. “Messy Marisa,” I said as I took everything, and I meaneverything, out of the closet to put some order to. I separated everything into categories; sheets, towels, candles, andWhat the fuck was this?
I opened the box and immediately shut it, putting it way in the back of the space where she had it. I wasn’t even gonna go there. I couldn’t invade her personal space like I was her linen closet. Not that I wasn’t tempted. However, it was one thing to organize and clean; it was a whole other thing to look in a secret box.
“The woman can’t fold a sheet to save her life.” I shook my head and decided to wash and fold everything—properly. Every sheet and pillowcase was wrinkled. I started a new load, then started making homemade soup—well as homemade as I could being in someone else’s kitchen. I didn’t have all the ingredients I needed, but I made do with the things I’d ordered the night before. At least her refrigerator was stocked.And cleaned,I noted. In my boredom last night, I had gone through and organized the minuscule stock she had in her fridge. She didn’t have a lot to begin with. But by the time I’d thrown all the expired items away, she had less than the bare essentials left.
She stirred awake when I went in again but refused to eat or drink anything. She immediately went back to sleep. I immediately went back to my cleaning and organizing.
After three hours of doing laundry, folding everything, and putting it all neatly back in a systematic fashion, I checked in with Jackson. Nothing new there. But West Coast had approved our proposal, and we would start with them next week. It would be great to get back on the outside instead of being stuck behind a desk all day.
I was able to get Marisa to eat a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. Pleased she hadn’t complained, I went back to my tasks, leaving her to go back to sleep. She wouldn’t be going in to work tomorrow either. I knew she was on the brink of the worst of it. After tomorrow, she’d probably be fine. Or, as she said, “Find.” I laughed to myself and kept myself entertained with the least manly tasks known to humankind.
Funny thing was, I was happier than a pig in shit doing it.
