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I began doing research on what to do. Hospitals were still close to capacity, so they would only take people who were inverybad shape. Despite her fever and coughing, she still had no trouble breathing. She was a borderline case.
For my own part, I was recovering. My sense of taste was still gone, but my temperature was totally normal. I even had some of my energy back, although I was still more tired than usual. Compared to how I was a few days ago, I called that a win.
Throughout the day I sat next to the bed and listened to Molly sleep. Was that a wheeze I heard? Or a rasp? I couldn’t be certain. It might have just been her arm moving under the covers.
Every few hours I made her sit up and drink something. “I had… a sexy dream… about you,” she mumbled during one such break.
“Is that so?” I asked.
She sipped warm broth and nodded. “It was sexy. You were there. So was your penis.”
“Meandmy penis were there?” I asked. “Sounds like a party.”
Molly nodded softly. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery. “I was there too. So was my vagina. You weredoing stuffto it.”
“Yeah?”
She handed me the bowl of broth and sighed back into the pillows. “It was nice. I’m going back there now. Bye bye.”
I stroked her hair and said, “Sweet dreams, Feisty.”
“Not… feisty… right now,” she mumbled as sleep took her.
I did everything that was recommended. I kept her hydrated and gave her aspirin. Her fever broke and she tossed the covers off, then slept on the bare bed. Hours later the fever returned and she was shivering again.
I tried feeding her toast and jam that night. That was a mistake. It stayed down for about twenty seconds before she scrambled to the bathroom.
The next day, her fever was the highest it had been: thirty-eight point nine. That was the equivalent of one hundred and two Fahrenheit.
“That’s it,” I said while looking up the emergency number. “You’re not getting better, Molly. It’s time to take you to the hospital.”
I dialed the number. When someone answered, I recited the words I had memorized from Google Translate: “Emergenza. Malata di virus.”Emergency. Sick with virus.
My accent must have been terrible, because I was transferred to someone who spoke English.
“Hello? What is emergency?”they asked in a thick accent.
“My… Girlfriend is sick,” I said. “She tested positive for the virus four days ago, and her symptoms are getting worse. She’s coughing non-stop, her breathing is getting raspy, and she has a fever of a hundred—I mean, a fever of thirty-nine Celsius.”
“What is your location?”she asked.
“We’re at the Residencia Al Gladiatore hotel. In the Piazza del Colosseo. Her name is Molly Carter. She should be in the testing registry.”
I heard typing on the other side. “Yes. Very good. She is able to walk, yes?”
I glanced at the bed. “The last time I fed her, she barely had enough strength to sit up in bed. Can you send an ambulance?”
“Yes, ambulance, of course,” she replied. “Ambulance can arrive… Nine o’clock.”
I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes from now? Perfect. I can bring her downstairs if…”
“No, no, no,” the operator replied. “Nine o’clock tonight.”
“What?”
“Very busy. Many sick.”
After confirming her information and hanging up, I paced around the room. Molly’s shivering was worse, and the aspirin wasn’t breaking the fever. Her coughs were rougher and rougher, too.
