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He returned later that day with lunch and my key, and the assurance that the guinea pigs wouldn’t go hungry. I cried, much to his horror. Later that day, flowers were delivered to my desk. When I got home late that night, I discovered that not only did the guinea pigs have plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit, but my fridge was filled with food for me too.
I stood in the dim light of the refrigerator wondering what I could have possibly done to deserve having Holden in my life. It was a question I had been asking myself for weeks, and I just couldn’t figure it out. But I hoped — hoped so, so much — that he didn’t just view me as a member of the family, someone he was obligated to take care of. Because the lie I had been telling myself — about Holden being practically family — was getting harder and harder to believe by the second.
All our hard work at OmegaVs finally paid off, and in the very, very early hours of Friday morning, we finished replacing all the files whose backups had been corrupted — blessedly well ahead of schedule. There would be plenty of time for the last round of testers to do their thing and let us fix any issues, though I was confident they wouldn’t find any big problems at this stage.
I woke up later Friday morning feeling like I had been hit by a truck, and then that same truck had dumped a load of hot, steaming garbage onto me. My head was fuzzy and every single bone in my body ached. It was a tossup whether my throat or stomach hurt more. Thankfully, our boss had encouraged us to take the day off anyway, so I sat up just long enough to send the necessary emails letting people know I wouldn’t be coming into work, and promptly passed back out.
The second time I woke up was to the sound of my phone ringing. I grabbed it without even opening my eyes and swiped around until the ringing stopped.
“Sutton? Sutton? Hello?” Mama’s voice shouted from the phone.
I must have accidentally hit the answer button during my swiping. Sighing, I brought the phone to my ear, wedging it between my head and the pillow so I didn’t have to hold it in place.
“Hi Mama,” I croaked, sounding like someone had force-fed me a bucket of glass and then strangled me. “What’s up?”
“Sweet mother of Mary, Sutton, you sound terrible!” Mama exclaimed, her concern evident in her voice. “Honey, are you all right? Do you need Daddy and me to come up there?”
I resisted the urge to say yes. No matter how old I was, I would always want my mama when I didn’t feel good — my mama and her cooking. I didn’t want her to worry though, or at least not any more than she already was.
“No, it’s fine. I’m okay, just feeling tired and worn out.” I had to stop talking to cough. “I promise, I sound much worse than I feel.”
Surely the Lord wouldn’t strike me down in this condition.
“I just knew it! My mama senses told me to call you today, and they never fail me. Can you get in to see a doctor? What about an urgent care? I can call —”
“Mama,” I interrupted, the sound of her voice making it feel like someone was hammering nails directly into my skull. “I don’t need to go to the doctor. I just need some rest.”
Rest and entire bottle of ibuprofen. Possibly a coffin.
“This always happens to you, sweetie. You get so stressed out that you stop taking care of yourself and end up sick. Do you remember that Coders: The Next Generation competition your daddy took you to? Vomited the whole way home, bless your heart.”
“I know. Can I call you later? I want to go back to sleep.”
“Yes, but I want you to call me when you wake up, do you hear? If I don’t hear from you by the end of the day, I’m calling the police,” Mama threatened. The woman seemed to think the entire purpose of the police force was to perform unnecessary welfare checks on her children.
“Are you accepting texts?” I rasped, trying to make a joke.
“I will accept any form of communication that lets me know my baby is still breathing.” I swear her voice wavered at the end. “And you call me if you needanything. I don’t have a busy day at the salon tomorrow, so I can be up there in a blink.”
“I will,” I promised, debating whether I should set an alarm for this evening to call her. “I love you.”
I didn’t remember hearing her echoing “love you too” or hanging up. The sound of footsteps woke me at some point. My cheek was plastered to my phone and there was a puddle of drool on the screen. I tugged up the corner of the sheet to wipe off the screen, squinting to see the time before I remembered that time no longer mattered to the living dead.
“Sutton,” a familiar voice called out. “It’s Holden.”
Damn, I was kind of hoping it was a murderer here to put me out of my misery. Wait, what was Holden doing in my apartment? Oh God, was I hallucinating now? Was this a fever dream?
Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway, getting louder as they got closer to my room. I pulled the comforter up to my nose so that only my eyes and the top of my head were visible. If this wasn’t a hallucination, I really didn’t love the idea of Holden seeing me like this.
“Hey,” he greeted me, his voice a whisper. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”
He leaned against the doorway, and I angled my head so I could see him more easily. The motion made me wince and I had to swallow down something that I had a horrible feeling was barf. It was like my body couldn’t decide on just one illness so it was giving me a sampling of all the germs.
“Holden? What are you doing here?”
“Your dad called me and asked if I would check on you. Your mom was worried.” He shoved off the wall and walked toward the bed. I unconsciously dragged the blankets higher. “Maxine let me borrow her spare key.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m alive.” My words were muffled by layers of blankets. “I think.”
