Page 57 of The Guy in the Alley

I’d ask him.

Fuck, why was this so hard? And why did my chest feel all…uncomfortable? I had this tightness—I couldn’t describe it. But it was as if a physical restraint was slinging more worries on the pile. What if he needed to go to the hospital? I didn’t know how long he’d been surviving on too little food. He could be severely dehydrated too.

Screw it.

I headed for the hallway and knocked on the door. “Ben? Are you sure it’s just the flu?”

I heard him wretch and spit into the toilet.

Maybe Ziggy had given him rabies. If Ben started foaming at the mouth, I was calling animal control.

“You need a priest?” I threw that out there too.

He made a croaky, coughy sound. “Jackass.”

I grinned slightly, quickly, just wanting him to be okay.

“I’m fine,” he said hoarsely. “I caught whatever Angie had and…” He flushed the toilet. “Kinda hard to be your own nurse out there.”

I could imagine.

“I haven’t eaten well. Too little to drink too.”

And undoubtedly not enough proper rest and warmth. Yeah, no wonder. Okay, but this felt better. Additionally, he’d chugged two Cokes and eaten two slices of pizza. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to reintroduce his stomach to food and drink.

I made a mental note to talk to Ma tomorrow. She was helping us at the soup kitchen.

Hearing the telltale sound of someone brushing their teeth, I returned to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Which…was a sorry sight. I mean, the door was filled with condiments, but that was about it. I did have a banana that was reserved for my favorite weekend breakfast, toast with Nutella and sliced banana. Would that be better? ’Cause otherwise, we were looking at beer, two Styrofoam containers, a packet of kielbasa, two jars of Ma’s giardiniera, and half a churro from Costco that Chip hadn’t finished.

Banana, it is.

I was going to eat lasagna, and Ben was going to eat a banana and drink water—if he could stomach anything at all.

Good deal.

I brought everything to the front room and practiced patience while I sat down on the foot of the bed and channel-surfed.

When that didn’t work, I pulled out my phone and texted my mother.

I know it’s late. Don’t give me shit. Just wondering what foods to eat when u have the flu. (It’s for a friend.) Answer when u wake up.

Finally. The bathroom door opened, and Ben soon reappeared in the doorway.

I chewed around a mouthful of lasagna. “Banana?”

He let out a breath and trailed closer. “I…maybe. My stomach’s still unsettled.” He sat down a couple feet away and draped the covers around his shoulders. “Now I know what Coke looks like when it comes up.”

Intriguing.

“It looks like Coke,” he finished.

I grinned.

“I think I drank too fast,” he admitted.

He didn’t even look at the lasagna; he seemed way more interested in getting more sleep, and I couldn’t blame him.

I jerked my chin over my shoulder. “Go to bed. I’m right behind you.”

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