Page 15 of Fight for Forever

Not even watching Megan work in my kitchen can perk me up right now. My head is pounding, and my sinuses are blocked. I have a scratchy throat and am pretty sure I have a fever. I hated cancelling on her. I’m not stupid enough to think I can go on a run feeling like this.

It’s been forever since I got sick. In fact, over the last ten years, I can count the number of times I got sick on one hand.

After setting the soup on to warm, Meg disappears down the hallway that leads to the gym and bedrooms. I close my eyes and lay my head back.

Meg comes back into the room carrying a first aid kit I keep in the bathroom. She sets it on the table and opens it.

“Meg, don’t get too close. I don’t want you to catch this.”

“Hush,” she opens up a digital thermometer and, after some fiddling, she gets it turned on.

I go to tell her how it works, but she points it at my forehead to take the reading. I guess she’s used one before. Her lips purse as she looks at the readout. Then she examines the bottles on thetable, cataloguing the vitamins I’ve taken and the large bottle of water, which I’ve hardly touched.

She turns the thermometer to show me, and I widen my eyes, though am not surprised the readout has turned red, showing a fever.

“First things first, you need to hydrate.” She hands me the water bottle. I take it and drink down half of it while she goes further into the first aid box. “Take two of these now,” she takes out a box of Motrin. “Taking it will bring down the fever.”

I’d argue I hate taking pharmaceutical medicine, but I’m not stupid. I swallow the pills while she clears everything away and asks me what other symptoms I’ve been having. I run through them, and she nods.

“It sounds like flu or a severe cold, but we need to get your temperature down. The tablets will help,” she repeats. “Now let me get the soup.”

I doze while she is in the kitchen. When she comes back, she helps me sit up and I manage half a bowl. She then decides I need to go to bed.

“I’m fine, Meg, you should go.”

“Don’t argue with me,” she stands up and pulls the blanket off me. “Let’s go.” She holds out a hand.

There is nothing sexual about the way she looks at my naked chest. She is genuinely concerned.

Once I’m in bed, and she’s brought everything I might need into the room, she disappears for a minute, then returns with a cold compress. She sits down on the edge of the bed and places it on my forehead.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I groan.

When I open my eyes, her lip is caught between her teeth and her cheeks are flushed as she stares at me. If I had even half of my wits about me, I might find that attractive. Who the fuck am I kidding?

She’s gorgeous, even if she’s concerned. In fact, that makes her even more appealing, and I can’t help the lazy smile I give her.

“Get some rest,” she says.

“Not tired,” I say.

“Is that so?” There is a hint of amusement in her tone.

My eyes are losing the battle to stay open, as much as I want to lie here and stare at her. She’s right, I’m exhausted. The soup, water and tablets are helping with the shitty feeling, but I can’t keep my eyes open.

I succumb to sleep, feeling Meg’s hand brushing my hair as she removes the cold compress.

Time ceases to register. I only know Meg keeps coming back to make sure I drink. She gives me the medication to continue to keep the fever down and I have some more of the delicious soup she brought.

I sleep on and off, but she is always there when I wake up. It doesn’t register with me she hasn’t left my apartment, or how long she has been here. Not until I wake up feeling less like I’m living in the burning asshole of hell. I convince her I’m good to take a shower and after checking my temperature again, she nods, satisfied I’ll be okay.

As I get washed, I realize everything she has done for me brought me to this point. I swear, when I first woke feeling like this, I wasn’t sure how the hell I would even make myself something to eat, never mind take a shower and feel halfway human again.

When I come back from the shower, Megan is in my room. It smells of lavender, which is a hell of a lot nicer than the medicinal tea tree I was burning when she got here, even if I swear it kills germs.

Everything is tidied up on my bedside, fresh water beside the meds, and she’s changed the sheets. I stand in the doorway holding the towel around my waist as she finishes straightening off theduvet, mesmerized as I watch her doing all of this, taking care of me.

I wonder how many times she has had someone in her life take care of her.

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