Page 52 of Barrett

Grabbing the ice packs from the freezer, I ripped off a couple of paper towels to wrap the ice packs in. The door opened. Reghan must have taken the steps two at a time.

The moment he was inside, his eyes scanned the apartment. “What happened?”

“What?”

“You’re upset. Who hurt you or Marshall?”

“No one.”

Marshall groaned from his room.

“We have to be quiet,” I whispered. “Mars has a migraine.”

Reghan looked at me, at the ice packs in my hands. He closed the door and locked it, removed his boots, shrugged off his coat, then took the ice packs and went up the hall.

“What are you doing?” I whispered as I rushed after him. “Don’t do anything to make it worse. Sound hurts his head and so does light.”

Reghan said nothing as he walked into my brother’s room and crouched next to the bed so he could talk to Marshall.

“Reghan?”

“It’s me. Barrett said you have a migraine.”

He nodded.

“Have you gotten them before?”

“For a long time.”

“Okay. Do you have any medication you can take?”

“He ran out,” I told Reghan. “He was supposed to see his doctor yesterday, but the appointment was moved, and he has no refills.”

“What was it? Pills or an injection?”

“Insurance won’t cover the injections or any of the newer medications. They’re making him try all the cheaper shit first.”

“Assholes,” Reghan bit out. “Where does it hurt?” he asked my brother.

“My eyes.”

Reghan lifted the ice packs and told Marshall to slowly roll to his back. Once he did, Reghan laid the ice packs gently on his eyes. It was then everything clicked into place. Reghan knew what Marshall could be taking. He knew to ask where the pain was.

“The weather’s fine,” Reghan muttered. “The barometer didn’t drop. Did you eat something different? Maybe a trigger food?”

“Trigger food?”

“There are certain foods that can make migraines terrible. Ones with preservatives in them, like nitrates. Think of bacon, lunch meat, and other stuff.”

“None of that.”

“Okay, what about nuts? Did you eat anything with peanut butter or hazelnuts? Maybe seeds or aged cheese? Certain fruit can do it too.” Either Reghan knew someone who suffered, or he did himself because there was no way he’d known to ask otherwise.

“Someone at work gave me peanut butter cookies and I ate them this afternoon.”

“More than you’d usually eat?”

He nodded.

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