Page 103 of Dr. Stone
“Hey, handsome,” she responded in a weak, hoarse voice that instantly troubled me. “I’m so sorry to do this, but I don’t think I can make it.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
I heard her sigh. “I think I have a pretty bad case of food poisoning…” She paused, and her breathing was heavy.
I could tell it was a struggle to get through the call. “Oh, no, not food poisoning. I feel that pain. How do you think you got it?”
“It must’ve been the crab dip I was snacking on at my parents’ house. I took a few bites after I got there, and I started to feel a bit sick after I left the house. I barely made it to my place before it hit me hard.”
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling awful for her. “Let me come over and take care of you. Last time I got food poisoning was during my fellowship in Boston, and I was on death’s door for three days.”
“That’s exactly where I feel I am,” she said. “I’m sorry for the last-minute cancellation, but don’t worry about me. I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Are you sure? If I’m there, I can get you anything you need while you suffer through this. I have to study for a major surgery scheduled the day after tomorrow, so I can do that while you sleep all day tomorrow.”
“God, you really are perfect. The best, actually.”
I furrowed my eyebrows, the unease settling deep in my gut like a weight I couldn’t shake. She wasn’t just sick. Something was off, and my mind ran through every possibility, each worse than the last. Was she pulling away? Was I losing her before I even had the chance to hold on?
“I feel the same about you. Let me come over and help you out.”
“Honestly, I just need to lie down. If I need anything, I’ll call you.”
“Yes, please do,” I said earnestly, not wanting to push her when she didn’t feel well. “Go rest, gorgeous. I’ll leave the ringer on tonight just in case.”
“Thanks.”
We ended the call, and I glanced down at the coffee I bought her, seeing it still steaming, and frowned. I wished I’d found the right words to get her to trust me enough to let me help, but I didn’t want to push her. So, instead of heading home, I decided to spend the night on the sailboat, figuring I’d cover it up and pack it away in the morning, maybe get back out on it in a couple of weeks if I was lucky.
The evening was nice, but for the first time since meeting Andie, it didn’t feel like the escape it usually did for me. I felt unsettled, not knowing what I should do to help my sick lady. Fuck. This was the part where I felt like I was about to fuck things up. Wondering if showing up would be too much, but then, if I didn’t, would she think I didn’t care?
The next morning, after putting the boat away, I pulled out my phone and checked for a text. Nothing. It was nine in the morning; she should be up by now. Fuck. Maybe she was still sleeping. When I got food poisoning, I was laid out for three days. What if she’d been up all night and hadn’t slept at all?
I just decided to make the damn call. I wasnota man who sat around overthinking shit. When I needed answers, I got them. More importantly, perhaps just calling and leaving a message would be enough for her to know I was here for her if she needed anything, and I was thinking about her.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I said after her voicemail picked up the call. “I hope you’re feeling better today. I’m just checking in on you. I’ll be at my house all day studying for that surgery, so if you need anything, call.”
I ended the call, feeling a bit more at ease but hating this feeling of helplessness. Something wasn’t sitting right with my black-and-white way of processing things. Thank God I was excellent at compartmentalizing things and throwing myself into work, though, because that would be the only thing to keep this off my mind.
By seven that night, after hours of diagrams and valve replacement data, I couldn’t pretend anymore. If I didn’t see her, I wouldn’t be able to breathe. I stopped at the store, grabbed ginger ale, crackers, anything that might help, and drove straight to her place.
I left her a voicemail on the way:Heading over to check on you.
Andie opened the door in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, but her beautiful face had no color, and her stunning eyes were dull with dark circles under them.
“Hey,” she whispered.
I cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the dark circle under her eye. “That’s the last time I let you push me away when you’re sick,” I murmured, kissing her forehead.
Her smile was weak. “Thank you.”
“I brought you a few remedies.” I lifted the bag. “Mind if I come in?”
“If you stay, I’ll probably just fall asleep on you.”
“That would be a dream,” I teased, following her inside.
Andie curled up on the couch, pulling her chenille throw over her as she tucked herself into the pillow like it was her safe place. I stood there for a moment, watching her, my chest aching with the helpless urge to take away her pain.
