Page 7 of Beyond Reach

“Get yourself together, Chanda,” she muttered to herself. “You’re never sick, but even if you feel like you want to die from nausea, suck it up!”

She had to finish washing before he returned. Her stomach refused to listen to commands. It rocked and reeled. This was emotions and stress, she guessed. As soon as she saw her cousin with Garner, she would be better.

The thought brought on another bout of sickness. She pitched forward and fell out of the tiny shower onto the bathroom floor.

“Crap!”

A door slammed. Wait, how long had she been daydreaming about Garner and Marcella? He couldn’t have found a drug store that fast. She scrambled to her feet and cried out as her stomach turned upside down. Bending over the sink, she drew in deep breaths.

A banging started on the bathroom door. “Chanda?”

He tried the knob. She panicked and reached for a towel to wipe away most of the suds still on her skin. “I’m fine. What are you doing back so soon?”

“The front desk has nausea meds. They’re generic, but they may work. I bought you a soda too.”

She grunted her thanks.

“Are you okay? I thought I heard you moan.”

“No,” she lied. “I mean I didn’t moan, not that I’m not okay.”

She tightened the towel, which hardly fit around her broad hips and then leaned her head on the sink. The chilly surface helped. Garner called her name again and rattled the doorknob. She felt confident that she’d locked the door. That is until the lock clicked and the door opened.

“What are you doing, Garner?” She didn’t even raise her head.

“I didn’t break it. It unlocked on its own.”

“Yeah right.”

“More importantly, what are you doing?”

“Drinking tea.”

He wrapped an arm about her waist and guided her into the bedroom. After tucking her into a seat at the tiny round table, he popped open the can of soda and dropped two white pills into the palm of her hand. Afterward, to her relief, he moved away.

She took the pills and swallowed a few sips of the soda. “Thanks. I don’t know what my deal is. Maybe I had some bad spaghetti or whatever.”

“Your favorite food.”

She glanced over at him. He stood in front of the A/C vent, and she questioned whether the room was too chilly. Right then, she was on fire.

He remembered her favorite food? What else did he recall? Should she tell him the secret she kept from him? Did it matter? No, she decided. It didn’t matter because he had moved on, and so had she.

“I’m doing better now. You can go.”

“I’ll leave when you’re in bed.”

“That’s inappropriate.”

“I fully intend to tell Marcella that you were ill and I looked after you.”

She gazed at him.

“We are honest with each other.”

“You mean you make a habit of helping sick women and going to their hotel rooms with them?”

He smiled. “No. I did it because it’s you.”

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