Chapter 25 Melanie
MELANIE
Three days later, I can’t get out of bed. Josh’s blaring alarm to my left builds irrational rage in my tired body. My eyes burn, even though I haven’t opened them yet. My throat is drier than the Sahara Desert, and there’s a deep ache under my chin.
“Please,” I whine, pulling a pillow over my head. “Will you turn that off?”
A moment later the sound stops, and Josh’s strong arm drapes over my hip bone. I squirm out of his embrace, too uncomfortable to be touched.
“Whoa, what’s with you this morning?” Josh asks, sitting up on his elbow and pulling the pillow off my face. He lets out a soft gasp. “Do you feel okay? You don’t look so hot.”
His palm finds my forehead. He feels it for a moment before flipping his hand over and feeling my cheeks. “I think you have a fever.”
“I feel like I got run over by a school bus,” I moan. “What is happening to me? I never get sick.”
“I am pretty sure you are sick.” Josh hops out of bed and disappears into the kitchen. I close my eyes again and I’m just drifting back into sleep when I feel his touch on my arm. “Here, drink this.”
I peer at him through one eye. He’s holding a glass of ice water with a twisty straw. “Ugh,” I groan. “I can’t. I’m nauseous.”
“You have to stay hydrated.” He pushes the straw toward my lips, and I open for him, taking a small sip. My throat instantly feels relief. He pulls it back when I stop drinking.
“More,” I whisper, and seconds later the straw is in my mouth again.
“Do you have a thermometer? Do you want some Advil or anything?” Josh sits on the edge of the bed by my feet.
“In the bathroom drawer,” I mumble.
Josh disappears again and returns a moment later with the thermometer. “Open,” he tells me, poking my lips with the silver tip.
“I just drank water. It won’t even be accurate.” I drape my forearm over my forehead.
“Just humor me,” Josh says, sitting again and patting my knee. His touch sends a chill through me and not the good kind.
I open my mouth and the thermometer beeps almost instantly. “102.6. Shit.” Josh mutters. “Mel, that’s really high for an adult. Do you want to go to the doctor? I can take you.”
“No,” I whine, rolling into the fetal position. “Not moving.” My voice is muffled into the pillow.
“Okay,” Josh says, even though he doesn’t sound sure. He stands and pulls the covers up to my chin. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy and get some things that might help you. Will you be okay for a little bit?”
I don’t look at him, my eyes are already closed again. “I’ll be fine,” I murmur into the pillow. “Just go.”
* * *
I’m not sure how long I sleep but a while later, I awaken to the faint clatter of pots and pans and the smell of something nostalgic.
Soup. I have no appetite and my body aches like I climbed Mount Everest, but appreciation for the man in the next room fills me up.
In the past, if I was sick like this, I was on my own.
If I called my dad, he’d drop food or medication on my front stoop, but I’d wave him off, never wanting to share my germs.
Josh doesn’t think twice about it. He’s in my kitchen, moving around like he belongs there, and every small sound from the other room tells me what I must mean to him.
Before I can stop it, my eyes fill with self-pity tears and I sniff them quickly away, wiping the fallen ones with the back of my hand.
Josh must hear me because he bolts for my room. He stands in my doorway, leaning into the frame. “You’re awake,” he rasps.
I shake my head. “Barely,” I murmur, wincing. My whole body throbs.
“How about some more liquids?” Josh doesn’t wait for me to reply—he darts to the kitchen and returns with a bag with the local pharmacy logo on it and a water bottle.
“I got you some electrolyte powder with immune support and some ibuprofen.” He strides over to the bed and sits at my feet. “Can you sit up?”
I push to my elbow on one arm and hold out my hand for the water bottle, taking a sip. Ice-cold lime flavor fills my mouth and a knot forms in my stomach. Hunger. It’s quickly followed by a wave of nausea.
“I made you soup.” Josh rakes a finger through his hair. “I’m not sure it’s any good but I tried. Nobody likes that canned shit.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “I don’t think I’m ready to eat anything.”
Josh puts a palm to my forehead. “You’re still really hot.” Then he cracks a smile, “Literally and figuratively.”
My eyes fill with burning tears again, and I rapidly blink them away but fail miserably.
Josh’s face falls. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He inches closer to me.
“I just feel so awful. And you’re taking care of me. You made me soup,” I wail, falling back on the pillow.
Josh gets up from his spot at the foot of the bed and kneels down beside me, thumbing away a tear. “Hey, of course I did. I’m here, babe. I’m not going anywhere.” He strokes some hair off my forehead that got wet with my tears.
I sniffle and nod. “Thank you. I’ve never had anyone take care of me before.”
Josh pushes his lips into a line, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
He quickly changes the subject. “I want you to take some meds and I got…” He pauses, rummaging in the bag.
“I got you an at home flu-COVID test. If the results are negative, you need to see a doctor, Mel. It’s not normal for an adult to have a fever this high. ”
“I don’t like things in my nose.” I shoot him a suspicious look and hug myself, leaning away from him.
“Come on, babe. Don’t you want to feel better?” Josh quirks an eyebrow. “Then we can get back to making music?”
“Fine,” I grumble. I force myself to sit up and hold out my hand. Josh puts Tylenol Cold and Flu capsules in my palm, and I toss them back.
“When they wear off, you can take some Advil to stay ahead of the body aches.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “Now, it’s time for the test. Do you want to do it, or shall I help you?”
I furrow my brow and pout.
A playful curve touches Josh’s mouth. “Mel, we just talked about this. You can go back to sleep after.”
“Fine.” I huff out an exasperated breath. “You do it,” I mutter sullenly.
“What was that?” Josh leans in, cupping his ear, a teasing glint in his eye. “I didn’t hear you.”
I relent, sighing. “I would really like it if you could help me with it.”
Josh leans forward and kisses my forehead. He is so unafraid to catch whatever this is, and his closeness brings me so much comfort. “Good girl,” he murmurs, before moving his mouth from my forehead. “You’re still really warm.”
He reads the back of the test packaging, ensuring he knows just how to do it and then he opens it. “Rest back on the pillow and close your eyes.”
I do as I’m told, settling in, ignoring the ridiculous fact that even with whatever this mysterious illness is and perhaps the highest fever I’ve ever had, Josh still makes desire pool between my thighs.
“Okay, it only takes a second and then ten minutes to process. It can differentiate between Flu A, B, and COVID,” he tells me. I hear him opening the test swab. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” I mutter.
“Coming in. Please, do not punch me,” he jokes, but he holds down my hands with his opposite hand anyway.
Josh is right, it only takes a second and he is careful as he swirls the swab in each nostril.
“All done,” he says.
I peer at him through slitted eyes and watch him swirl the swab in a solution and squeeze a drop into the testing cassette. Gratefulness blooms in my chest once again, and after he sets the cassette on my nightstand, he sets his cellphone timer for ten minutes.
“Thank you,” I murmur, letting my fingertips just graze his forearm.
“Don’t mention it,” Josh says, his lips twitching. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Um…I don’t really think I would.” I let out a pathetic giggle. “I hate germs.”
Josh mocks offense. “What? You would leave me in here to suffer?” He frowns, folding his arms across his chest.
“I don’t know about suffer.” I drop his hand and tug the blanket up higher. “I’d leave stuff at your door.”
“Pshh,” Josh scoffs. “Some girlfriend you are.”
He looks at me then and our gazes lock. Girlfriend. Neither of us acknowledges it but there’s an emotion written on his face that I can’t read. Embarrassment? Hope? Do people call each other boyfriend/girlfriend at our ages? It hangs in the air between us for what feels like an eternity.
Josh clears his throat just as his phone timer goes off, bringing us back to reality and away from topics we haven’t discussed yet.
“It’s time. The moment of truth.” He leans over and picks up the test, reading it quickly.
“Flu A,” he says, standing. “That’s a relief. Nothing to do but rest and fluids.”
“Okay,” I breathe, suddenly ready to close my eyes.
“Shout for me if you need me, okay?” Josh moves toward the door.
If I wasn’t so unwell, I’d be worried about whatever it is he isn’t saying.
Josh is the type of man who will stay—who will be there even when things are hard.
I can see that now. He had no choice at sixteen, but he does now, and he’s here.
But I can’t escape the feeling that there are things he needs to say.
“You mean you didn’t get me a little bell?” I tease, curling onto my side.
“Ha-ha.” Josh turns back. “If you don’t mind…I’m going to sleep on the couch until you’re better.”
At this, a sadness envelops me, and I have the sudden irrational fear that I am losing him. Tears sting my eyes again. I’m just having a regular old pity party over here.
“Really?” I ask, not even bothering to hide the desperation in my voice.
Josh chuckles. “I’ll be right out there. You can sleep with the door open.” He rests his hand on the door handle. “For now, I want you to sleep.”
I don’t reply—I only sniffle and bat at my eyes that are completely betraying me.
Josh sees it because he moves swiftly back toward me until he’s standing next to me. He plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head. “I’ll be right outside,” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. For now, I allow myself to be reassured by that.
“Sleep now,” Josh says, stroking my hair. And then he’s gone.