23. Bradley
Bradley
I ’m fucking dying. If this is what a slow, agonizing death feels like, then I want to be killed swiftly.
I’ve been on the bathroom floor for the last hour.
Every time I try to leave another wave of nausea takes over.
And it’s not just that, it’s diarrhea too.
Fucking embarrassing as hell. Here I am supposed to be helping Malcolm, and he’s off trying to find a pharmacy to get me some medicine.
He wanted to take me to the hospital but I shut that down quickly.
I told him it wasn’t that bad, but really I didn’t want him to know I didn’t have health insurance, nor the money to pay the bill.
I shift my body, moving from my bruised knees to my ass, one hand gripping the base of the toilet, as the other trembles as it wipes a wet washcloth across my clammy forehead.
Another wave of nausea hits me, violent and unforgiving, and I barely have time to take a breath before my body lurches forward, retching until there is nothing left but acid and air.
“Kill me now.” I groan, wiping at my mouth.
The taste of bile coats my tongue, bitter and metallic. My throat burns, raw from the constant regurgitation, and my breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. Sweat clings to me, soaking the back of my neck, my shirt sticking to my skin.
Every muscle in my body aches and my limbs feel like wet sandbags. My stomach keeps clenching in protest, even though there’s nothing left to give.
Why now? Why today, of all days, when everything has started so good? I was planning to have an amazing night, continuing what Malcolm and I started this morning. Then shit hit the fan and my body decided to revolt against me.
Maybe it was something I ate. Malcolm’s okay, but he had a salad where I didn’t. Was the chicken bad? Or did I suddenly develop an allergy to something? Could it be the flu, or something worse?
The timing sucks.
It’s disgusting, but I don’t care. I lean my cheek against the seat of the toilet, letting the cool porcelain hit my face.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure if the gods of puking are listening. “Just stop. I’ve had enough.”
But the response I get isn’t what I want. Another wave of nausea.
Once I feel like everything is out, I pull a towel from the shelf under the sink and lay it on the floor, making myself a pseudo bed. I hear the door open, but I don’t budge.
“Bradley,” Malcolm calls, and I grunt in response. He steps into the bathroom, bags in hand, and kneels beside me. “Let me help you get up, changed and in bed.”
“No,” I tell him, swatting away his hand. “Just let me die here.”
He sets the bags on the floor before taking my arms, easing me up, until I’m standing.
“I’m just going to be back in here in like three minutes.”
“Nonsense. I got you some medicine. Paige just happens to be a PA, and I got her to send a prescription to the pharmacy for some nausea medicine. That’s what took me so long, I was waiting for them to fill it.”
“You told her about me?” I ask, my voice weak as he sits me down on the edge of the bed, helping me to undress.
“No,” he murmurs. “I told her it was for me.”
Another wave hits me, but it’s not nausea. This is worse. His ex-wife knows he’s gay, and he still couldn’t tell her about me. Of course not, I’m just the hired date. The one helping him to get back the love of his life, and then I’ll be nothing more than an afterthought.
“Okay, just get under the blanket and let me get the medicine. I also got you some Gatorade, but just take sips of it.” He rushes off, not even noticing how his rejection affected me. Yes, he’s taking care of me, but is he only doing it because there’s nowhere else for me to go?
He sits down on the edge of the bed just as I pull the blanket up.
“Here, just put it on your tongue and let it dissolve.” Malcolm hands me a pill and I do as he says, making a face at the taste.
“Now take a sip.” He hands the open bottle to me and I lift it to my lips, letting the cold fluid hit my tongue, soothing my sore throat.
Malcolm places the lid back on the bottle, setting it on the nightstand.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I have a cold washcloth for your head. Just lay down and get some rest. I’m going to turn out the lights.”
I do as he says and my eyes are barely closed before I finally drift off to sleep.
Malcolm
My heart aches seeing him in pain. A perfect day turned horrible. I keep checking on him, knowing that if he gets worse, I’m taking him straight to the hospital.
Calling Paige for the prescription was easy.
Telling her about Bradley was a little harder.
I promised to tell her everything when I got home, and she finally relented.
How do I tell my ex-wife I hired someone to help me get over my insecurities to win back my ex, but now I’m developing feelings for him too?
But this isn’t a world where I can have my cake and eat it too.
Jefferson made that perfectly clear when he broke up with me.
Was I going to tell him about Bradley? Of course. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I’m just not sure how he’s going to react to the news. About me having feelings now for both of them. I’ve not known Bradley long, but I can’t explain this sudden attraction.
My phone glares at me from my lap. Taking another glance at Bradley I see he’s fast asleep. It’s time to push myself to do what I need to.
Opening my messages, I create a group chat with the kids, my parents and Paige.
Me: I have something I need to tell all of you and I was hoping we could meet for dinner tomorrow night at my apartment. How does 6 sound?
My parents are older, but because of the kids they’ve become very familiar with texting, so I knew they would answer. I was also expecting the private message from Paige.
Paige: Are you really fucking doing it tomorrow?
Me: Yeah. It’s time.
Paige: 6. Ok then I’ll be there at 5 so you can tell me about the secrecy for the prescription since you’re obviously not sick.
Me: I promise to tell you everything.
Paige: I need to go, but I’m proud of you. It’s time.
My parents and the kids all respond they’ll be there. They have questions, but I just tell them it’s not bad news. Just something I want to say in person. Not bad? Will they think that?
Then I click on my message thread with Jefferson. Still nothing. I want to groan, kick my legs and throw a tantrum, but I don’t.
Then I try again. He needs to know I’m serious.
Me: I know you saw the last message and chose not to answer. I just want you to know that I’m fighting for us. That I love you.
Then I see tiny bubbles dancing on the screen. It seems like forever, then they disappear. But no message ever comes.
My heart drops.
Me: I’m telling my family tomorrow night at 6. I’m not hiding anymore.
Me: I love you Jefferson and I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m willing to own up to them.
Me: Our lives were very different. You had a family who supported you no matter what. I didn’t. But tomorrow, whether they accept me or not, I’m finally telling them.
Me: Then I’m going to win you back. So be ready.
I don’t wait to see if he replies. If the little dots on the screen dance or if he reads the message only to ignore it.
Turning off my phone, I plug it into the charger, then get out of bed, and head to the bathroom. I take a quick shower, change into pajamas and brush my teeth. Tomorrow is a new day and I’m ready to meet it head on and come out a better person on the other side.
I don’t know what time it is when I feel the mattress shift, and a draft catches my back. Rubbing the heel of my palm against my eyes I try to wake up. Looking over I see Bradley’s gone, and I hear water running in the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” I call to him, my voice still husky with sleep.
“Yeah. Just needed to use the bathroom.” he whispers, coming back into the room, getting back in bed.
He rolls into my arm, resting his head on my chest as I gently stroke my fingers across his back, soothing him.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes. No. I swear it feels like I’m dying.” He lets out a sigh, and his hot breath dances along my skin. “I’m sorry I ruined our day.”
“Don’t.” I tell him. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’re sick. And I’m happy I was here to take care of you. Especially, after all the help you’ve given me.”
“Yeah, but we had so much we were going to do today so that you’d be ready to tell your family.”
Ready. I don’t think I ever will be. And that’s what both Bradley and Jefferson have been trying to tell me. There’s never a good time, but I can’t go on living hoping for something. I need to make this happen. To own who I am.
“Ready or not, I am. I can’t live like this any longer. Hiding who I am. Who I love.” I kiss the top of his head, as his arm slips across my stomach, curling around my waist.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” he whispers before I hear his silent snores.
The only problem I have now is what happens if Jefferson takes me back. Where does it leave what’s happening with Bradley?
But that’s a worry for tomorrow.