12. Sam
sam
. . .
I wake up in darkness, my body aching and my skin burning up.
I twist to the side, and my stomach rolls.
I know what's coming and barely make it to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach from the night before empty into the toilet. Once there’s nothing left, I collapse on the bathroom floor.
My skin feels clammy, and I’m chilled. I just know my hair is a disaster as well, and I want nothing more than to just swish my mouth out with water and crawl back into bed.
My fingers grip the counter, and I pull myself up.
The room sways slightly, and my eyes slam shut, trying to pull myself under control.
When they open again, I can see my face in the mirror: pale with bluish marks under my eyes.
Running a washcloth under the warm water, I wash my face before changing the tap to cold and rinsing my mouth out.
Slowly, I make it back to my room and toss my sleep shirt into the hamper before grabbing a new pair of flannel pants and a cami t-shirt.
I’m freezing, but I know it’s fever chills.
Judging from past experience, I have at least a twenty-four-hour flu bug.
I get one every year at this time, right when the fall turns to winter, and my body is run down with classes, hockey and the stress of the upcoming end of the semester testing as well as the holidays.
It’s the perfect storm, and every year I fall victim to it like clockwork.
I just need to rest. My head hits the pillow at the same time I reach for my phone.
That's when I hear it. The unmistakable chatter of my adorable two-year-old.
Dylan is awake and unlike years past with my aunt around, there is no one to help me.
Feeling panicked, because there is no way I want my baby to catch this too, I swipe the first contact on my phone.
My fingers hover over his name, even though I know he’s the best option.
Jameson is close by, and he would do anything for Dylan, including rescuing her from her mother’s germ-infested apartment.
“Sam?” Jameson’s voice is still heavy with sleep, and I can picture him sitting up in bed, half-naked and taken by surprise.
“Morning,” I croak and feel the start of a hammering headache in my temple. “Um, I hate to bother you so early, but do you think you can come get Dylan and keep her for the day. Maybe the night too?”
There's a rustle on the other end, and I can hear him getting out of bed, already in daddy mode. “Is Dylan okay? Are you okay?”
A ghost of a smile crosses my lips. This man undoes me in the smallest of ways. I love how he’s not even arguing; he just instantly wants to know if we’re alright. “I have the flu.”
He exhales into the phone. “Oh babe. Okay, I’ll be there soon. Is she awake?”
“Yeah,” I answer him. A small sob escapes me, and a single tear falls onto my pillow. I feel overwhelmed, knowing I need to get up while my body aches everywhere and my head is pounding. I still need to take care of my girl.
“I’m leaving now,” Jameson assures me, his voice low and even. Supportive in the way I need and gentle, knowing my head feels like it might explode. “Don’t worry about getting her ready or packing her bag. I’ll do it when I get there.”
“Okay.” I blow out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and my chest relaxes. “Thank you, Jameson.”
“Don’t thank me, Sam. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my girls. I’ll see you soon.” He ends the call and I place my phone on the nightstand again.
He’s on his way. Everything is going to be okay.
Deep in my heart and soul, I know it will be too.
Jameson has steadily been proving for the last three weeks that he wants to be a constant in our lives, and I don’t even mind.
We’ve had multiple breakfasts and dinners on our drop -off days, continuing to spend time together as a family.
I even showed him around the workout facility and we’ve worked out once together.
I look forward to all of these interactions.
There is nothing better though than seeing Jameson and Dylan together, and the love he has for her.
Sometimes I catch him watching me too, but I’m too scared to be hopeful.
I’m not sure we can come back from our past, but I do love the present we’re building.
I love that he continues to take Dylan to my games, and I’ve even ventured to the new garage where we had a family movie night together.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting the first time I saw the apartment above the garage, but it blew my expectations out of the water.
The space is huge, and surprisingly cozy.
The walls are thick and painted in warm neutral browns and tans.
Jameson has pictures of Dylan covering the hallway walls and a giant canvas of her in the living room.
The kitchen, her toy nook, and even her room are filled with books, toys and art projects.
It’s perfect, and I surprised myself when I didn’t want to leave them at the end of the night.
“Momma. Mommy!” Dylan’s little voice gets louder in her room, letting me know she’s fully awake now and ready to get up.
This time when I roll to the side, my stomach doesn’t turn, but I still feel slightly dizzy and need to take a few deep breaths before standing.
My feet shuffle out of the room and down the short hallway to Dylan’s room.
I peek in and see that she is standing in her crib, her thoughtful brown eyes watching me over the edge.
“Good morning, sweet girl,” I say to her and watch as a smile tugs at her lips. She looks slightly tousled from sleep. I wish more than anything that I could cuddle her right now. “Daddy is going to come and get you. You get to have fun with daddy today!”
Her face lights up and her little hands clap together.
I’m torn between wanting to go to her, and also feeling guilty if I pass along this virus.
Dylan babbles to me, and I catch most of her words.
Daddy. Pancake. Baby (her doll). Outside.
Of course she wants to go outside, who cares that it’s November and a light snow is covering the ground already with subzero temps.
Dyl loves to see the snow, and she wants to learn to skate.
Somehow, I manage to keep her entertained for ten minutes just talking to her, but I can tell she’s just about had enough. I’m just about to cave and pick her up when I hear the lock disengage on the door.
“Sam!” I hear my name called and I shoot Dylan another smile. She heard her dad’s voice as well.
“Daddy!”
Jameson walks down the hall and stops when he gets to me, his hand resting on my hip. He leans forward, his lips gently touching my forehead. “You’re burning up. Go back to bed and once I get her changed, I’ll bring you some medicine.”
My throat fills thick with emotion and all I can do is nod my head.
Moving past him, I slink back into my room and crawl into bed.
The cool sheets feel great on my skin, but my teeth start chattering instantly.
I burrow under the covers, squeezing my eyes shut.
Time moves fast or slow, and I’m in and out.
Faintly, I can hear Jameson changing and dressing Dylan.
He brings her to the living room and turns the television on before he’s suddenly back in my room and holding out medicine tablets to me.
“Sammy, you need to try and take these.”
I grab the little pills from his hand and place them on my tongue. He hands me water next and I swallow them down. I wait for my stomach to rebel, but nothing happens. I’m still nauseous, but I don’t get sick again. Jameson leaves and I feel myself starting to slip into sleep.
“Babe, I brought you some crackers, Gatorade and some water. When you wake up, try and eat a little something.” He gently brushes my shoulder and I nod against the pillow. I hear his faint laugh and lean into his touch when his fingers brush the hair off my cheek and neck.
“No trying to catch my germs this time, Kane,” I warn him, my voice sounding slurred by sleep. Jameson stiffens, his hand stilling on my shoulder.
“You remember that?” he asks, his voice deep and warm.
My head nods against the pillow. I was sick like this my junior year. We had been officially a couple for a year, and Jameson was so upset when I was sick. He didn’t want to leave my side and was purposefully trying to get sick himself so we could be together.
He chuckles and the sound is warm and soothing around me. “I’m going to take Dylan out for a little while so it’s quiet.”
“Thank you,” I mumble again, wanting to convey how much this means to me, but I’m so tired.
“Don’t thank me for taking care of you, Sam,” he whispers, and I feel his lips touch my hair, and my covers are brought up to my chin.
Knowing that Dylan is cared for and safe, and with my room dark and surrounded by cozy blankets, I finally pass out again, dead to the world.
A noise wakes me a little while later. The room is darker than before, and one look at my phone tells me it's early afternoon. I manage to sit up, and my gaze focuses on the assortment of items Jameson left on my nightstand. My hand reaches for the next dosage of medicine and the Gatorade, grape, my favorite flavor. Once that goes down and I don’t feel the instant urge to vomit, I nibble on the crackers.
I manage to eat four of them before feeling content.
The room is quiet, and I don’t notice any noise from beyond my bedroom.
Cautiously, I get up and make my way to the bathroom.
My sleep cami is slightly damp, and I realize I must have sweat out my fever.
After using the toilet, washing my hands and splashing some water on my now rosy cheeks, I make my way back to the bed.
One more cracker and some water, and I manage to fall back asleep.