12
KING
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It’s very hard seeing Erica so tired. Every now and then I look over to my right at her, the right side of her face resting against the window, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.
She’s shivering even though the night isn’t that cold.
I reach over and flip on the temperature control to warm, turning the dial up a few notches so the air coming through the vents starts to heat up.
My eyes momentarily drift down to her bare knees. She was lying in her bed in that mini dress when I found her. My mind starts going places it shouldn’t.
Looking over at Erica’s thighs again, I feel my heart beating faster. I force my eyes back on the road and keep them there.
When we finally pull up into the parking lot for Erica’s apartment, I turn off the truck. Raising my right hand, I have no idea where to put it, then I rest it on her left shoulder, pushing her slightly to and fro to rouse her awake.
“We’re here,” I tell her quietly in a voice that I think is soft enough not to jar her.
Exiting my truck, I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for her. She stumbles out, but I catch her in time, righting her.
“Sorry,” she says, her eyes barely open.
What’s wrong with her?
I’m concerned.
When we go up and she opens the door, she kicks off her shoes and walks as if half asleep, right through the living room, past the couch, and straight through the open bedroom door, taking a left to head to her bed, I’m guessing.
Stepping inside, I close the apartment door and then head to her tank to feed her two turtles. They eagerly poke their heads above the water to eat the little dried crustacean things I drop in.
Interesting watching them eat, the way they snatch things from the surface.
It would be so horrible if the turtles were big enough to eat humans.
One minute you’re on the surface, and the next you’re being dragged down to the depths by some unseen thing you can’t even fight because its shell is so hard.
Terrifying.
Erica walks back out of her bedroom, passes behind me, then turns left into the nook where the kitchen is and another left into the bathroom.
When she comes out, she stands there looking at me, eyes heavy. “Thank you. Thank you for driving me home.”
“No problem,” I reply, stuffing my hands in my pockets and rolling my shoulders, not knowing what to do except stare at her.
“Good night, King.”
“... Good night, Erica,” I say, watching her head for her room.
When I step toward the apartment door, I look back. “Remember to lock it, okay?” I call out.
“Yep,” she calls from her bedroom.
Walking down the steps of her apartment building back to the first floor, my feet feel heavier than normal.
In the parking lot, in the dark, I hear the gravel crunching under my shoes as I get to my truck. The dome light comes on when I open the door, and all the little sounds of the truck start beeping when I put in my key.
She didn’t look too good.
I can’t bring myself to start the engine and drive away. She’s clearly not feeling well, and I don’t feel good just leaving her like this. I need to make sure she’s okay and that she locked her door.
Turning off the truck completely and pulling the keys out, I head back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Knocking on Erica’s door, I get no answer.
Stepping in, I call, “Erica?”
No answer.
Heading into the bedroom, I see she’s lying under the covers, still in her dress, eyes closed.
“Erica?” I call out softer.
“Hmm?” she mumbles, eyes still closed.
The living room light is still on, and a little bit of light comes in through the big window.
Walking over to the left side of the bed where she’s lying on her right side, I notice she seems to be sleeping again. Putting the back of my hand to her forehead, I find she feels very warm… warmer than usual .
Hot.
Is she sick?
Going to the bathroom, I look through the cupboards at the bottom and then the top over the sink, and find a thermometer. Heading back to her bedroom, I run it across her forehead.
The temperature reads 101.2.
Fever.
I’m so glad I didn’t leave her here.
“Erica? I just took your temperature. You have a fever,” I tell her.
“Mmm.”
“Did you take anything? Any pills? Any more alcohol?” I ask.
“Mmm,” is all she grumbles again.
“Erica? I know you’re not feeling good, but I need you to tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she says sleepily, eyes barely opening.
“Did you take any pills since you got home? Or did you drink any alcohol? I know it wasn’t a lot of time I was downstairs, but… I need to ask.”
“No, I didn’t. I came straight to bed.”
“You went to the bathroom before. You didn’t take anything?” I ask just to make sure.
“No, I didn’t take anything,” she says a little more lucid and awake, even though she still seems weak.
“Okay,” I reply, heading to the bathroom to search for Tylenol.
Thankfully she has acetaminophen. I go through her fridge, notice the OJ, pour a glass, and go back to her room. I give her the Tylenol and then hand her the glass, but hold it for her since she still insists on lying down.
She swallows it and then tries to go back to sleep.
When I take her temperature again, it’s 102.
I don’t like that.
She has all that grime on her from the party, and I know the acetaminophen will work, but it usually goes into effect in near an hour. I don’t want her burning up like this. What’s important is bringing her temperature down.
So I go into the bathroom and start a bath for her with cold water, dropping some ice cubes from her freezer in there for good measure.
When I head back to her bedroom, I gently pull off the covers.
“Hey. We need to bring down your fever,” I tell her quietly.
“I just want to lie down,” she says groggily.
“You can lie down. But it’s important that we get your temperature down first.”
In a weak voice, Erica says, “Hey, can you play my music please?”
“Sure,” I reply as she hands me her phone. “There’s a playlist… a playlist on there.”
Going through the app looking for the playlist, I ask, “What’s it called?”
“It’s the mix with Good Neighbors - Home, the soft version. It’s the first song on there. Makes me relax,” she says.
I set it to that, and the music plays through her speaker device.
“Come on, you got to sit up,” I say.
Erica shivers, her teeth clattering. “I don’t think I need the ice bath. I’m already cold.”
“That’s your brain saying you need to be at a high temperature to fight the fever, so it tricks your body into feeling cold so you can shiver and generate more heat.
I did give you the Tylenol, but as cold as you feel, your temperature is actually really high, so we need to bring it down.
Stop trying to talk your way out of it,” I smirk at her a little playfully.
Taking one more sip of the orange juice, she gives it to me to put on the nightstand.
I position her body so her legs are over the left side of the bed as she sits at the edge of it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says quietly, looking up at me helplessly.
Stepping forward, I give her a subtle smile. “I want to… do it.”
Weakly, with her eyes still heavy, Erica nods.