14. Flick
Flick
I’m halfway through an email about an upcoming order when a wave of nausea hits. Pausing, I take a seat on an overturned bucket and wait for it to pass.
It does... but then another one arrives.
“Ugh. No.” I put my phone down and try to think back to this morning. Did I take my stomach protectant with my steroid dose?
I was feeding Cat... Then I grabbed my oatmeal... Took the steroid... Then Cat got herself stuck under the couch, so I had to rescue her... And I was going to go back for the stomach protectant... But that’s when my phone rang, and...
Damn it. I didn’t take it after all. Which means the ride back to Pine Island will be hell.
Unexpectedly, tears prick my eyes. This afternoon was going so perfectly. And now, all because I’ve forgotten to take one little pill, it’s turning into a mess. What was supposed to be a romantic drive back with Sebastian will probably end in me trying not to vomit in his car.
And how will I finish the day’s work once I get home? It’ll be hard to do anything other than lie in bed and suck on some ginger candies.
Tears run down my cheeks, hot and aggressive. It’s not just about today, though. It feels like all the frustration I’ve kept bottled up since learning about the pericarditis is finally coming to the surface. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I just?—
My phone beeps with a text. Welcoming the distraction, I pick it back up. It’s a message from Hannah.
Checking in, hope you’re okay.
It’s the nudge that sends me over the edge. A sob racks my body, and I bury my face in my hands. For a minute, I just let myself cry. Let myself feel it all.
And then, sitting up straight, I dry my face and start a long, overdue text.
I tell Hannah all about the pericarditis, the steroids, feeling nauseous, and not wanting to tell her about all of this because I don’t want it made into a big deal.
I’m still halfway through spilling it all when I hear a soft meow.
An orange-striped cat peeks into the stable and studies me.
“Hey there.” Text unfinished, I put the phone down and hold my hand out to the cat. “Kitty, kitty.”
With zero hesitation, it trots into the stable and jumps right into my lap. Laughing with surprise, I scratch its head.
“What’s your name? Do you have a home?”
The cat purrs and makes biscuits on my thighs. He’s like a guardian angel that’s swooped in exactly when I needed him.
“Do you live here, buddy?”
He leans into my touch, and I chuckle. Apparently, I’m a cat person now because they just seem to be dropping into my life left and right.
“Looks like you made a friend.” Sebastian stands in the doorway, watching me and the cat.
“It wasn’t much of a choice.”
He smiles at us, but there’s undeniable tension in his face.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Before he can answer, Lil appears behind him. “Oh, that cat. Of course he found you. He’s always hanging around.”
“He’s not yours?” I move the scratches to his side.
“A stray. Keeps coming back.” She pulls out her phone and texts while talking. “Seems to like you, though. You should take him.”
“Oh, I...” I shake my head. I already have one cat at my condo that I’m trying to find a home for. And yet... This guy is so sweet. I can’t just leave him here.
“We’ll take him,” Sebastian says.
I raise my eyebrows at him. “We will?”
“He can be our office cat.” Sebastian comes over and scratches the cat by its tail. The little critter arches its back in pleasure. “Our last one died months ago from old age. We need a kitty to sit in the window and judge all the dogs that come in. This guy would be perfect.”
Warmth spreads through me, and Sebastian and I lock eyes. He always has the right answer at the right time, and I wonder if he can read in my face how grateful I am for that.
“I can hold him in my lap in the car,” I say, hoping this cat rides well and I don’t end the journey with scratches all over my face.
“No need. I have a carrier in the back.”
“Of course you do.” Taking the cat in my arms, I stand, sliding my phone into my pocket. He purrs even louder.
“Remember,” Lil says as she walks off, “I’ve got to make a move next week.”
Sebastian doesn’t respond, but his mood dampens considerably.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“She wants the money sooner.” His shoulders tense. “I’ll figure it out. Come on. Let’s get this little guy to his new home.”
“I think he’ll make a great office cat.” I nuzzle my face against the cat’s furry one as we walk back to Sebastian’s car.
“What are you going to call him?”
I guffaw. “You’re leaving me to name him? Do you not remember that I named my cat ‘Cat’?”
Sebastian grins. “You just called her your cat.”
“I... If—when we find the right home for her, then she’ll go. Until then, yeah—okay, she kind of is my cat. My foster cat.”
“You foster cats now?” Laughing, he opens the car trunk and pulls out a small carrier.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Keep laughing, buddy. You’re the one who got me into all of this.”
“And I’m not sorry one bit.” Taking the cat from my arms, he gently places it in the carrier. The animal mews in protest but then thankfully settles once we’re bumping back down the driveway.
Unfortunately, being on the road full of potholes does nothing for my nausea. I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable, aware of Sebastian’s curious gaze.
“You okay? Is it the arthritis?”
“No, it’s...” I hesitate. I didn’t even send the text I wrote to Hannah about the pericarditis.
And now that my moment of weakness is over, I feel the familiar walls coming back up. There’s no reason to worry anyone, no reason to get them more involved than they need to be.
“I’ve been taking a stomach protectant with my regular meds,” I say, “and I forgot to take it this morning, so I’m nauseous.”
The way his face folds in worry both touches and annoys me. Yes, I want to be cared about, but I also don’t want to be a burden or be seen as less capable because of my health.
“It’s fine. I’ll be okay.”
“Lean your seat back and rest.” He turns his blinker on and drives into a gas station. “I’ll be right back.”
He pops out of the car, and the cat starts meowing again.
“It’s okay,” I tell the cat. “He won’t be gone long... I think,” I add, realizing Sebastian didn’t even tell me why we’re stopping.
Another wave of nausea hits, and I lie on my side on the seat, waiting for it to pass and trying not to feel sorry for myself. Picking up my phone, I reread the draft of the text to Hannah.
And then delete it and settle for this instead:
Thinking of you too. Hope you’re doing well.
Blowing out a breath that makes my lips vibrate, I put the phone away. That’s good. That was the best response. I’m sure of it.
The car door opens, and Sebastian hops into his seat. “Here you go.” He hands me a filled hot water bottle, heated up. “And I got you ginger ale with real ginger and some crackers.”
I stare at him. “They had a hot water bottle?”
“It’s a country store.” He grins. “They kind of have everything.”
I accept the hot water bottle, a flurry of emotions taking over. He didn’t even wait for me to ask for help; he just acted. Right away. Without any hesitation.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks.
Sebastian’s gaze holds mine. “Of course,” he says softly.
He cups my cheek, a sweetness passing across the touch. “Need anything else?”
“No. This is perfect.” I crack open the ginger ale and take a careful sip.
“Try to rest.” Taking a jacket from the back seat, he drapes it over me. “If you can, with the cat meowing.”
“He’ll quiet down once we’re driving.” I start to laugh, but the nausea stops me in my tracks.
Sebastian pulls back onto the road, and the steady purr of the engine combined with the fresh air coming through the cracked window soothes my senses. Resting on my side with my hands tucked under my cheek, I let my eyes close, knowing that everything is all right. I’m safe. I’m perfectly fine.
I’m exactly where I need to be.
Sleep doesn’t come easy, though. The nausea gets worse with each mile we cover, and a couple times, I almost tell Sebastian to pull over so I can vomit. I manage to keep it together, but by the time we’re parking in front of my condo, I just want to curl up into a tiny ball.
Sebastian walks next to me, holding out his hand. “Do you need help walking?” he asks.
Through the discomfort, I somehow work up a grateful smile. “No, thank you.”
He opens the door. “What can I set up for you?”
“Uh...” I lean against the doorframe.
For some reason, I feel uncomfortable asking him to do anything else. Maybe because I’m so used to taking care of myself that having someone else step in makes me feel vulnerable. It reminds me that I’m not doing as well as I try to convince myself I am.
“Flick?” His eyebrows knit in concern. “Go lie down. I’ll take care of anything you need.”
I bite my lip, wanting to tell him no, it’s fine. He can leave now, and I’ll talk to him later. The very thought of doing all the walking it takes in order to get myself set up is enough to make me cry, though.
“You could make me some ginger tea,” I say, though I’m not sure that will be of any help in this situation. “And feed Cat.”
“Are you having a flare?”
I avoid his eyes. “No, it’s just...the nausea.”
“Okay. You go get settled.” He closes the door behind me, and I begin the arduous journey to my bedroom.
Tears pricking my eyes, I take off my shoes and ease myself into bed. Sebastian’s kindness on the drive over here was perfect, but now that I’m home, it feels overwhelming. I just want to hide in my little cave until I feel good enough to reemerge.
He enters the bedroom, arms full of supplies. Ice pack, tea, water bottle, and ginger ale. “I thought I’d bring you every drink possible.” He grins, trying to make light of the situation.
“Those are good. Thanks.”
“I’ll get your heating pad too, just in case.”
I grunt in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”