At this moment, I’m wrapped up in some blankets with my head slightly leaned upward. I’m fighting the urge to go into this coughing fit once more. I have a cool cloth on my head, but my temperature is still much too high I’m sure. My head hurts, but I’m trying to ignore that while I watch some old sitcom marathon on TV.
My sprawled and long hair, well, a little past my shoulders and curly, has been placed up over the couch, so that my neck will cool down. Despite the heated and flushed feeling I have, my hands are very cold.
I left the office a good four hours ago, much earlier than usual. As I’m sure you realize, I’m sick.
Not in the life and death kind of sick, but sick none the less. It struck me like lightning. I was feeling fine this morning. Really good when I woke up, got out of bed, left my snoring husband there and made myself some breakfast. I had gotten up early, I had felt fresh and was even considering going out for a walk.
Unfortunately by the time I ate breakfast and my spouse woke up, time kind of got ahead of me. To the store, get gas, wash our clothes, see him off to work and then get ready myself.
It’s my daily routine and I get that that’s the marriage life. But still, it’s a Saturday. Aren’t we supposed to do something fun on days like these? Build those lasting memories the really old people talk about that took place back when they were young people?
He and I get off around the same time on Saturdays, and we are young people. So why is it, that almost like every weekend, something gets in the way? Family visits, house troubles, car payments, working an extra shift and now sickness.
The remote is in my left hand and without glancing at the button I turn the channel to the weather, tired of sitcoms. I fail to see the humor right now.
Like I said, I became sick instantly. I don’t know how it happened. I was fine this morning, answering some calls and typing away some insurance information into the computer – which by the way, I’m one of the greatest employees there and I can type faster than anyone I know – when I suddenly was hit with a sharp ache in my head. I thought it’d go away and pass soon.
I ended up requesting the rest of the day off. Fortunately I don’t take many sick days.
My throat is killing me, like it's on fire. I know the pool of sweat that’s building up on the couch is making me smell fantastic. To top it all off this terrible headache hasn’t gone away yet and it’s been hours. I’ve been waiting for the aspirin to kick in.
Sighing, I have to wonder how long this is going to be a trouble for me.
I hear the front door unlock. In my quiet, dark room my eyes have grown adjusted to the darkness. But now with him hom-
A light from the kitchen turns on and I wince as the pain in my head increases.
“Hey,” he says quietly, walking into our small living room.
“Hey,” I reply without turning to look at him.
“Feeling any better?”
“No. I’ve just been sitting here. Got a headache and a sore throat.” I turn down the TV, but I don’t mute it.
“Did you take some Advil? That works fast.”
“Yeah. It’s still killing me.”
“Alright,” he says nonchalantly and removes his light jacket. It’s stiff looking and I can see from his shaky hands that it’s freezing outside. He walks back into the kitchen.
It’s been a few months since we’ve gone out and that we did something together, really together where we could go out for lunch, or take a stroll down at the park, like we used to. But I just don’t get what’s been going on. Boredom maybe or just we’ve run out of things to do. Maybe we have too much time together or not enough time. Sometimes I long to be with him, but other times, like now, I wish he’d just go away.
Especially now. He’s moving pots and pans in the kitchen. Every clang and clink sends a ricocheting bullet to the brain. I place my hand to my head and squint.
“Dear!” I shout a little too loudly for our small apartment. A pause of the noise, and I pause myself. Calm voice first. “What are you doing in there? If it’s the dishes I’ll do them tomorrow, alright?”
“Is there anything to eat in the fridge?” he replies, which somehow completely dodges my silent plea for silence. He doesn’t eat at work, so it’s understandable he’s hungry when he gets home.
“Ah, no I don’t think there’s much in there to eat.” Because I couldn’t cook anything, I’m sick.
And that’s all I get from him. Thankfully it goes quiet in the kitchen and though the light is still on in there, I’ve gotten used to it.
It’s only a few minutes later that I hear the sizzling of something being cooked, though I can’t smell anything like bacon or ham. My head is pounding once more, and I close my eyes trying to ignoring the Weather Announcement, something about a forty percent chance of snow tomorrow.
It’s not like I don’t love him. I love him. More than I feel like I do sometimes, I’ll admit. But I think that’s kinda the humor of it all. The thing about the ups and downs of being with someone for the rest of your life is that there are downs. And for today - and all of last week I’m just going to add because I feel horrible right now - it’s been downs.
I notice the digital clock on our DVR Player, and it says nine. I realize he was late coming home.
It’s about a few more minutes before he comes back into the living room. I’m not sure what he wants, but if it’s to watch TV, I swear I’m getting up and heading to bed. I should have gone to bed hours ago, but I decided to stay up.
And oddly I think it was for him, subconsciously waiting for him to get home. I almost laugh aloud at the thought. I’m too good to him sometimes.
It’s only when I feel a pressure on the armrest of the couch that I turn to see what he’s doing.
Knees on the carpet, the man is leaning over the armrest, holding out a coffee cup in his hands.
He was boiling water, I realize. I don’t say anything, but I look in the cup to find a murky and light brown liquid steaming inside. Casually he moves it closer to me, prompting me to take it. I lift my head to look up at him as the damp hand towel falls off and on to the blankets. He’s staring at me with those big eyes of his, a small smile on his face that has a simple “here, please take this” look to it.
Wrapping my cool fingers around the cup, I strangely, like I’ve only now just met him and not lived with him for the past six years, feel shy and avoid his stare. I know he continues to watch me.
The cup feels warm in my cold hands.
I take a sip, and taste the hint of lemon and honey in this green tea. I’m sure we didn’t have any lemon in the fridge, and I know we have no honey. He must have picked some up on the way home. It tastes good and it’s the way I like it; the best way he can make it.
I turn to look at him now, and I have a small smile on my face too. Yes. I am very grateful.
He’s still leaned forward, eyes shifting from the cup to my face, trying to see if it helped me at all, and I love how he doesn’t know it has, in its own way.
I lean forward myself, moving out from the blankets and slowly place my lips to his forehead. We remain like that, still for a moment.
“Thanks,” I tell him in a softer voice.
His eyes are closed, but he doesn’t simply stay there for long and slowly rises, reopening them. Now I kind of wish he would stay.
“Yeah, of course,” he replies, with that edge of concern that I can hear in his voice. It was there before, maybe I wasn’t listening. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be right back.”
It's not too eventful, nor too important. But I'll remember this moment. It's a memory I think I want to keep.
Simply, I nod and he walks back into the kitchen, not too far way. I take another sip of my hot tea before slipping deeper into the couch and blankets, suddenly a little tired and feeling a little better.
Alright don't ask me why I decided to write this. It's a one shot, and yeah it's spring time. I'm feeling a little lovey.
In all seriousness I've never written a "love story" before, if that's what this is even called. The story for me, is about trusting in someone even when they become a little too familiar to you; that they are still your friend. I also listened to Billy Joel's Just The Way You Are a few times.
And while I feel like a more romantic relationship isn't fit for Bionicle, I've wondered how I'd do toward a personal in real life story where personal relationships are much more meaningful and necessary. So yeah. lol Anyway, if you've gotten this far, why not leave a comment? Much appreciated. ^^
Edited by Quote (Mr. Traveler), Oct 27 2012 - 10:00 AM.