“You stayed home with me yesterday?” Is it my imagination or does he look uncomfortable at the question?
“Well, I could hardly bring you home with me and then leave you, could I?” Suddenly, images of how I had taken care of him run through my mind. Oh, dear God, surely he hasn’t taken me to the bathroom. I can’t remember anyone ever doing such personal things for me.
“So…was I really out of it? I mean, did you have any trouble…taking care of me?” He gives me an uncomfortable look…is he blushing? Oh, no, it must be worse than I thought if he is embarrassed about something. Even though I’m curious, I don’t want to know. I’d rather believe I woke up from my flu-induced daze to take care of my own business each time it was needed.
He avoids my questions and stands. “I’m going to fix you some breakfast in bed and then catch a shower. I’ll be back soon.” When I hear him in the kitchen, I exit the bed as quickly as possible in my weakened state and use the bathroom. I finger-brush my teeth and consider a shower before deciding to wait until Lucian is gone.
He has nothing but a comb in his bathroom cabinet, and I do my best to pull it through my hair, wincing as it catches on tangles. Looking around the bathroom, I search for something to put my hair up with; hiding the mess is the only answer. I find a roll of dental floss and pull out enough to make a three-ply string. It’s not easy, and my arms are shaking from the effort, but soon I have something that resembles a ponytail on the top of my head. It will have to do until I can find something better.
When I walk back in the bedroom, he is standing beside the bed holding a tray. For a moment, I have an overwhelming urge to cry. People just don’t do things like this for me. It’s surreal, but so sweet I am choked up. Luckily, he blames my glassy eyes on the flu and actually clucks his tongue at me for getting out of bed. Turning away, I crawl back under the covers, pulling them up so he can deposit the tray on my lap. Holding up a phone, he says, “I picked up a charger for your phone yesterday and let it charge overnight. I’ll leave it here in case you need it.” I thank him, touched by how much trouble he had gone through for me. “You might want to call your friend Rose today; she has been blowing the damn thing up. I don’t think she believes me when I say you’re okay.”
“Crap, I’ll do that first thing. She isn’t used to me having…help.” We both decide to let it go at that, knowing full well what I mean. “So,” I say brightly, “the food looks great.” He has made toast, juice, and eggs; it’s the same thing I fed him a few days before.
While I pick up the fork and eat a bit of the eggs, he studies my face and hair. When he touches my ponytail, I try to pull away. “Is that…dental floss?” At my nod, he starts laughing. “Boy, you make use of whatever you have, don’t you? First, a bread tie and now dental floss. Am I going to come home one day to find my underwear in your hair?”
Childishly, I stick my tongue out, which only serves to amuse him further. I watch him as I sip my juice. You would never know he had been sick just a few days prior. “You look like you feel better,” I remark.