The knock at her door caused Claire to jump. The jolt intensified the nausea, propelling more beads of perspiration to adorn her skin. “Come in.” She managed as her face contorted in pain, and she concentrated once again on breathing.
Claire didn’t turn her head to see her roommate enter. Nevertheless, she heard the door open and Amber’s footsteps approaching the alarm.
“What the heck? It’s Saturday morning. Why do you have a damn alarm...?” As Amber turned from the now silenced clock, she beheld her roommate’s ashened, perspiration drenched complexion, and her tone mellowed, “Claire, what’s the matter?”
Claire didn’t speak, but gently shook her head from side to side. The movement was too much. Gathering strength Claire reached for her blankets, threw them back, jumped from the bed, and ran to her bathroom.
It had been a long time since Claire Nichols had been physically sick. The last time she remembered vomiting was when she learned of Simon’s death, which seemed ironic, now that she was living in Amber’s home. The heaves came in waves.
Amber stood supportingly holding Claire’s long auburn hair away from her face, as Claire rested her heavy head on trembling arms and waited for the next upsurge. When it came, Amber remained quiet while Claire’s body racked with convulsions. Even after the contents of Claire’s stomach were gone, the heaving continued.
In time, the lull between occurrences lengthened. Finally, her body stilled, leaving only a weakened and shivering Claire.
Amber helped her roommate sit on the closed lavatory lid, wetted a washcloth with cool water, handed it to Claire, and directed her to wipe her face. Next, Amber helped Claire to the sink where she repeatedly rinsed her mouth with water. After Amber helped Claire back to bed, Claire closed her eyes and prayed that whatever this was, it was over.
“It could be food poisoning.” Amber offered, after Claire’s color returned and her breathing normalized. “Maybe you ate something at the gala last night. I wonder if anyone else is having problems. ”
Claire nodded her head. Her strength was returning, little by little. “You’re probably right. With as bad as last night was, food poisoning would be a highlight.” She grasped the hand of the woman now sitting on the side of her bed. “Amber, we need to talk about last night.”
Amber visibly bristled and regrouped. “We do,” her tone was comforting not harsh, as it had been when she entered the room about the alarm, “but, not right now. Can I get you something? Maybe some toast? It could help settle your stomach.”
“What time is it?” Claire asked, panic threatening to disrupt her current non-vomiting state.
“It’s a quarter ’til eight. Why did you have that alarm set anyway?” Amber asked as she replaced the cloth on Claire’s forehead with a fresh cool compress.
“I have to meet someone at ten.”
“Well, I think you’re rescheduling.”
Closing her eyes she assessed her current state and said, “I can’t.” She was truly feeling better. Hopefully the offending food was gone. She wondered, could Tony possibly be sick too? A weak smile floated across her face. She responded, “I’ll take that toast, if you don’t mind.”
Amber stood, “Sure thing. Do you need anything else?”
“A glass of water?”
Amber squeezed Claire’s hand and replied, “Coming right up.”
Once she was gone, Claire reached for her phone. When she completed the task requiring movement successfully, Claire reassured herself she was definitely feeling better. If the toast stayed down, she was good to go.
Claire needed to text Tony a meeting location. She wondered where she wanted to meet him. Her first thought was nowhere. But, that was unacceptable. She remembered a cute cafe in Redwood Shores. It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t Palo Alto. She Googled the cafe and forwarded the information to Tony, with a text:
I MIGHT BE LATE. HAD AN ISSUE THIS MORNING. THINGS ARE IMPROVING.
Claire knew he wouldn’t be happy about her possible tardiness. Nonetheless, remembering the overwhelming sickness, she decided Tony’s darkening gaze ranked below projectile vomiting and keeping Amber’s toast down on her current list of concerns.
Covering her now cold body with blankets, Claire felt her stomach growl. How could she possibly be hungry after what she’d just experienced?
AT 9:51 AM Claire eased her Honda Accord into the parking lot of the Patio Cafe in Redwood Shores. She wasn’t late. Her reflection in the rearview mirror frowned back through the glass. Even the blush and lipstick didn’t disguise her pallor. On the bright side, she’d kept Amber’s toast down, plus a banana. And despite the paleness, she really did feel better.