With my little slice of cake, I curled up on the couch and made it through half the first season of Supernatural before passing out at an embarrassingly early hour.
I woke up somewhere between four and five in the morning, feeling like fog had invaded my brain. Pushing myself into a sitting position, I winced at the vicious throbbing in my temples. Thinking it was from sleeping on the couch in an awkward position, I stood.
“Whoa.” I pressed my palm to my forehead as the room did a tilt-a-whirl. My skin felt hot. Was I sweating?
I started toward my bedroom to change, but only made it halfway before I veered off to the bathroom.
“Oh God,” I gasped out.
Cramps seized my stomach and I dropped to my knees, lifting the lid on the toilet. The ice cream cake and everything else I ate that day came up, quick and fast. It was impressive and it didn’t stop for hours. As soon as it seemed like it had eased out, I leaned back against the tub, resting my cheek on the cool surface. That felt good, but the calm feeling didn’t last long. My tummy clenched and I’d barely reached the toilet in time.
It was official.
God had done the whole ‘I smite thee’ by striking me down was a nasty case of the influenza virus. How had I caught it? Did that matter? Hell no. Nothing mattered as I lay on the cool tile floor, my cheek smashed and mostly likely now carrying the pattern of the floor. There was no concept of how much time had passed. I knew I needed medicine, something from the store. Yes, the store would be a good idea. Chicken soup. TheraFlu. Pepto…
Stumbling to my feet, I shuffled back into the living room. The walls seemed funny to me, fuzzy and a little warped, like they were waving to me. After a minor adventure, I found my purse and keys and made it to the front door. Just as I unlocked it, I felt the ominous stirring in my stomach.
I dropped my purse and keys and spun. The walls danced. Not good. I made it a couple of steps and my legs did the strangest thing. They just stopped working. Done. Nothing. I cracked them off the floor, but really didn’t feel it. Crawling toward the kitchen, because I had enough sense left to not want to do this on the carpet, I made it to the sink. I hauled myself up and leaning over the sink, my stomach heaved until tears leaked down my cheeks.
Oh man, this sucked.
Finally, when the storm seemed to have passed, I slid down, leaning back against the cabinets under the sink. Okay. The store was out of the question. So was bed. I’m not sure if I stretched out or sort of fell over, but I was back against the cool floor again. At least the kitchen floor had more space.
A deep ache settled into my muscles and bones. My head throbbed so badly it hurt to open my eyes or to concentrate on anything other than the fact it hurt. It felt like someone had shoved a wool brush down my throat. My brain felt like it was trying to run through muddy waters. Nothing really made sense to me. I heard the phone chirping from somewhere and then sometime later, it rang and rang… and it rang. I wondered if it was my parents. Maybe they remembered that yesterday was my birthday.
I think I might’ve fallen asleep, because there was a banging that sounded far, far away. And I thought I heard my living room door open. I was to the point that I didn’t care if it was a mass murderer. I’d welcome anyone willing to put me out of my misery.
“Avery?” There was a pause and then a, “Oh, my God.”
The murderer knew my name and was the praying type? Lovely.
Cool hands touched my forehead. “Avery, oh my God, are you okay?”
The murderer sort of sounded like Brit, so it was obviously not a murderer. I forced my eyes open into thin slits. Her face blurred together for a second. Worry etched into her features and then her face warbled.
“Flu,” I mumbled. “I have the flu…”
“So that’s why it smells like there was a vomit party in here.”
I winced. “Ugh.”
“Yes, ugh, all of this is ugh.”
I heard something drop on the floor and then the cool hands were gone. My fridge door opened and wonderful, beautiful, cold air washed over the floor and me. I was in heaven, freaking heaven.
The door shut and Brit returned, water in hand. “You need to drink water. Come on, help me help you sit up.”
Mumbling under my breath, I got my hands on the floor but my arms felt too weak. She got an arm around me and had me leaning against the cabinet. A water bottle appeared by my dry lips.
“No.” I tried to knock her away, but I couldn’t lift my arms. “You… get… flu…”