I sip my iced tea, thinking of how to answer Lauren’s question. I don’t know how things are going with Aubrey. We have good conversation, she smiles and seems happy. Together, we put Claire to bed every night. But then she steps from Claire’s room, mumbles good night, and practically runs to her room. It’s as if she’s reached max capacity and mightimplode.
“She seems happy, but I wonder if it’s a front for Claire.” The guilt I’ve been fighting creeps in. “I insisted she move in. I was so sure it was the right choice for Claire, but I didn’t think much aboutAubrey.”
“Aubrey is an adult. She made the choice she thought wasbest.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, not because I agree but because it’s easier not to argue with her. I check my watch under the table. Our food needs to arrivesoon.
“Isaac, seriously.” Lauren’s voice is insistent. “Aubrey’s a big girl. She’s not anywhere she doesn’t want to be.” Her look is stern, eyebrows drawn together and chin cocked a few degrees to the left. It’s the look my mother has given us a million times. I won’t tell her that now, though. I knowbetter.
Lunch comes to the table, and I eat like I haven’t seen food in three days. I refuse to think about Aubrey any longer. For my sanity, and for the sake of my next patient, I need to start clearing mymind.
Why?
Why?
I think I might bedying.
My body is too hot. I stretch across the short distance from my bed to my nightstand, reaching for my phone. My whole body screams in agony from theeffort.
I check the time. Two forty-two a.m. I need water. Coldwater.
After forcing one leg over the side of the bed, and then the other, I stand. Sort of. I’m bent at the waist. I shuffle out the door and down the hall, pausing twice. By the time I make it to the fridge, I’ve taken fourbreaks.
I’m overcome by the work it takes to remove the pitcher of water and get a cup while staying upright on shaky legs. My forehead meets the cool marble countertop for a quickrest.
“Aubrey?” Isaac is besideme.
“Hmmm?” The word reverberates against my lips. The marble feels so good even my lips are laid againstit.
“Are you sick?” Concern presses into hisvoice.
Using my palms and every ounce of strength I have, I push up to my bent-standingposition.
“I’m fine. I just… need… rest.” It’s hard to say so many words at once. “And water.” I reach for the countertop to steadymyself.
Isaac wraps one arm around my lower back and the other across my chest, from shoulder to shoulder. I release some of my weight. It feels nice not to be responsible for all of it rightnow.
“Let’s get you to bed. I’ll bring your water.” Isaac’s voice soothes me. “Have you checked yourtemperature?”
“Burning,” I mumble. I don’t need a thermometer to tell me I’m around 102. It’s a momthing.
We get to my room and Isaac helps me into bed. He pulls the covers around me and steps back. I watch him through hoodedeyes.
“I’ll be right back with the water. Do you need anythingelse?”
“I’ll be fine,” I croak, closing myeyes.
Every second blends into the next, and I don’t know how long he takes. Eventually I feel a cold rag pressed to my forehead and hear the sound of a cup being placed on thenightstand.
I don’t trust my body right now so I can’t be certain, but I think I feel something brush my lips. Fingertips,maybe?
“Take a drink, Aubrey.” His thumb pulls on my chin, willing me to open my mouth. His hand slips behind my neck, lifting my head for me. The glass is at my lips, and I sip three times. It’s cold and possibly the best thing I’ve evertasted.
Gently he lays my head on the pillow, his hand slippingaway.
“Get some rest.” His voice issoft.
I want to compliment his bedside manner, but I don’t have the energy. Later I’ll tellhim.
