The ambulance took three lifetimes to arrive. And it took another one to finally hear that she was okay, just severely dehydrated along with her nasty flu.
Her face is transparent as she lies in the huge hospital bed. Her nose looks even redder against the ashen background of her beautiful face.
What would have happened if I wasn’t there? If I didn’t come to her uninvited yet again? I had some doubts about my visit, which I stubbornly ignored. But those faint voices of reason were erased the moment I saw her.
The doctor reassured me she’ll be fine. They broke her fever and pumped all sorts of drugs into her, to keep her sinuses clean and her body hydrated.
And still I’m wearing holes in the sterile floor, waiting for her to wake up and scold me for something, so I know she is okay.
I stop to check my emails. It’s almost midnight, but at this point I’d do anything to distract myself from waiting. Leaning against the wall, I tap my foot while I review a few proposals.
“What’s the tapping?”
I drop the phone on the windowsill and rush to her bedside, her raspy voice the most beautiful sound I’ve heard all day.
“You’re up,” I say like an idiot, leaning over her, gripping the frame of her bed to stop myself from touching her, hugging her, holding her.
She squints. “Xander? Where am I?” Her eyes move from me to her arm, and up the tube to the IV bag, and then back to me. “What happened?”
“You had a fever and fainted, but there is nothing to worry about; you should regain your strength soon.”
“I fainted?” She closes her eyes, frowning.
“Are you in pain?”
She shakes her head. “You found me?” She licks her cracked lips.
Unable to stay away, I caress her head, her hairsticky and warm under my touch. “Luckily, you unlocked the door just before you lost consciousness. Here, have a sip of water.” I reach for the cup and bring the straw to her mouth.
She blinks a few times and takes a sip. “It was you knocking?”
“Yes.”
She closes her eyes again. I want to pepper her with questions to make sure she is not suffering. I want to call the doctor and demand they run all sorts of tests to make sure she’s alright. I want to berate her for not calling someone sooner when she fell sick.
I don’t do any of those things. I just watch her, the caged-lion feeling restraining me again.
I don’t know how long I stand there as she drifts back to sleep. I just resume my pacing, and when she groans, I’m back at her side so quickly I almost topple over a chair.
“I was on my way to the toilet when you knocked,” she whimpers, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She covers her face with her forearm. “Did I?”
“Don’t worry about it.” The state she was in will forever be etched on my mind, but that minor detail is inconsequential. I peel her arm from her face. “I was there; that’s what matters. And you were perfectly decent, I promise.”
Groaning, she looks away. “Thank you for that charitable lie,” she murmurs.
Fuck, she is adorable. Always. In her anger. In her defiance. Even in her unwarranted embarrassment. “Look at me.”
She does reluctantly.
“I’m just fucking glad you’re okay.”
“With no shred of dignity left,” she whimpers.
“It’s going to be a good joke one day,” I tease.
She widens her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch. “Don’t you dare ever mention it.”
“I promise.” I pat my heart.
