Page 18 of Man Flu

Chapter Five

I made it to Hump Day … minus the humping

THE ALARM GOES OFF again. Crap. I knew I shouldn’t have considered the slight possibility that Cora could be better this morning. That’s not how these colds or viruses go. No, she’ll be down and out for at least three to four days before she’s well enough to play right before bed, then wake up like a zombie with green boogers draining from her nose the next morning.

I tiptoe down the hall and press on the white wooden frame of Cora’s door, allowing in just enough light to see she’s still sound asleep. She’s usually a light sleeper, but when she’s sick, alarms can be blazing, and she will not budge. As I kneel next to her bed, I touch the back of my hand to her forehead. Warm, but not as hot as yesterday. Her face is covered with dried boogers, and she’s snoring louder than a grown man. Today isn’t going to be pretty.

Whatever the case, she’s not going to school. I leave her room and climb back into my bed like the child I wish I could act like. Maybe I can’t act like a child, but I can hide under my covers and play Words With Friends for a bit. I open the app, wishing there was a new game request from Dickle, but I’m almost positive the fun from that game has passed. But hey, Aunt May wants to play another round.

This is what my life has come to. That, and Rick’s living his happy little fantasy next door, blissfully unencumbered by his parental responsibilities. Mom thinks Rick cheated on me because I didn’t try hard enough to please him, and Dad won’t admit it, but I’m nearly positive he still likes Rick because he’s an “old-fashioned kind of …” douchebag “who wears a suit and tie every day.” Plus, divorce wasn’t part of Dad’s grand plan for me. As far as they’re both concerned, I probably should have been more understanding of Rick’s desires, apparently including his desire to sleep with more than one woman.

When has it ever been acceptable for a man to cheat on a woman and carry on like it was nothing? It makes me wonder about Mom and Dad’s marriage. If that crap is cool with them, great, but I don’t want to know. I’m a monogamous type of person, and I don’t think it’s too much to expect the same out of a partner.

I need to figure something out … something I don’t want to figure out. I rip my pillow out from beneath my head and smother it over my face, pressing firmly into my eyeballs, which causes little black circles to swim in front of my darkened vision.

Just get it over with.

With a toss of my pillow, I blindly reach for my phone and search for the name Douche Nugget Rick. The phone rings once. You’re a douche. Twice. You’re a douche. Three times. You’re such a damn douche.

“Hannahbananna, how are you, ex-darling?”

“Really?” My voice couldn’t sound flatter or less affected by his insults if I tried.

“What’s going on?” I hear a blender or something in the background, which strikes me as funny since Rick would never eat anything green or something that had a natural source of vitamins in it when we were together. He was a “meat and potato” kind of guy because that’s still a thing and all, and it made him feel more like a manly man. As a result, I ended up making three dinners every night. Cora inherited his limited tasted buds but hates meat and potatoes. She prefers only pasta, and I can’t eat like that every night, not at my thirty-three-year-old, post-child state of life. So, three meals it was, and not one, thanks. Ever. Now … now Rick drinks green smoothies for breakfasts and enjoys “cleansing his palate” with a nice hearty salad before lunch and dinner. Why? I almost laugh out loud while thinking my atrocious thoughts. Because Tiana is a size negative zero, she only has one chin, and she has make-up tattooed onto her face, so she never wakes up looking like a freak like the rest of the goddamn population. Oh, oh, and the best part, yeah, the best part of it is she has this Cuban, silky dark hair that makes a hair model look like they stuck their finger into a socket. There isn’t a flaw to this chick, so Rick watches every calorie now. He needs to make sure he can remain suitable to be her arm candy or else— “Hannah?”

“Uh, yeah, um, are you busy today?” I sound caught off guard even though I’m the one who called him. This happens often. My anger is still present a year later, but thankfully, that’s the only emotion I have left for this man.

He chortles at my question, which enrages me more. However, Rick could pleasantly say, “Good morning, how are you?” and I’d still hate him enough to want to kick him repeatedly in the nuts.

“Yes, I typically work during the week.”

He doesn’t even ask why. Why else would I be calling him unless it had something to do with Cora? He’s not asking “why” because he knows what this is about. He knows I call in sick way more often than he does, and he’s the boss of his own penis—I mean company. Same thing, really.

“Cora is very sick, and I basically lost a sale yesterday because I had to bring our daughter to work for a few hours. Is there any chance you can have someone fill in for you today? I’m sure it has to be hard finding someone to lean all the way back in your desk chair and casually rest their feet on your desk for eight hours while you smile at every double D secretary that walks by, but I could use a hand.”

“A hand?” Yes, that is all he took from that long-winded attempt of a slam. “You have a drawer full of vibrators the last time I checked, so I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

“I swear to God, Rick, I will come over there and dump your green shit-drink all over your five-hundred-dollar shirt if you don’t stop dicking around.”

“Easy, easy, settle down now.” I’m not a dog, Rick. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it. “I think I have a solution that will help us both.”

“No. No, that’s not a solution. No.”

“Hey, Titi!” That’s t-e-e t-e-e, not titty like I prefer to call her.

“Rick,” I grunt. “No, she is not watching Cora today.”

“Hannah, she’s home all day other than her online spinning class.” I hate the way he says my name as if I’m a child who’s begging for ice cream.

“No. Plus, what would she do with Cora during her spinning class?”

“I’m sure she’d skip it for a day.”

“No,” I keep saying, while also realizing I probably have no other choice.

“What’s up, babe?” Tiana shouts from wherever, sounding obviously out of breath. Does she ever stop working out? Screw her and her nice body.

“Will you stay with Cora today while Hannah works? Cora’s pretty sick, and Hannah can’t afford to take any more sick time at her office.” He just air-quoted the word office with his fingers. I know he did. I can tell by the way he said the word, and I can picture it in my head, just like he always did when I made mention of my job being as important as his. I was bringing in at least thirty-five percent of the household income, but it wasn’t fifty-one percent, so I wasn’t as important as mister C-E-freaking-O.