Page 35 of Man Flu

“Thank you again,” I say as he heads down the staircase.

He doesn’t respond. Why? Why?

I already feel sick. I don’t need to dread going into work tomorrow, having to explain a whole lot more than if I were just sick.

As the door closes downstairs, I turn for my bedroom, clipping my shoulder as I walk inside, but I hardly feel the pain shoot down my arm in comparison to the confusion buzzing through my head. This is why I don’t nap. It’s a good reason never to nap again.

The urge to wake up Cora and find out what happened while I was sleeping is overwhelming, so I’m stepping into a cold shower before I do something stupid.

* * *

Holy mother of—

“Mommy.” There’s a cold hand on my face. “Mommmyyyy.”

“Cora, what?” I open one eye and roll to the side, finding it’s six. It’s six. It’s time to get up and start the shit show. Shit show. Oh, no.

“Cora, sweetie, go and get dressed. I don’t care what you wear today, but go get dressed and I’ll come find you in a few minutes.” What the hell is this? I thrash my covers off and run to the bathroom, making the base just as an explosion of crap erupts from the hollow insides of my body. Hell has landed inside of me. That’s what this is. Did I sin? I don’t know what the hell I did that was so wrong to deserve this.

Okay, it just keeps coming. Yup, we can stop now. Ugh, and now I’m going to puke. I can’t sit here but can’t get up either.

“Mommmyyy?”

“Cora, go to your goddamn room, and I’ll be with you shortly. Shittttt.”

“Why are you mad, Mommy?” I have my hand gripped against the cold sink, and my toes are curling beneath my feet. Sweat is pouring from every pore on my face, and my stomach has turned inside out. “Mommy?”

The doorknob twists just as another gush of wonder floods through my pipes. “Cora!” I scream.

She continues to open the door, and a look of horror and shock fills her face. “There’s poop everywhere!”

“Cora get out of here, now!”

She doesn’t move. She just wraps her arms around her stomach and lurches forward as vomit pours from her mouth.

That’s all takes for the tears to start. I can’t freaking do this. “I’m sorry,” she says, quietly, while wiping her arm under her mouth.

The pain in my stomach eases for a moment, and it’s enough time to clean up one mess so I can tend to the other.

It takes me a full hour to clean the bathroom, but by the time I’m done, I feel better. All the pains in my body have subsided, and another quick shower rinses off every memory of the last twenty hours of my life.

I find Cora downstairs in the living room, sitting quietly on the couch with her backpack. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, again.

“Did you eat breakfast?” I ask.

“I had two granola bars, and I can buy lunch today.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the bus.”

As we’re walking down the street, I recall my curiosity from last night. “Hey, Cora?”

“Yeah?” she says, shuffling the gravel beneath her little Ugg boots.

“Why was Logan in a bad mood last night when he left?”

She shrugs and doesn’t lift her head. “Beefcake Batman seemed fine to me.”