Page 55 of Man Flu

I turn to find Cora with the straw, standing directly behind me. I close my eyes and instantly regret everything I just said. Not because it wasn’t true, but because despite everything I want to say to Rick, the motherly instinct inside of me still wants to preserve Cora’s innocence.  I want her to look up to her dad, even if he is a dick.

“Why were you so mean to Mommy?” Cora says with tears in her eyes. Her words trail off as she runs up the stairs with the straw in hand.

“Thanks a lot, Hannah,” Rick says while pushing himself up to his knees.

“For telling our daughter the truth?”

“She wasn’t the mistake. You were,” he says.

Really? This dirtbag has the nerve to say that when he’s totally imposing on me and at my mercy right now? It’s the last thing I need to hear before I can’t bear another moment in such a close proximity to him. “A mistake? Finding someone whose life revolves around you for ten freaking years was a mistake? Rick, you don’t know a good thing when you have it. Your girlfriend just kicked you out of your own house for being sick. Go ahead and tell me again that I was the mistake.”

He pulls himself up to his feet and drags his limp body to the front door. How does this man still make my chest ache, even when he makes my blood boil? Why do I have to be a good person and have feelings for all people, good and bad?

Rick nearly falls against the door and presses his head against the finished wood. The back of his neck is dark red, and I can tell he has a fever. He always turns red like that when he’s sick.

“Oh, for goodness sake, let’s go.” I take his arm and pull him along through the kitchen and into the family room—a room I haven’t spent any time in since I was part of a family. It has felt off limits. Cora plays in her bedroom or mine, and that’s where we spend our time. There doesn’t seem to be a purpose to feeling alone in this big, empty room, but at least there’s a pull-out sofa for unexpected guests.

I prop Rick up against the wall and pull the bed out. Cora reappears, looking forlorn, but nevertheless, wanting to help, as usual. She knows the drill with company since Mom and Dad drop by once every couple months, so she goes to the closet and pulls out the bed in a bag. She drags the plastic bag along the floor until she reaches the side of the couch. “Thanks, sweetie.”

I make up the bed without much care and help Rick over, with even less concern. “Thank you,” he mutters.

I close my eyes and shake my head. How does someone walk away from their significant other when they’re sick? I want to ask myself, but karma kind of answers my question. He’s basically getting what he asked for with the choices he’s made. However, if it is karma having her way with Rick, how did I become the helping hand once again?

I suddenly remember I came down here for a straw, and I have no clue where it ended up in the last few minutes, so I grab another on my way back upstairs.

One day after dealing with my own flu, I’m somehow running an infirmary. I’ve barely recovered myself. I’m not ready to take care of not one, but two full-grown, sick men. I hike back up the stairs and find Logan peacefully asleep.

“The world works in mysterious ways.” Mom has always repeated this old quote to me, thinking it would solve my world’s problems. Nothing has ever felt like much of a mystery until now, though. None of this makes sense.

I scoot down against my nightstand, keeping my gaze set on Logan and his peaceful, man-tasizingly beautiful features that belong on Prince Charming, though I’ll bet Prince Charming never came down with the man-flu. If he had, they could never have lived happily ever after. In any case, with the out-of-control disaster Logan and I have unfortunately found in common these last few days, I haven’t given myself the chance to analyze this man who I was so eager to get into bed with last night.

Before Rick, I vowed never to date the same kind of guy twice, so I took notes about each date, boyfriend, and relationship. Thinking about it now, it was probably a little Type A of me, but I didn’t want to forget about the lunatics, possible serial killers, and obsessive stalkers in my past. They all had traits and qualities that could tip me off in the future if needed.

Rick, good old Rick fit none of the qualities and traits in my notes, and after my fair share of dating, and whatevers, I figured I had enough data to draw an intelligent conclusion.

Turns out I was wrong. How could my judgment be so bad, despite my efforts to choose a good guy?

I knew from the moment I became pregnant with Cora that I needed to take a closer look at those notes and continue making notes on my relationship with Rick. I suspected there may be a future where I’d need a list of qualities to avoid in a person. Maybe I should go on a hunt for that list, though I’m afraid it would leave no available men for my future.

“Hey,” Logan grumbles.

“That was a quick nap,” I tell him, offering an empathetic smile. “I brought you the straw.”

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

I should probably let him know about the situation downstairs. “Well, Tiana dropped Rick at the door like roadkill, then took off.”

“Huh?” he asks while rubbing his temple.

“Rick has the flu too, but Tiana didn’t want to be anywhere near him or his moaning and germs, so she was kind enough to drop him off here so I could deal with him.”

“But, you’re divorced, I thought.”

“I am,” I assure him with a sigh.

“I don’t understand.” He seems irritable, along with his other crashing symptoms. Not that I wouldn’t be irritated too, but there isn’t a better way to explain this situation.

“That makes two of us, Logan. I don’t want him here. He’s not my problem. I’d be happier if the man moved an hour away, honestly.”