Page 62 of Man Flu

Chapter Seventeen

Saturdays were for sleeping in … but now it’s for finding a cure to the Man Flu while parenting an actual five-year-old.

“MOMMY,” CORA WHISPERS INTO my ear. “Mommmmy. It’s pancake time.”

“Cora, it’s time to let me sleep for a little longer,” I groan and roll onto my opposite side. “I’ll be down in a little bit. Go watch TV.”

“I can’t. Daddy and Beefcake Batman are watching A Peen Zone.”

That perks me up. The last thing I want is those two men conspiring against me. Not that I think Logan would do that, but Rick is so manipulative and deceitful, he could get a car salesman to buy a car for him.

I rip the covers off and let my feet fall to the floor as my usual morning dizziness takes me with it. I have to stop popping out of bed. “Yay! Pancakes!”

“Cora, what have Daddy and Logan been saying to each other?”

Cora climbs onto the bed and slips into my warmed spot. “I don’t know, ball stuff.”

“Ball stuff?”

“Yeah, I guess baseball stuff. You know, one ball strike and you’re out?”

“That’s not how the game goes,” I tell her as I search through my drawers for clothes.

“It is when Logan plays.”

“I think you’re confused,” I tell her.

“Nope. I’m not.”

“Okay.” I pull on a pair of pants and my Saturday’s finest white t-shirt. “Come on, let’s go.”

Cora jumps across the bed until she flies into my arms. “I’m glad you’re up now. There’s too much boy stuff down there.”

“You have no idea,” I tell her with a poke on her button nose. “Who let Daddy in this morning?”

She shrugs, and I squint an eye. “It’s kind of nice having Daddy here, isn’t it?”

No, no it’s not. “I’m glad it makes you happy,” I tell her. Who the hell let that man back in the house? It took me a full hour to shove him out the door last night with his puppy dog pout and droopy eyes. I felt like the biggest a-hole in the world, but no. I’m not going backward. It’s all just a game until he wins, then it’s back to the good old times. I’ve done this way too many times to be fooled again. Now, he’s trying to befriend a potential interest in my personal life.

I’m imagining the two of them sitting on the couch with beers in their hand before nine in the morning, but there’s one part I’m confused about. How is it that the two of them go from sick as hell to awake before me and shooting the shit like it was a pre-planned arrangement?

What I wasn’t prepared for was the sight in front of me, however.

The sofa has been pulled back out into the bed formation, and the blankets are strewn across the top with Logan and Rick tucked in tightly.

“What is this?” I ask them.

“We’re dying,” Logan says, sounding as if he thinks he’s telling the truth.

I’m still staring. I can’t think of anything worthy to respond with. They’re dying. Together.

“Why are you back here?” I ask, holding my glare on Rick. “I think I was clear about you leaving last night, and I didn’t give you an invitation to return.”

“He’s pretty sick, Hannah. Not that he should be here, but, seeing as I know how he feels, you should cut him a little slack, maybe? This is a bad case of the flu, like it’s bad. To be honest, I’m not sure how people are making it through this without hospitalization.” Logan intervenes. I’m not the slightest bit surprised by this. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. My life is a big joke, and it obviously always will be. I just had the same goddamn flu!

“Why are you back here, Rick?” I ask, ignoring Logan.

“Tiana kicked me out last night, so I let myself in with the spare key that was under the doormat,” Rick says.