She nods, but it’s half-hearted. “I’ll be fine. I probably just need to crash for a few hours, and then I’ll feel better.” She manages to adjust the bag over her shoulder once more, but the strap snags on her cardigan, and she has to twist awkwardly to free it.
I watch this entire process, fighting every urge to help her. It’s driving me crazy. “Do you have food at home? Or anything for the fever?”
She hesitates a fraction, enough to tell me at least one of those answers is ano.
“I’ll figure it out,” she says, shaking her head as she pushes her desk chair in. “I just wanna go home and lie down for a while. I’ll get to the rest of it later.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
I follow her to the elevators, trying not to hover. She steps inside and leans against the mirrored wall. The doors close, and I watch her stare at the floor until she’s no longer in view, replaced by the steel exterior.
And even once she’s gone, I stand there for a minute, thoughts running rampant in my mind.
She’s not going to go to the store. She’s not going to pick up soup, or medicine, or anything else.
She’ll crawl into bed and try to sleep it off, and maybe she’ll be better in the morning, or maybe she’ll get worse, because that’s what happens when you live alone and don’t want to admit you need help.
I go back to my office, sit, and stare at my screen for way too long, those worried thoughts still pinging.
It’s not my place to take care of her.
She’d probably be weirded out if I just… showed up.
Fuck it.I shove back from my desk, stand, walk to the HR floor, and knock on the HR Director’s door.
She looks up, trying to mask her annoyance. “How can I help you, Caleb?”
“Sorry, this’ll just take a second,” I say. “I need Maddy Williams’s address. She’s my new assistant, and I need to send something to her.” I sound creepy, but whatever.
Karen gives me a look. “Is this urgent?”
“She’s out sick, and I’m a little worried about her. I want to send her some things from the drug store.” I keep my face blank, trying to act like this is the most normal thing in the world.
She sighs and, after a few clicks on her computer, reads out an address on the rougher side of the city.
Oh geez. That area’s not safe.
I thank her, then head straight for the ground floor. I’m already making a list in my head. I need soup, tea, Tylenol, and anything else I think might help.
She might not even open the door, though.But, I’ve got to try.
I’d rather risk her shutting me out than spend the whole night wondering if she’s lying on the floor of her apartment, too proud to ask for help.
An hour later, I’m standing outside her apartment, loaded down with so much shit, that my biceps are starting to ache. The complex is seedy, and I wouldn’t want anyone I know to live here, but…
That’s a problem for a different day. I knock gently on her door.
At first, there’s nothing. Then a cough, so rough it sounds like she’s being wrung out from the inside. Footsteps shuffle, a lockturns, and the door cracks open an inch. Her face appears, eyes glassy and hair everywhere.
She blinks at me with surprise and maybe a hint of embarrassment. “Caleb? What are you doing here?”
“Hi,” I say, holding up the bags. “Didn’t want you to starve and I was worried you didn’t have any medicine.”
She hesitates, then opens the door wide enough for me to slip in.
Her apartment is a shoebox, and it was obviously built alongtime ago. The tan carpet is worn with stained areas. The kitchen is more of a suggestion than an actual room, and the living area barely has enough room for a couch.
Maddy is wrapped in a faded pink comforter and she’s holding a wad of tissues in one hand.
