Vincent
Isweated through my thin hospital gown and fisted my sheets, trapped in a fever dream that lasted for days. You panicked every time my temperature spiked, and at one point, dunked me in an ice-cold bath that set my teeth chattering so hard I sliced through my lower lip. Lucian was concerned enough to seek out advice from a salusborn, their tribe known for having the gift of healing. A Nephilim running a fever was unheard of, which I guess made me a medical marvel. I accepted whatever medications and blood transfusions Lucian administered. I didn’t know if it was trust or apathy that made me so compliant.
But then the fever leveled out and my appetite returned. I couldn’t get enough to eat. Or drink. Blood bags, only. I felt like a blob. Too weak to get out of bed or even roll over and feeding every few hours from a pouch like an infant.
During my waking hours you read to me from Mater’s texts. I curled up inside the timbre of your voice. Sometimes I’d lose the thread of the story and just listen to the cadence of your speech and the way your mouth formed sounds, comforted by their soothing rhythms.
When I asked about her, you told me Mater was abroad. I didn’t ask for any more than that, didn’t have the strength to confront those emotions. There was another person in our midst, a man named Stefan. I didn’t recognize his voice, and he didn’t talk to me directly, but I gathered from the way Lucian spoke about him, that they were lovers. Or that was Lucian’s aim.
Spooky licked me obsessively the first few days, as though trying to scour my skin and replace my scent with her own. Her soft body comforted me, as did her purring. My hearing had always been sharp, and I relied on it now more than ever to determine my surroundings. Heartbeats, breathing, and the soft murmur of machinery became my new touch-points in understanding this new place. That, and my sense of smell. Even still, I was lost. When my anxieties started to spiral, you reminded me that all I needed to do was heal, but I feared there were some parts of me that were irreparably broken.
Then finally, after weeks of recovery, I felt strong enough to get out of bed. The first thing I did was ask for a bath.
“Right now?” you said.
“Or later.” I didn’t know the reason for your hesitation, and not being able to see your face meant that I had no way to gauge your mood.
“Now would be fine,” you said stiffly.
“Unless you’re busy?”
“No, I’m not busy.”
So many of our conversations were like this. Stilted. Awkward. We were tiptoeing around each other, not wanting to talk about our feelings or what we’d each been through. You were shielding me from anything I might find upsetting. I was just trying to make it through the long, hard days.
I rose slowly to a sitting position, then swung my legs over the side of the bed. A wave of dizziness overcame me, and I gripped the mattress with both hands.
“Are you all right?” Your hand was on my shoulder, gently squeezing.
“Yeah, just a little lightheaded.”
I raised a hand to signal that I was ready, and a moment later, your arm reached around my lower back to support me as I stood. Cool air glanced across my backside, which meant I was probably flashing you my skinny behind.
“Would you like a robe?” you asked, probably sensing my shyness. I didn’t know why I felt this way. It was only a bath, and you’d been acting as my nurse for weeks now.
“I’d just have to take it off anyway, wouldn’t I?”
“I suppose,” you said.
“Then, no, I don’t need one.”
We shuffled along at a snail’s pace. My muscles weren’t working for shit, and my balance wasn’t so great either. I hadn’t walked this far in nearly a month. For all of my bathroom needs, I’d used a bed pan.
“How far away is it?” I was having trouble breathing.
“I can carry you.”
“I can walk. I just want to know how far it is.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
I halted at that. Didn’t I?
“How far?” I asked again.
“A half dozen steps.”
I picked up my glacial pace because maybe I did have something to prove. You grumbled at my stubbornness, and only when my chest tightened and every bit of oxygen felt like it was being sucked from my lungs, did I stop to catch my breath.
