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“Okay, I’ll see you out there.”
He scooted out of the bed, and I sat up slowly, not sure if it was because I was feeling shaky or because I was already feeling the loss of Michael’s warmth. I made my way to the bathroom and peed, then I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and pulled my tangled hair into a bun. I desperately needed a shower, but there was no way I had the energy to support that kind of effort.
“How are you feeling?” Michael asked as I shuffled out into the main living area, holding onto the walls for support.
“Like death,” I said honestly.
I plopped down on the couch, exhausted just from the walk across the apartment, and Michael was beside me immediately, handing me a bottle of water and more Tylenol. I gave him a grateful smile as I took it from him.
“Are you still cold?”
“Yeah,” I sniffled, feeling miserable.
He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around me.
“If this doesn’t work, let me know and I’ll find another blanket,” he instructed. “Take your Tylenol so we can keep your fever down, and I’ll get your soup.”
“You’re a good friend, Michael,” I said, giving him an earnest look. I had the urge to cry.
“It’s the least I can do after I brought germs home and infected you.”
“Well, we’ve had quite a few people sick at my office too, so it might not have been you,” I explained. “I just hope that you don’t get sick too.”
“Don’t worry, I have a strong constitution, and I’m popping echinacea and vitamin C like it’s my job.”
“Oh! Your job!” I remembered. “Don’t you have to go to work?”
“No, it’s Friday.” He gave me a crooked smile. “You’ve been kind of out of it.”
Nutella leapt up on the couch, curling up in my lap, and I leaned back to rest my head against the back of the seat. Michael’s eyes seemed to warm, but maybe it was all part of my fever dream.
I must have dozed off again for a few minutes because the next thing I knew he was sitting next to me on the couch and encouraging me to wake up and eat some soup. He’d dug out a lap table from somewhere, and once I got settled, he handed me a large mug of soup and a sleeve of saltine crackers.
“Here’s some tea to go with it,” he said, handing me a steaming cup of liquid. “It’s a wellness formula.”
I took a sip and grimaced. “Yeah it tastes like a wellness formula,” I said. “Or that moisture that pools at the bottom of the trash can.”
Michael chuckled. “Come on now, drink your tea and eat your soup like a good girl, and then we can watch a movie or something.”
For some reason him calling me a good girl warmed my center. I had a flash of him calling me a good girl in a completely different context.
“Can we watch Labyrinth?” I asked in a plaintive voice.
Michael was not a fan of that movie, but I found it comforting.
“Sure,” he said easily.
Damn, he really was the perfect man.
“I’m just kidding,” I said. “Let’s watch Iron Man.”
I took a taste of my soup and paused. I’d been expecting chicken, but this soup had tofu in it and a flavor I couldn’t identify.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Spicy Thai soup,” he said. “I ordered it while you were sleeping. Studies have shown it’s more effective at killing viruses than chicken noodle soup.”
“Really?” I asked, taking another taste. “It’s really good. Like I’d eat this even if I wasn’t sick. But not this tea, ugh.”
