Dear Emily. Fern Michaels
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said gently. “I’ve been watching you since yesterday. Go home and get in bed. You’re the only one who hasn’t come down with the flu, so it’s your turn. Sallie isn’t going to say anything. You’re the best waitress she’s ever had and she doesn’t want to lose you. You look flushed to me. Bet you have a fever. Get your stuff together and go home. We aren’t that busy. Look, the most you could make by staying till the end of your shift is maybe another ten bucks. Those guys drinking at the table in the corner are not big spenders. Go on, I don’t want to hear another word. Call in tomorrow and let me know how it’s going. If you can’t make it, don’t worry about it. Sallie has some reserves for the breakfast trade.”
Emily sighed. “I guess you’re right. Explain to Sallie, okay.”
By the time Emily arrived at the small apartment, chills racked her body. She made tea but could barely drink it, so she swallowed four more aspirin and crawled into bed, but not before she slipped into a warm flannel nightgown and piled all four blankets on the bed. It wasn’t until she was dozing off that she remembered that Carrie had slipped a bottle of brandy from the bar into her purse. She should have taken a few swigs.
Exhausted, she slipped into sleep.
The alarm shrieked at four-forty. Emily struggled to reach the button to turn it off so Ian could have an extra hour’s sleep. She always woke him when she was ready to go out the door. Not only did she wake him, she handed him his first cup of coffee for the day.
She knew when her arm refused to move that she was sick—really sick. Whatever it was she had, she’d felt it coming on the past two days. Her ears ached, her throat hurt, and her eyes were watering so badly she could barely see the numerals on the clock. She tried to move, but she was so cold her teeth chattered. The flu? Who got the flu in May? Nobody but her.
“Ian, wake up. I’m sick.” Ian mumbled something and then moved away from her. Without his body warmth she felt colder. Her teeth continued to chatter. “Ian, wake up. You have to call and tell my boss I won’t be in.” Ian bolted upright in the bed.
“What time is it? My God, it’s quarter to five. You’re going to be late, Emily.”
“I’m sick, Ian,” Emily croaked. “God, I can’t get warm and I have a fever. Will you get me some aspirin?”
“Jeez, Emily, you’re burning up.”
“I felt it coming on. I’ve been taking aspirin for the past two days.”
“That’s just like you, Emily, trying to doctor yourself. This damn flu is going to lay you up for two weeks. We’re going to lose ten days’ pay. That was dumb of you, Emily.”
Emily buried her face in the pillow. Was it her fault she was sick? Probably. Everything was her fault. Ian was right, it was stupid of her to try and medicate herself just to save ten dollars. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was stupid. Don’t be cross with me, Ian.”
“I’m not cross with you. Look, put this heavy sweatshirt on and these wool socks. I’ll ask the super if he can give us a portable heater. They turned the heat off last week. The A/C is on now. We don’t have any more blankets, do we?” Emily shook her head. “I’ll fix you a toddy. Maybe you can sweat it out. What else can I do?”
“Call Sallie’s.”
“Right. I’m going to call in too. I’m staying here with you,” he said, his face a mask of worry. “You never get sick, Emily. In all the years I’ve known you only had one cold.” He took her temperature then looked at her, startled. “God, Emily, it’s a hundred and three. I’m going to call a doctor.”
“No. You’re almost a doctor. Just take care of me. There’s nothing they can do for the flu and you know it. Fluids, rest, and aspirin for the fever. Trust me, Ian. Don’t call a doctor.” All she could think of was the ten days’ pay they were going to lose.
“For now, but if your fever doesn’t come down, I’m calling a doctor,” Ian fretted. “Soup, do we have canned soup? I’ll get some when I go out. I was going to make you a hot toddy. We have brandy, don’t we? Coffee for me, maybe some toast. Do you want some?”
“Ian, go to class. Call me during the day.”
“Absolutely not. I’m staying right here with you.”
By midmorning Emily’s fever was down a degree. Ian had used the last of the alcohol to rub her down three different times. She was on her second toddy when he announced that he had to go to the drugstore for more alcohol and aspirin.
Emily could barely keep her eyes open. “Swear to me you won’t call a doctor. I’m feeling better, really I am. By this evening my fever will be down. I mean it, Ian.”
“What the hell kind of doctor am I going to make if I listen to you, Emily? You need a qualified physician. This is home care at its worst.”
“You’re the best medicine for me. I want your promise,” Emily croaked. “Besides, you’re going to be spending money at the drugstore. I feel better. It has to run its course.”
It took three days before Emily was able to shake the chills, the fever, and the sweats. The soreness in her throat eased some and her ears, with drops from the drugstore, ceased to ache. The toddies and the aspirin had finally worked. Or else, as Emily had said, the flu was running its course. She drank constantly, urged on by Ian, who sat at her side the whole time. “You look worse than I feel,” Emily whispered when she woke from a nap on the fourth day.
“I feel like shit,” Ian said quietly. “Sleeping in this chair has given me a permanent crick in my neck. Guess what, I ironed today.”
“Good, the job is yours,” Emily quipped. “It looks so nice outside today, Ian, open the windows and let’s air out this room. I don’t want you to catch whatever I have.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Ian said, banging at the window. He finally raised it. “If you think you can handle being alone, I’m going back to class tomorrow. You have to promise to stay in bed, though.”
Emily nodded. “I’ll be fine. How far behind are you going to be?”
“I’ll catch up.”
“I’m so sorry, Ian. I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“You were pretty sick. This is the last time I’m listening to you, Emily. This has been eating at me, your stupidity and my stupidity for going along with it. I know better.”
Which meant she was really the stupid one. She didn’t know better. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Emily, I was so worried about you. I felt so…helpless. You just lay there. I love you,” he said gruffly. “But no, I am not taking over the ironing. How about some scrambled eggs?”
“Sounds good. No toast, though. My throat is still a little sore.”
“Another toddy, okay?”
“Hey, I’m hooked.” She smiled. “I love you, Ian, with all my heart.”
“My heart returns the feeling.”
Emily scrunched herself into the mound of pillows. Everything happened for a reason. She’d gotten sick and Ian had realized how much he loved her. He’d taken care of her, putting his own life on hold for a few days. “Thank you, God,” she whispered, “for giving me such a kind, wonderful husband.” Another part of her mind shrieked, fool, fool, fool.
Only time would tell if she was a fool or not.
Ian was right, Emily thought as she stepped from the shower. The last three years had gone by in a giant, tired blur. How was it possible that they were approaching their third anniversary? What she wanted, the only thing she wanted was a long, hot bath and one of Ian’s soothing massages. A good dinner, a little wine, and then some lusty lovemaking. Instead she was going to celebrate her anniversary at a restaurant. She’d taken a shower instead