He pressed his face into the pillow. He kept his eyes open so that when he looked up, everything looked blurry until his eyes watered. Unfortunately, it was becoming harder and harder to get his eyes to water, or to cry at all. The feeling built up inside of him, and as much as his throat felt tight and his stomach ached he couldn't release a single wail.
"Meriwether, dear, you haven't eaten in two days." His mother, Lucy, placed a bowl of soup on his bedside table. Lewis turned and stared at her, her eyes turning from hazel to bright gold as the candle flame flickered. "This soup should be easy on your stomach. And I wish you wouldn't take these pills right now," she added, eyeing the amber glass next to the bowl. "You don't need to be sitting on the chamber pot all day and night when you should be resting in bed."
He hadn't been able to keep food down for a week. With nothing in his body, he felt blocked up and kept Dr. Rush's pills at hand. He took a dose last night and passed copious volumes of what looked like murky water.
There came a gruff voice from the downstairs foyer. "Lewis! I'm here."
"It's Clark," Lewis whispered. A week earlier, a letter had arrived from Clark, who had spent the past few months in Missouri tending to his duties. In the letter, he had promised to stop in Virginia and pay Lewis a visit as he made his way east through Virginia.
"Shall I send him up?"
"Please." Lewis's lip quivered. "I want to see him."
Lucy disappeared into the hallway, and moments later, Clark was at Lewis's bedside in her place, his rifle slung across his back and his favorite coonskin cap in his hand. "Another one of those days, Lewie?"
Lewis immediately embraced Clark, and, for the first time in weeks, began to bawl.
Clark knew this feeling. He arose many a morning to find Lewis curled up in his tent, weeping silently, complaining of pains in his stomach, chest, and head. He would talk of going away forever, sleeping forever. It left Clark frightened- he, a man who had braved cold and heat, mountains, river rapids, and feuding tribes every day, sometimes alone, for two years.
"I've never felt this terrible," Lewis choked. "I want this to end, Clark!"
"Oh, Lewis." Clark gave his hand a tight squeeze. "I know it hurts, but it may not ever end. But hey," he smiled softly. "You're home now. You're here with me and your family and everyone else. We'll all do what we can to get you through the days like this. You may not feel fine in the end, but you'll make it. We'll make sure of it."
Lewis sniffled and laid his head on Clark's shoulder. "I'd kill myself right now if I wasn't at my mother's house."
"Lewis, no! Don't kill yourself, please!" Clark embraced his best friend more tightly, as tightly as he could without hurting him. "Please," he whispered. "We all love you, Lewis. Please."
"I want my mother," Lewis said, sniffling. "Can you bring her up?"
Now Clark was reluctant to leave his friend for even a second, but he nodded, then stepped into the hallway and whispered, loudly and hoarsely, for Lucy, who was in her bedroom.
Lucy entered silently but quickly. "What's the matter, baby?" She sat beside his pillow, her hip beside his head, and stroked him above his ear, as she did when he was a child. Clark watched from the rocking chair in the corner. His eyes began to burn as he thought of his own late mother- the mother of ten children, who despite this, loved each of them the same and even sat up with him on rough nights while his eldest brothers were on the battlefield, hundreds of miles away. The mother who did not live to see him go on the expedition and return home a hero. He didn't realize that he had begun to sob loudly until Lucy looked back at him over her shoulder, frowning sympathetically.
Lucy began to hum a song as she continued to stroke Lewis's head with one hand and massaged his limp hand with the other. Clark recognized the tune as a lullaby that his elder sisters once sang to their babies, who were all young adults now. Had his mother ever sung it to him?
"I'm going to get him something to drink," Lucy whispered, slowly rising from the bedside. "Are you fine alone with him for a moment?"
"Of course." Clark took her place and knelt beside his best friend, who was lying still, his eyes swollen and teary, his lower lip puckered and quivering. The same sight he saw countless times on the expedition.
Lucy returned with a mug of warm milk and honey. "Drink," she instructed, and Lewis took the cup and sipped slowly. "Hopefully that will stay down." She re-positioned the empty chamber pot closer to the side table. "His stomach has been upset," she remarked, turning to Clark. "I've had no luck getting any herbs down."
"That happened a few times out west," Clark responded, thinking of all the Thunderclappers that Lewis had popped along the trails and of all the time he had spent afterwards squatting in the bushes.
Clark heard the front door open and close in the foyer downstairs. "That's Reuben." Lucy motioned for Clark to rise and step out into the dim hallway with her. "Why don't we take a walk and Reuben can stay with Meriwether for a bit?" She softly closed the door behind them. Reuben met them at the stairwell, a satchel in hand. "Evening, Mother. And Mr. Clark."
"Reuben, is it any trouble if you sit with your brother for a while while Clark and I talk outside?"
"Is he unwell again?"
"Very," Lucy answered, frowning.
"No problem at all," Reuben said, quietly entering the bedroom. "You two take a break. I'll watch him as long as you need me to."
As soon as Clark and Lucy had made it down the walkway leading from the porch, Lucy suddenly hugged Clark and began to weep. "I don't want to see my baby this way! I don't know what to do anymore- I feel like nothing I'm doing helps!"
"Shh," Clark whispered, patting the poor woman's back. "I felt the very same way for the entire expedition, Mrs. Marks. We both felt hopeless. I did what I could not to get upset in front of him." He looked up at Lucy, who had begun to dry her tears. "I love Lewis as... more than just a best friend." Clark began to tremble. "He and I... we shared wonderful company with one another and... it hurt me to see him hurting too." He felt his cheeks burning, but he saw understanding and trust in Lucy's expression. "I- I can't believe I'm telling you this but... you need to know how much he means to me and how much I want to help him."
Lucy sniffed and took Clark's hand. "Thank you, William. I have to admit that even I didn't think that Meriwether was... interested in women like most other gentlemen usually are. Like yourself." She smiled weakly. "He always wanted to dress up and be the showiest gentleman in the room. And as athletic as he is, he never was one to play rough. He thinks with his good heart." She frowned suddenly. "Which is what scares me, William. His impulses..." She stared up at the sky. "I'm afraid to leave him alone sometimes. His late father, my first husband, was a bit the same. He would do just what his heart told him to do and sometimes he didn't think..." She paused as she sobbed again. "Meriwether was only five when he lost his father. I don't think he remembers him well. I've buried two husbands and I- I'm not going to bury any one of my children!" She wailed and laid her head on Clark's shoulder.
"Funny thing happened on the expedition that Lewis and I don't talk about much," Clark said. "We met some time travelers from the future. There was a little boy with them who comes from two hundred years from now. He was going on about how famous Lewis and I were where he comes from." Both Lucy and Clark managed to smile. "Two hundred years!" he repeated, and then he frowned again. "And still Lewis fears that his work will mean nothing. He doesn't think it means anything even today. What will it take, Lucy, for him to realize that he isn't a meaningless, useless soul?"
"William, something is definitely not right up..." She tapped her forehead and sucked in her lower lip to block another sob. "We've tried and tried and no good words or deeds are of any help to him." Although she had managed to stifle her tears, Clark embraced her tightly yet again. "Clark, please stay with us as long as you can and do and say to Lewis what you must to make him feel better."
"I will do my absolute best."
The two walked back to the house in silence. Clark reflected upon what he could have done in the past few years to protect his partner's fragile heart. Stayed with him rather than abandon him when they had that argument? That was a start, Clark reminded himself. Now that the expedition was over and Lewis was in a darker mood than ever before, what would he need to do? What could he do, now that the two were apart? Now that Lewis truly needed a best friend?
How could he keep Lewis away from whiskey and gunpowder and knives from halfway across the country? How could he sit up with him on those long nights? How could he talk to him or listen to his troubles or compliment him to lift his spirits?
How could he make him feel loved and keep him safe?
