This chapter was inspired, in part, by the wonderful story entitled Here's Looking at You by lissianne. Also, Rusty deserves a shout-out for his devotion to Cheez-It crackers on Major Crimes. Ain't nothin' wrong with a little product placement every now and then.
Sometimes you just need to take a sick day.
November 8, 2018
Andy was buttoning the bottom button of his dress shirt when Sharon entered their bedroom from the bathroom. Looking up from the button, he felt a sharp stab in his neck. He'd have to remember never to spend another night on the couch. She was already dressed for work. "No. Absolutely not," he said. She rolled her eyes at him and kept walking. "You are not going to work today," he proclaimed.
"Yes, I am," she said. He didn't hear her from the other side of the room because she couldn't talk above a whisper.
"You're feverish, and you have no business being out of bed. Besides, I don't want to listen to Provenza bitch about you spreading germs," Andy said. Sharon walked around the bed, headed for the door, but she faltered and swayed a bit before sinking down to the mattress. Approaching her, he said, "That's it. You're staying home." He kneeled in front of her and removed her high heels. Staring at the top of his head, she shrugged out of her blazer and flopped back on the bed. He chuckled and sat down next to her.
She croaked, "Get away from me. I have germs."
"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure I'm immune to your germs by now."
Sitting up, she weakly attempted to shove him off the bed but he didn't budge. Reaching for her hands, he said, "I'll stay home and we can play doctor."
"Andy, we can't both call in sick. One of us needs to babysit your best friend."
He knew she was right, but he would've liked nothing more than to stay and take care of her. Due to a deep, persistent cough she'd gotten very little sleep. Not wanting to wake him, she'd moved from their bed to the couch at some point in the night. It hadn't mattered because her cough woke him all the way from the living room where he discovered her watching Casablanca with the volume muted. She was surrounded by used tissues, nose spray, a bottle of Nyquil, two empty bottles of water, an opened box of Cheez-It crackers, and a pile of pillows and blankets. Not aware her husband had entered the room, she threw another tissue on the coffee table, and stuck her hand in the box of crackers.
"Rusty is going to be mad if you contaminate that entire box," said Andy.
Startled at the sound of his voice, she dropped the crackers. "You scared me. I thought you were asleep."
"I was until your coughing woke me up." Andy bent over, picked the crackers off the floor, walked into the kitchen, and threw them in the trash. Halfway back to the living room, he turned around, walked back into the kitchen, and grabbed the trash can. "You didn't eat much dinner. Are you hungry?" he asked as he raked the used tissues and water bottles off the coffee table into the trash can.
From her prone position on the couch, she said, "Kind of."
Turning to look at her, he couldn't help but smile. She was a mess. Half her hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail with the other half hanging mostly in her face. Her glasses were crooked. Her nose was red, and her lips were smudged with cheesy cracker crumbs. She was wearing thick socks, and her favorite heavy, flannel robe – the one that had a stain on the collar and a rip on the shoulder, but she wouldn't dream of throwing it away because it was so warm and comfortable. She didn't even remotely resemble the sleek, authoritative woman who ran the Major Crimes division of the LAPD.
"Don't go anywhere," he said. "I'll be right back."
"I don't have the energy to get off this couch."
When he returned from the kitchen with a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup and another bottle of water, she was propped up on the couch watching Humphrey Bogart kiss Ingrid Bergman. He handed her the soup. "Are you supposed to feed a cold and starve a fever, or is it the other way around?" she asked.
"I have no idea," he said. Joining her on the couch, he lifted her feet and placed them in his lap. "Are you warm enough?"
"Not really."
After draping one of the blankets over them, he sat back to watch TV. He didn't really care about the movie; he'd seen it at least three times. It was just an excuse to be with her. They were seldom awake and alone at the same time. Almost always surrounded by others at work, and Rusty at home, he appreciated having her all to himself even if she was sick. The opportunity to take care of her, instead of the other way around, was a rare occurrence.
Blowing on the soup to cool it before taking a tentative sip, she made a face and wrinkled her sore nose.
"What's wrong? I know it's out of a can, but it's still pretty good."
"Nothing's wrong. I just wish I could taste it. I'm so stopped up. I can't taste or smell anything," she said as she leaned over to set the bowl on the coffee table next to the Nyquil.
"Can I get you something else?"
Picking up the box of Cheez-It, she said, "No thanks. Nothing sounds good right now except for these."
Under the blanket, his fingers began massaging her feet through the silly socks she was wearing. He remembered how she'd laughed when Rusty presented the socks to her on Mother's Day in an elaborately wrapped box. When Andy first saw the long, narrow box, he'd assumed it was a necklace, and was a little embarrassed Rusty had given her a better present than the roses he'd bought her. After unwrapping the box, Sharon opened the lid to reveal socks covered in cherubic angels. After laughing in delight, she gave Rusty a big hug. Andy could tell by her shiny eyes how much the inexpensive, but sweet gift meant to her, and he was proud of the kid for taking the time and effort to find a gift based on something he knew she'd like, and not just picking up an impersonal gift at the corner drugstore.
Turning from Rusty, she gave Andy a hug and thanked him for the flowers. "I'm not your mother. You didn't have to get me anything for Mother's Day," she said.
"You're not my mother, but you are a great mother and I love you." He was confused when he saw a sad look cross her face for just a moment, but she tried to hide her feelings by walking into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers.
Later that night in bed, he'd asked her what had made her sad. She was reluctant to open old wounds, but he persisted. She told him Jack seldom acknowledged special days like Mother's Day even when their kids were small and they were still a relatively happy family. She'd always felt it was important to remember special occasions, and she lavished attention and gifts on her husband, especially on his birthday and Father's Day. As the years went by, and Jack sank deeper into his addictions, he didn't even pretend to care about special occasions. Most of the time, he wasn't even physically present. As a grown woman, Sharon had learned to harden her heart and expect nothing, but it hurt her terribly to think her children were missing out. For years, she concocted stories to explain to her son and daughter why their father wasn't at their dance recital, or Little League baseball game, or birthday party. She didn't think of it as lying; she thought of it as protecting their feelings. By the time each of her children reached puberty, they asked her to stop covering for their father because it was of no importance to them. Pausing to collect her thoughts, and exhale a deep breath, she told Andy her children assured her that her love had been enough for them. Her voice was shaky when she said it, and tears sprang up in her eyes. He thought his heart would break for her when she revealed what her children had said. Andy couldn't fathom ever doing anything to cause her more pain than she'd already endured. He'd never understand why Jack treated his family with such disregard. Andy knew there were times he had been as bad a husband and father as Jack, but he'd spent a lot of time and effort making up for his mistakes. He'd vowed to himself to be the best husband to Sharon he could be, and the best father to the children, his and hers, he could be. It was also important to him to be there for the grandchildren he'd gained when his daughter had married a man with children. Being a grandfather had been an unexpected joy and he hoped to have many more grandkids in the future.
Bored with the movie, he looked away from the TV to her. She had fallen asleep. The opportunity to study her beautiful face without her knowledge was another rare occurrence. She looked soft and tender. Andy knew how soft and tender she actually was underneath the hard veneer she projected to the world. She hadn't had a choice in her line of work. Jack hadn't given her a choice either. She'd been forced to get tough when his drinking and then his gambling had grown out of control. Andy still found it remarkable how a woman who so loved rules and order at work had been married to a man who, for the most part, broke all the rules and contributed very little besides disorder to her life. Andy understood Sharon's Catholic faith provided the rules and order she sought for herself outside of work hours.
During the day, they'd been in the middle of investigating the murder of a high-profile, married bank executive and her lover. Per usual, Provenza stated, "It's always the husband." Andy had caught Sharon's eye and smirked in his normal fashion. That's when he noticed her face was flushed, and she didn't have the usual sparkle in her eyes. He knew she wouldn't want him to make a fuss in front of the team. Waiting until she left the Murder Room, he followed her into her office. "Are you okay? You don't look so hot."
Sitting down behind her desk, she didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached for a tissue and sneezed loudly before saying, "I have a headache." Their conversation ended abruptly when the phone on her desk rang. He left her office, and headed to the breakroom to prepare her favorite tea before stopping at his desk to get two Tylenol out of the drawer. She was still on the phone when he returned to her office and put the tea and Tylenol in front of her. She looked at him and mouthed a thank you before he went back to work.
Late in the afternoon, cleaning off the Murder Board with his back to the room, he heard her tell Provenza, "Looks like you were right this time." She sounded completely devoid of energy. Turning to look at her, he had to conceal his concern because she looked as if she might wilt. No one else seemed to notice. They were filling out paperwork, preparing to call it a day.
"Hey, don't sound so surprised," Provenza replied. "I'm right more often than not." Exchanging incredulous looks and a few sarcastic remarks with each other, the team had a good laugh before leaving for the day.
As they were headed home, Andy said, "Why don't we run you by the clinic first? I think you need to see a doctor."
"No, I just want to get home, take a hot bath, and go to bed."
Andy prepared dinner while she soaked in the tub. Rusty was busy studying in his room. He joined them at the dining room table when dinner was ready. Sharon had no appetite, but she took a few bites of ravioli in appreciation of Andy's efforts. After dinner, Rusty helped Andy clean up in the kitchen before heading to his room for more studying. Sharon headed to bed. Andy watched TV for a while before joining his wife in bed. He hadn't been asleep long when her coughing from the living room woke him.
The following morning, Rusty discovered them asleep on the couch when he went to the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal. They'd fallen asleep before Humphrey Bogart watched Ingrid Bergman get on the plane and fly away. Turning off the TV, Rusty turned and looked at the two people he lived with – his family. He hadn't liked either of them when he met them. He hadn't liked himself in those days. With little opportunity to experience much love in his life before meeting Sharon, he didn't even know what love was back then, but so much had changed. He now knew love and he knew that's what he was looking at when he saw the couple on the couch.
TBC
