Chapter 6

Somehow Larry got Charlie up and moving back toward Don's bed. Charlie collapsed onto it in a sitting position and would have continued to melt, had Larry not grabbed an arm, effectively preventing further movement. "Charles, let me look at you," he said.

Charlie gazed up at him. It was time for the wounded puppy look. That always got him what he wanted. "Lemmee sleep," he begged.

Larry raised a hand to his head and scratched. "I don't know, Charles, the soup is warm now…"

Charlie smiled a little. "Dad made soup? Granma's?"

Larry lowered his hand to cover his mouth, then seemed to decide something and sat next to Charlie on the bed. "Charles." He spoke as gently as he could. "You're ill. You remember that Alan is gone, right?"

He could feel a shudder pass through Charlie, and he waited for his friend to speak. It took quite a while, and Larry was beginning to think he had fallen asleep sitting up. Finally, he simply said, "Oday," which Larry interpreted as "Okay".

"I brought some soup from the deli. Do you think you could eat some?"

"Oday," Charlie said again, and Larry stood and left the room, returning almost immediately with a styrofoam cup of soup, and the pharmacy bag.

He took the lid off the cup and placed it carefully in Charlie's hands. "This is a rich chicken broth, you can just drink it. Do you have it, Charles?" Charlie nodded, and Larry let go. He fumbled with the pharmacy bag. Opening it, he peered inside, as if its contents were secret, and finally drew out a bottle of Tylenol. Charlie sipped his soup and watched Larry work diligently for a few seconds on the child-proof cap. "Oh, dear. The manufacturers of this medication seem to have found a way to defy the laws of physics."

Charlie snorted into his soup and started coughing, which made his head near implosion. He thrust the cup back at Larry. "Done," he said, and his tone would have brooked no argument if he hadn't sounded like a two-year-old girl. He raised shaking hands to either side of his curls. "My heb," he said miserably, letting it sink towards his chest. "Hurbs."

Larry tilted his own head. "Herbs? I purchased this product for your fever and headache, Charles, but I can't seem to open it, so it you know of some herbs Don keeps in the apartment, we can try those."

Charlie raised his head again to look at his hero – the man who was here obstensibly to help him. Later, when he felt better, he would appreciate the thought. Now, Charlie considered throwing up on him. He wasn't particularly nauseous, but he could probably manage to bring the soup back up. He thrust out a hand and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from Larry. Eyes slightly unfocused, he still managed to line up the arrows and flip the red top off.

"Oh, my…" Larry was looking at the bottle with a mixture of relief and apprehension. "That was impressive. Yet there seems to be another barrier to overcome."

Charlie looked down, expecting cotton, and instead saw one of the newer tamper-proof lid seals. He took a deep breath to sigh, and instead had another coughing fit. Larry stood awkwardly over him. He looked at the cup of soup he still clutched and frowned. His free hand approached his chin. "Perhaps something to drink, Charles?"

Charlie nodded while he coughed, and Larry happily left the room again. When he reappeared it was with a glass of water. He seemed inordinately proud of himself. He offered it to Charlie, who had pierced the Tylenol seal with a fingernail and ripped it off, and had three waiting in his hand. He drank almost half the glass of water and placed it on the bedside table. He began listing toward the pillow. "Tangs," he said, watching Larry rummage through the pharmacy bag again.

This time, the physicist drew out a bottle of liquid. He held it up for Charlie's inspection. "For your cough," he explained. "The pharmacist recommended it. Would you like some?"

Charlie started imagining another run-in with a child-proof cap, and as much as he would have liked some, he shook his head. "Ull jus sleeb dow," he intoned.

Larry looked a little disappointed to be denied the battle, but he put the bottle down on the table. Then he regarded Charlie as if he were a science experiment.

"Whad?" said Charlie irritably.

Larry scratched his head. "Do you require assistance with your clothing?"

Charlie almost laughed again, but remembered what happened the last time. If he ever had occasion to go trolling for girls in bars, he'd remember that line. "Uh goddid," he managed. "U don hab do day."

Larry peered at him. "Excuse me?"

Charlie tried again. "Um allrid dow. U cn go hob."

Larry brightened. "Oh! I believe I got it that time. No, no, Charles, I promised Don I would stay, and I intend to." His face suddenly softened. "Your brother is very worried about you. I believe he feels – vulnerable, right now."

Charlie didn't answer, or even look at him. Larry could see his eyes drooping. "Well. I did bring my lap top – it's out in the car. If you're all right preparing yourself for bed, I'll just go get it."

Charlie nodded silently and Larry smiled, relieved. "Yes. All right, then." He headed for the door again.

While he was gone, Charlie managed to get himself to the bathroom, where he changed into his sweats and t-shirt, only almost falling twice. After using his last ounce of energy to brush his teeth, he threw open the door to find Larry hovering in the hall. He looked decidedly less relieved, bordering on guilty. He walked slightly behind Charlie back to the bed. "I'm afraid I'm not very experienced at this sort of thing," he finally said. "Please tell me what I can do."

Charlie lay down, and clutched at a blanket with his hand. He closed his eyes. "Ur dooin graad," he said tiredly. "Turn obb da lide?" When that didn't happen right away, Charlie, without opening his eyes, pointed a hand at the ceiling. "Da lide," he repeated, and he heard Larry's quick intake of comprehension.

"Oh, yes, of course. The light. Well. Good-night, Charles. Feel better. I'll be in the living room, if you need anything."

With that, the room finally dimmed, and Charlie heard Larry walking away.

He lay in Don's bed, and a feeling of melancholy overtook him. While he waited for sleep, he knew that the one thing he needed, Larry couldn't give him.

Charlie wanted his daddy.