By the next morning I knew there was no way that I could go into work. I'd managed to get little to no sleep during the night, and I was now curled under the blankets of my bed sweating and shivering. The frost on the windowpane seemed to have little effect upon my temperature. I was definitely sick.
In my previous job I would have pretended this sickness wasn't as bad as it seemed and dragged myself to work. But I wasn't there anymore, I felt secure in the idea that I wouldn't lose my job or my pay just because I needed to take a day off to regain my health. I reached to the nightstand for my ancient brick of a phone while I debated who to call. I found my immediate boss more than a little intimidating from the few brief conversations I had had with him; I wasn't sure that if I called him to request the day off work I would be able to stick to my resolve. It seemed to me that there was only one person I worked with that I trusted absolutely and who had the authority to grant my request. Rosalie answered on the third ring.
"Bella," She paused, clearly stifling a yawn. "What's up? It's like 6am, are you ok?"
"Rose, I'm sorry to wake you up." I mumbled, groaning slightly as I struggled to quell my shivering.
"Oh gosh Bella are you ok?!" She asked, clearly panicked.
"I'm fine Rose, I think its just flu. Would you be able to tell my boss that I'm taking the day off? There's no way I can make it all the way into Manhattan today."
"Of course. I'll tell him you need two days off, I insist it. If you think you'll need another day just tell me. There's really no point you coming in if you feel crappy."
If I had the energy, her kindness would have made me blush.
"I won't need two days off Rose, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay fine. You'll call me if theres anything else you need? There's nothing worse than being on your own when you're sick."
"I'll be okay, I just need to sleep for a day. See you tomorrow, thanks again."
"Hope you feel better. See you Bella."
I hang up the phone, roll over and burrow myself under the warm blankets.
The next time I open my eyes, it is mid-Afternoon and my already crappy feeling is joined by a parched dry throat and a desperate urge to pee. I take care of the bathroom first, pulling a large sweater over my pyjamas in place of my cosy blanket. Then I stumble to the kitchen and get myself a glass of water. I gulp it down way to fast and my stomach churns. I manage to shuffle back to the sink as it makes a reappearance. This time I pour myself another glass and take a small, slow sip, praying I can keep it down.
To say that my body aches is an understatement, I feel like I've just ran an entire marathon uphill. I'm exhausted so I drag myself back to the bed and crawl once more into the stale warmth of the blankets. I spend the next few hours staring at the ceiling and periodically taking careful sips of my water. Thankfully the nausea seems to have passed.
I'm continuing my days task of wallowing in self pity and trying not to move when theres a series of sharp bangs on my front door. I flinch, and decide to ignore them. But the person banging only knocks harder, and I force myself to roll out of the bed, taking the blankets with me and walk slowly to the door. I hope its not Edward. I tell myself, as I approach, the peep hole is too high for me to use without a struggle so I open the door, keeping the chain on and peek around.
There stood Rosalie and Emmett, there arms full of shopping bags. I let them in with as much of a smile as I could manage given how crappy I was feeling.
"Oh Bella, you look awful. Go get back into bed, Em and I came to take care of you." She says as she brushes past me and into the hallway. I do as I'm told and scuttle back to bed. I haven't told her where the kitchen is but, this apartment barely has five rooms, so I'm confident she'll find it.
Once I'm flopped safely back into bed I begin to hear the clanging of pots and pans and chopping sounds. I truly shocked. In six years I've never had anyone look after me whilst I've been sick, not one time. Well, save for the nurses in the hospital the day I had Antony but, I don't think that really counts for anything. I'm not sure how I should feel. I'm deeply grateful that Rose and Emmett came all the way out here for me of course but, its so far. They really didn't need to, I'm not their family. While I'm sitting there mulling over my confusion as to Rosalie and Emmett's sheer kindness, in walks Rose with a fresh glass of water in one hand and a bottle of gatorade in the other.
"Here Bella, sip these, thy should help you feel better." She smiles.
"Rose, you really don't have to do this you know."
"Shhh, what have I told you about friendship, friends help each other, friends take care of each other, so let me take care of you."
"You're too nice to me Rose, thank you." I say as I smile at her, I really am thankful and I really hope that she knows this.
"No problem Bella, you stay warm ok? I'll be back, I just have to make sure Emmett isn't burning the stew."
I take a sip of the gatorade and then the water and snuggle back under the blankets. Its been hours since I drank anything, and my parched throat feels more than a little relieved as I coat it in the soothing liquids. My eyelids suddenly feel heavy and I feel myself dozing off, still sitting propped up on my pillows.
The next thing I remember is Rose shaking my shoulder lightly. I blink up at her, for a moment I'm confused as to what she is doing here, the haze of sleep clouding my mind, then I remember.
"Dinners ready Bella, Nana Hale's vegetable stew. Theres nothing like it when you're sick. Did you want to eat it in here or in the living room?"
I take a few seconds to reply.
"Living room." I make attempts to get up out of bed.
"No stay here Bella, I'll get Em to carry you, don't worry." She touches my hand softly and goes to get Emmett.
He lifts me like I'm a rag doll, somehow managing to carry my blankets from the bed as well as me.
"Gosh Bella you're as light as a feather." He smiles at me, I know I'd be blushing right now if I wasn't so sick.
I've literally just been placed on the sofa and Rose is handing me a bowl of the vegetable stew, which has been spooned around a small serving of mashed potatoes.
"I thought chicken noodle soup was the norm for sick people." I smile at her.
"It usually is," Emmett replies. "But this stuff is legit."
"Yeah, my nana was English so, her family always made this. I honestly think its better than soup, its filling, its warm, the ultimate comfort food." Rose tells me as she sits next to me, with Emmett taking the armchair.
I try a bite of the stew and its honestly delicious. I spoon an even bigger bite into my mouth before I remind myself of the earlier water incident and force myself to take smaller, slower bites.
"God Rose this is incredible! You have to teach me how to make this." I smile in honesty, its truly delicious, the kind of food that makes you feel like you're recovering after only a few bites.
"I made a big pot so you should have left overs for tomorrow. But I don't know Bella, I don't give up Nana's secret recipe so easily." She jokes.
"How about a trade then?"
"Go on." Rose raises her eyebrows.
"The stew recipe for my ultimate peanut butter chocolate cookie recipe."
"Bella, you've got yourself a deal."
We chuckle and go back to our eating. Before I can blink my bowl is empty.
"That was really something Rose, Em, thanks so much."
"Don't mention it Bella." Emmett smiles, taking my empty bowl and Rose's and heading to the kitchen.
"You rest up Bella, we'll clean up."
I'm finally warm, for the first time today, and I feel myself tumbling slowly to sleep again. When I wake up this time, Emmett is placing me and my blankets back into bed as Rose fluffs up the pillows.
"Rose?" I mumble.
"Shh Bella, go back to sleep. Everything's all clean in the kitchen, the leftovers are in the fridge. Sleep up and call me tomorrow, let me know how you're feeling, ok?"
I nod. "Thanks guys." I mutter as I roll back over and go back to sleep.
By the next morning I'm feeling much, much better. I notice a glass of water on my nightstand and I gulp it down. The clock tells me that its only 6:30, I still have plenty of time to get to work, so I go and hop in the shower, I can't really afford to take another day off. The hot water feels incredible, whatever I had yesterday, I'm definitely over it. I drop Rose a text thanking her again for yesterday and telling her that I'm feeling better as I walk down the street to the subway.
I'm already near the office when I get Rose's reply.
Glad you're feeling better Bella. :) Lets do lunch! I'm free at 1 so I'll swing by your desk then. x
Lunch with Rose seems to have become a tradition, but I smile anyway. She's the first genuine friend I've had in years and if yesterday has shown me nothing, it's that I'm truly lucky to have someone like her. I quickly reply giving lunch the go ahead and continue down the street to work.
I'm smiling as I waltz into the lobby and go and wait for the elevator. It seems to be my lucky day, I've been there for less than thirty seconds before I hear the ping of the doors opening. I follow the other people inside and secure the spot in the front left of the elevator by the buttons.
The doors are just closing when a man in a pristine gray suit squeezes himself inside.
"39th floor, please." The man says, and I press it obediently before turing to look at his face. Edward glares back at me.
I suck in a breath of air. I can feel my cheeks reddening. His eyes are fixed on me, his gaze unescapable in the confined space. I spend the first few seconds of the ride trying to look anywhere but at him.
Mercifully the elevator stops, and as he moves out of the way of the doors, I reposition myself facing away from him. The reprieve is short lived though. He manages to squeeze right next to me. Looking at me, like a hawk might watch a rabbit.
"You weren't at work yesterday." His whispers, but the proximity of his voice catches me off guard. I flinch away.
"I was sick…" I mumble. Trying to keep the conversation brief.
His eyes rake over my face again. I hold my breath.
"You do look a little flushed." He says.
Then the elevator announces '36th floor', and Edward Cullen walks out of the doors. A small smile on his face. And in that moment I cant tell if I want to kill him or to kiss him.
The rest of the week is better, and worse. Its better because I manage to kick whatever illness had kept me in bed all of Tuesday, and because I find out I am eligible for a Christmas bonus, albeit a small one. Its worse because Edward never contacts me to arrange our plan for Thanksgiving, and I spend the entire week flinching at every email, text, and call, expecting it to be him.
By Saturday morning I figure he's forgotten all about his plan to meet Antony, either that or he doesn't care. Charlotte calls, inviting me to her friend's gallery opening that evening, but I decline. I've had a stressful week, more so than most. I want nothing more than to curl up somewhere with a good book and a hot cup of strong black coffee. I spend a good ten or so minutes staring at my own meagre bookshelf but I've read everything there too often. I decide to head to the library instead.
Walking through the door way I'm immediately hit with an aura of calm. The smell of old books, a scent so familiar to me. I give an audible sigh, standing still in the doorway just soaking in the smell. Someone decides then to barge right into me. Its an elderly lady.
"Watch out." She all but yells at me as she walks past.
I just shuffle out of the way of the door and towards the new fiction section, holding my tongue. Sometimes its best not to say anything.
I spend around twenty minutes staring intently at the bookcase where the library's new arrivals are deposited. Its a small local one, and the choice isn't large, but there are a couple of books that I've wanted to read for a while. I have two in my hands already, and am just trying to settle on a third when I feel a vibration inside my bag.
My cellphone.
I fumble with the boys in holding and the clasp of my bag, trying to get to it before it starts ringing but its useless. My face turns a deep beetroot red. The silence of the library shattered by the seemingly thunderous beeping of my ringtone.
I don't even look at whose calling, pressing the mute button on the keypad immediately and mumbling a flustered "sorry" to the man next to me. Across the room someone tuts at me, so I abandon my quest for a third book and take the two I've chosen to the desk to check out in a cloud of embarrassment.
It wasn't until I was safely outside in the chilly November air that glanced at my phone and, seeing the unfamiliar number, hit redial. He answers on the third ring.
"Isabella." Theres a pause, as if he is unsure what to say next. "Thank you, for returning my call."
The calmness of his tone shocks me. I don't respond. Is this the same man who was so rude and calculating and controlling to me in his office on Monday?
"I'm sorry I did not contact you sooner. I was called out of town on business."
"Its…err, okay?" I reply.
"So Thursday, Thanksgiving. What time should I be there?"
The question throws me a little, I hadn't anticipated Edward turning up for the meal, figuring he would turn up afterward, in the evening.
"We usually eat around three, during the game." I say, sounding unsure of myself. My heartbeat is pounding from our conversation, I have no idea how I'm going to manage sitting in the same room as him for hours.
"Excellent. May I bring dessert?"
"Sure."
A heavy silence settles between us. I don't know what else to say to the man, he still scares me.
"He likes pumpkin pie." I tell him.
"I'll be there at two." He tells me, and then he hangs up.
I stay where I am, leaning against the wall of the library, unable to move. The shift in Edward's attitude towards me is magnanimous, and I can't explain it. My palms are sweating in spite of the cold.
"I need a drink." I mumble to myself, turning away from home and heading towards a small coffeeshop that I know is only a few streets away. I know I'm supposed to be saving money, getting Antony back here with me as fast as I can, but I need a pick me up. The phone call has left me lightheaded and woozy. A feeling that I am certain isn't helped by my many years of restricted portions and skipping meals. I approach the counter, and order the largest sugary latte on the menu. Then I sit myself in the comfiest armchair the place has to offer and spend the rest of the afternoon reading, trying to forget all about Edward Cullen.
