KP – The Light at the End: Part 36
Some people are put on this Earth who don't take very well to being sick. Some of them, like Kim, were that way because it was something in the way. They felt like they weren't living up to their own personal expectations and blamed their bodies for betraying them. They either wanted or needed to prove they could do everything they normally did, even at the expense of making themselves that much worse.
Others were simply so miserable they couldn't even function.
For Ron it was even worse because his usual boast of high resistance to illness really wasn't all that idle. He could count on one hand how many times he had felt that bad, and not all of those came because of a cold or flu. Then too, he had never really learned how to deal with such infirmity.
To say the cold hit him like a ton of bricks was putting it mildly. In the span of time between the first sneeze and Kim's shooing him to the bed he felt all of the strength go out of his body. Even with the horrible congestion, the headaches and the burgeoning fever, he quickly fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. It was one of those cases where he lay there for a time, thinking just how wasteful it was to lie in bed like that on a Friday night, especially since they were free and clear of any extra work for the weekend. It was a night they should have gone out, possibly eating at Pizza Shack, then going to a movie or dancing, just like they had tried to do on that night for the entirety of their relationship together, and many times even before that. Friday and Saturday were supposed to be 'date nights.'
None of that really mattered since his body was pretty much shutting down to allow him to fight the infection. He was feeling so poorly that he only had the energy to pick up the TV remote and hold it, not even touching the power button to turn on the smaller flat-screen Kim allowed him to set up in there. He just let his head fall back on the pillow, wondering if there was anything to watch that night.
One thing that did occupy his mind was whether Kim would catch his cold. There hadn't been much chance for romance over the last few nights, save for some nice moments just before they went to sleep, but that didn't matter. They were still very affectionate and since the room tended to be a bit on the cool side, they always slept cuddled up together, unlike the summer month when they would each stake out their own portion of the bed. If something had gotten through his 'Stoppable fortress of immunity' it was bound to get her as well.
He got his answer long after he had fallen into a deep, fever-dream addled sleep when he was awakened by her slipping under the covers with her and proceeding to spend most of the night repeatedly sneezing, leading him to make a few comments that he later hoped would just be put off as him being grumpy because of his illness.
At least she wasn't blaming him for giving her his cold. At least not yet.
Ron did manage to fall asleep again, but not as deeply as he had before. He remained on the edge of true slumber, all the while drifting in and out of strange, barely describable dreams that all seemed to incorporate feeling hot and wet, and never in a good way. At one point he thought Kim was trying to cuddle with him, seeking some form of comfort, but that just wasn't going to work. She was at least as hot and sweaty as he was and he found himself doing something that would be unthinkable under normal circumstance. He ended up pushing her away, then wrapping himself up in his portion of the covers. She didn't even wake him to take back her share of the comforter when he proceeded to mummify himself in it.
That all made him feel strange and awkward. He wanted her touch as much as she wanted his, but given how he was feeling he just couldn't stand it that night. That led him back to lying there, wishing they were out somewhere, maybe braving the cold January night holding hands in Middleton Park, or listening to bad 'artful' poetry at one of the funky coffee places that ringed the campus. Of course, even with his compromised ability to reason, he knew that wasn't nearly as pleasant as it seemed. The 'white Christmas' had been washed away by three days of nearly constant rain, with the temperature hovering in the mid-forties. It turned really cold again once the weather cleared up, freezing the ground at night but never quite letting everything dry out properly. A trip to the park would be an exercise in being too cold, not having anywhere to sit so they could snuggle and trade Eskimo kisses, and perhaps even running the risk of discovering a nice patch of black ice on a sidewalk somewhere. He had already broken his wrist once that way, almost precisely four years earlier.
He pondered that early, almost innocent time with her as he slipped back into his dreams. Familiar scenes mixed together in his subconscious, creating a dream-world that was oddly uncomfortable, in spite of the accustomed images.
Ron barely woke up when Kim's mother came to check on him. He wasn't even sure if that was real, or just another peculiar image his mind saw fit to dredge up as he lay in a pool of his own sweat in the bed.
Mrs Dr P. Mom P. Anne. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to call her. Mom was Mom, so calling her that just seemed…off. Kim had grown comfortable calling his parents by their first names, pretty much at their insistence, but he knew he really could never do that. Certain people would always be 'the adults' to him. James Possible was always going to be Mr Dr P, or just Dr P when it was just the two of them. Anne Possible was just going have to settle for Mom P, since she always corrected him when he tried calling her Mrs Dr P. He just couldn't bring himself to call her just 'Mom.'
It was pretty much the same as the fact that he would probably go to his grave calling his one-time teacher 'Mr Barkin,' no matter how old he got himself. It was partially respect, but mostly because calling the large man 'Steve' just seemed wrongsick.
Kim came back to bed for a little while, but that apparently didn't last any longer than it took for her mother to leave. That was just enough to remind him that certain other parts of his body were working like they were supposed to, especially with the amount of orange juice he had choked down since the night before. He took one step into the bathroom and stopped cold.
The room was…clean.
It wasn't that they lived like a couple of slobs, but some rather labor intensive jobs got pushed to the wayside. Things like scrubbing the tub until it gleamed white. The towels, which normally were stacked semi-folded on a small stainless steel wire shelf, were folded with almost mechanical precision, with two of them draped nicely over the towel rack. Their toiletries were arranged neatly on the counter and on the tank of the toilet. Even their toothbrushes, which normally resided in the soap-shaped indentation near the faucet were sitting in a stoneware cup. If it had been an earlier age, when such implements had narrow handles, they would have been put into the small rectangular slots on the higher soap dish (neither soap dish had been used since they had bottles of scented, antibacterial liquid soap instead.)
More alert than he had been earlier, he wandered out into the apartment. Kim was curled up on the couch, wrapped in the afghan, finally getting some restful sleep. If it had been any other sitch, he would have been a little bummed by that, since she normally professed an inability to sleep properly without him. He took a moment and just looked at her. Her hair needed brushing and her nose was still glistening, but she looked so peaceful resting there, the throw pillow scrunched under her head, almost hidden by the mass of her auburn hair.
As lovely as she looked to him like that, it was the apartment itself that had his full attention.
Ron had never learned neat, not in the way he dressed, nor in the way he lived. Almost every level surface had a tendency to get cluttered up with stuff, to the point it sometimes was hard to find a place to put a drink down. There were usually a couple sets of plates on the coffee table, with glasses, empty bottles and a couple cans sitting on the end tables. Books were often stacked haphazardly on their desk, with the only clear spot where the wireless mouse sat. The space under the coffee table was usually home to at least one pair of his sneakers.
Ever since they had been together, habits, both good and bad, had rubbed off on each other. Kim already had the habit of throwing both clean and dirty clothes on the floor, so it really wasn't that much of a reach that she would pick up on his more slovenly traits. Coupled with the fact they did spend an enormous amount of time on their studies, there really wasn't all that much time for housework. They mostly did just enough to get by like a pair of civilized adults, though they almost always had to resort to an intensive cleaning fest whenever they were expecting company.
All of that had changed.
Of his shoes, there was no sign. He always slipped them off sitting on the couch once they were home for the evening, one pair often joining the pair that had been left there the night before. Kim never complained, since she had long ago gotten his doctor to give him something truly effective for his toenail fungus. Somehow he suspected the shoes were not only in his room, but arranged very neatly in the cubby hole of their walk-in closet. The books were all sitting neatly on their shelf, the spines arranged so the titles were visible. The dishware was completely gone from the den/living-room and it wasn't in the sink either.
The place was clean. Not only clean looking, but clean smelling as well.
It didn't take him long to realize what had happened. Kim's mother had not only come to check on her sick children, she had cleaned. It was almost as if they were back living in Kim's house, a place that looked almost like a show home constantly because of Anne Possible's ministrations.
How long was he out?
He tried to check his watch, but he didn't have it on. The sun wasn't much help, since it had turned gray and overcast outside, matching much of the way he was actually still feeling. He finally had to go into the kitchen and look at the microwave.
It was three in the afternoon.
Ron still didn't feel all that well. Apparently his fever had broken, but he was left feeling incredibly drained and his head felt like it was twice its normal diameter. That was perhaps the worst of it. His father had to take eye drops to keep glaucoma in check, so as a precaution his doctor told him never to take decongestant tablets. That he was protecting his slightly weak eyesight was cold comfort with his nose stuffed up so bad. He wasn't coughing, so that left taking some aspirin and heading back to bed, a thought he didn't relish since he had been up long enough for the sweat-soaked sheets to get really cold.
Opening the fridge to get a glass of orange juice, he found the note.
Kim
I've made up some light meals for the three of you. I'm sure Catherine Jean won't feel much like eating, but make sure she gets something down anyway. Get plenty of rest and don't forget your fluids. I'm going to come by this evening to check on you again, so don't forget what I told you about the Medical Center.
Love Mom.
Ron pounded his forehead lightly on the edge of the fridge. He had utterly and completely forgotten his sister was with them, along with the fact that the note itself made it sound like she had the cold too. How could he forget about her like that? Sure, he wasn't the one experienced in babysitting small children, but she was his sister. What would happen if it was his own child?
Urk. That wasn't a thought he really wanted to have, at least not quite yet. As responsible as he had become over the last few years, that was a paradigm shift in his life he truly wasn't ready for, and neither was Kim. With the exception of the last month, at the end of the day CJ would go home with her parents, leaving the two of them alone, as things should be at that point in their lives. He had quite enough of the diaper changes and all that baby stuff when she was little, without having to do it constantly himself. Thank goodness he hadn't had to deal with the late-night feedings, her colic phase, or anything else except the few nights both of them stayed at his house while his parents were away during that period.
Ron had no illusions that he had a great deal more growing up to do.
About that moment he realized he could hear something. His ears were just as stopped up as his nose, so the sound didn't hit him at first, but he soon figured out it was singing…
…a child singing.
He took CJ's lunch from the fridge and warmed it a couple minutes in the microwave. He wanted some of the chicken soup Mom P had made for him as well, but somehow he knew his sister should come first. He carefully took her bowl and made his way to her room, fully expecting to see her lying in Kim's old bed, with the TV continuously playing that one DVD she watched over and over.
Ron's eyes flew open when he opened the door and spotted her.
CJ was still in the bed, or, more accurately, she was on it. Her Brittina Fantasy House was sitting there open, with several of her fashion dolls doing what a three-year-old would consider 'playing house.' The singing didn't come from the television, though it was on with the sound turned down. Instead, the little girl was softly singing to herself as she tried figuring out how to put a puffy pink camel-neck sweater on Brittina herself.
"I thought you were all sick there, squirt." He said, putting the tray down on the old round night stand from Kim's house. There in the cramped little extra bedroom he couldn't see the places where it had been glued back together from when Kim had smashed it after an especially bad spat between the two of them.
"I was. Docta Mom said I got a cold, but the angel made it all better." She finished getting the top onto the figure, though it still needed pants. "See, isn't Britty all pretty?"
"You should see the real one." Ron grimaced slightly. The pop singer was his age, but apparently had done more living in the last couple years than he could have imagined. It wasn't surprising, given her antics, that most of her wholesome 'girl-next-door' 'bubblegum princess' image had sloughed away. Still, there were plenty of little girls just like his sister who still idolized what the entertainer had once been. It helped that her doll continued looking just fifteen and didn't spend her nights carousing with no-talent pretty boys, or getting married not once, but twice in the span of one year.
"An angel made you better?"
"Yeah. She woke me up and told me I was a pretty little girl, then she did something with her hand and made me fall back to sleep. When I woke up, I was all better!"
Ron would have sighed if his head wasn't so clogged up. Maybe this cold wasn't going to be so bad after all. It did hit him pretty quickly, so perhaps it was one of those bugs that burned brightly for about twenty-four hours, then went away, leaving them just a tad weaker for their trouble. That would be good, since they both had a ton of work waiting for them Monday morning.
"You hungry, squirt?"
"Uh huh!" she scooted across the bed, grabbing the bowl and hungrily spooning the mushy noodles into her mouth."
Ron shook his head as he rinsed the empty bowl out in the kitchen sink. It was kind of funny thinking that an angel helped her out like that. It's certainly be badical if she was still hanging around and could give him and Kim some of that same help.
As it was, there was no getting around it. He still felt like crap. He woke Kim up and they shared the rest of the "Jewish Penicillin" (which was funny since it was made by a Lutheran raised as a Catholic – but still darn good.) They tried watching some afternoon movies, but they were both so wasted by their colds, they ended up going to bed right after Kim's Mom stopped by to check on them.
The fever hadn't completely broken, and he still had some rather vivid dreams.
Kim woke up smiling softly, though the dream she was having slipped deeply into her subconscious the moment she was fully awake. The smile didn't fade when she took a deep breath and realized she was doing it with her nose.
At first she thought the vaporizer her mother had set up in the room had done its job, but it had long ago shut off, having run out of water and it never seemed to help that much in the past. She sat up in bed and took another very deep breath, letting it out slowly.
It was only three in the morning, yet she felt as refreshed as if she had slept through the night until her usual hour of six.
She sat like that for many minutes, marveling at how much better she felt than when they finally lay down to sleep. It was almost as if…
…no, there hadn't been any angels wandering around their home, no matter what CJ prattled on about. It was just like Ron said as they heated up the last of the chicken soup for supper. It was just a short-term bug that rampaged through their systems for a day, then left to do its dirty work with some other poor unfortunate soul.
Turning her lamp on at its lowest setting, she looked over at Ron. He was lying on his back with his mouth open, but there were no bubbles forming in his nostrils any more. His arms and legs were splayed at haphazard angles, but that was pretty much how he slept on a regular basis. It was clear he was a good deal more comfortable than he had been the night before.
Maybe it was the early morning hours, or maybe just a slight aftereffect of the cold, but she was feeling a bit romantic. Friday and Saturday had passed without a chance for their traditional date nights, but if the cold had fled both of them, maybe something could be salvaged of the lost weekend. It was still clear that both of them could use a good shower, but they had been together long enough that it really didn't matter all that much. To her, 'Eau de Ron' could be as potent as any expensive cologne.
She nestled up against him, throwing an arm over his chest. She studied his face in the dim light for a while, playing with loose strands of his hair. Finally, dragging her fingernails lightly across his chest, she whispered in his ear.
"Ronnie, you awake?"
"MmmmHmmm." He moaned. She could tell from his breathing that her attentions had intruded on his slumber, but he just lay there for a while enjoying her attentions.
Snuggling closer, she sat up slightly. "How awake are you?"
"Awake enough." He rolled onto his side, facing her, wrapping his free arm around her waist.
There were no candles lit, or soft music playing, nor were either of them wearing any of the special nightwear they owned for such occasions, but it was everything both of them wanted. He was slow and gentle, as if there were some lingering weakness from their illnesses, but she somehow understood that wasn't really the case.
Afterwards, they curled up, much the same way they were before. Both of them were wide awake at that point, but neither much wanted to get up since it was still pretty cold outside of the bed.
"Maybe there's something to what CJ was saying this afternoon." He whispered, slowly dragging his fingertips across her shoulder.
"The angel thing? So not."
"So-so. Maybe there is somebody looking out for us. See, I was having this dream, and I was with this girl…"
Kim sat up with a slight start. "You're dreaming about some girl?"
"Nah, it wasn't like that. You know you're the only one I dream about like that."
"Uh huh. Go on, buster, what about this…girl?"
"Well, just like CJ said, it was like I woke up and she was there. She messed with my hair a little, just like you're doing now."
"You sure that wasn't just me doing that before you woke up?"
"Well, uh, maybe, but then she put her hand on my forehead and the fever-dreams just stopped. Next thing I knew, you were messing with my pajama top and I realized I could actually breath normal."
Kim let herself back down on the pillow, pulling the comforter up around both their shoulders. The afterglow, or 'deep sleep potion' as they sometimes called it, was starting to take effect. Rested as she had been earlier, she knew it was highly unlikely they would be heading to church in the morning. That was just fine with her, since CJ would gripe about going since she had decided she was one hundred percent Jewish, or as much as a three-year-old could grasp such a thing.
Sleep almost claimed her when her eyes snapped back open again. Being just on the cusp of slipping back into a dream brought the old one surging back into her mind.
"Oh my God." She gasped, sitting up quickly, not noticing the cold air on her bare back.
"What is it?" Ron put a hand on her leg, giving it a light squeeze. "You forget to take something yesterday morning?"
"No, uh, er, crap, I did, but that's not it."
He got up on his elbows. "So, round two?"
"Get your head in the game, Ron, I just realized something."
"What? It's double-coupon day at Smarty Mart?"
"No. I think I know who stole the MPG!"
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