At around four in the morning, I woke in a pool of sweat, my body stuck to the sheets and my face glued to the bed.
I guess the fever was definitely broken.
I placed my hands on the bed to push myself up, but my equilibrium must have been off. My bed felt uneven. I reached back, fumbling for the lamp and flicked the light on. Then because I thought maybe I was seeing things, I flipped it off and on again. I pinched myself. I pinched really hard. But nothing changed.
Lisa was definitely asleep in my bed.
Shit.
Shit.
How much of my fever-induced dream was real? I felt safe assuming that my time as a bee was fiction, as well as a few mythological animals that I swear I'd seen. Then I'd lived on the sun with aliens.
But Lisa was in my bed. She'd definitely been in my dreams, but it couldn't all be real. Sometimes she flew, much of the time she was naked. And there were a dozen more moments, some fuzzy, some very clear. Where was the line? What had really happened? Hell, was this even real? Maybe I was just dreaming that my fever broke. I was freaking out, and before I had the sense of mind to formulate a plan, I was already shaking her awake.
She was bleary-eyed and beautiful as she came to. I was struck for a moment by the fact that she was sleeping on my pillow.
She was in my bed. With me.
Sleeping.
We were sleeping together!
"You're awake." God, since when did groggy and gorgeous go so well together? Wide-eyed, I nodded, not having thought of what I'd say when I actually had her awake.
"How do you feel?"
That I could answer.
"Like shit. Everything hurts. My throat the worst."
She reached out and set a hand on my thigh. Like that was normal. Like we just set our hands on each other's thighs all the time.
"That's normal, I think," She said. The thigh thing? No, no… my throat. She continued, "Do you need anything?"
I shook my head. What the hell had happened while I was so out of it?
She sat up, and the sheet fell around her waist, revealing all of her upper body to my eyes. The sheet drooped around her hips, drawing my eyes to the muscles that disappeared down into her shorts. God. Her hand went to my hair, my hair that fell lank, and oily against my face, a stark contrast to how good she looked right now. She didn't seem to care.
Again, what the hell was happening?
"I'm glad you're okay," she said.
I nodded. Nodding was all I knew how to do, all I understood. Nodding, at least, still made sense.
"You should go back to sleep. You still need to rest. Unless you're hungry?"
I shook my head.
"Then sleep."
She nudged me slightly, and I lowered my body slowly, certain that the minute my head hit the pillow this alternate universe would cease to exist.
It didn't.
She pushed back the covers, and then slipped out of the bed.
"You're leaving?" I asked.
She stopped, and in quick succession I saw her realize where we were and how little she was wearing. She hesitated, unsure. It was such a strange emotion, one I'd rarely seen her wear. "Do you want me to?" I wanted to pause the moment, study it, break down the second where this bold girl had been filled with doubt. Of course I didn't want her to leave! I never wanted her to leave!
I shook my head. Glad that fatigue kept me calm, somewhat.
She smiled so wide I forgot that the doubt ever existed. "Then I'm not leaving. I'm just going to get some water. Go to sleep."
She left, and I turned on my side, reeling. I could hear the faucet turn on and off. I tried to imagine what she was doing. The floor wasn't creaking, so she wasn't walking back. Was she just standing at the sink drinking? Or was there no creaking because my delusion had ended and she wasn't coming back? Had the floor creaked on her way to the sink? I couldn't remember. I started to panic. Maybe I needed to get up, go after her. Make sure she was real.
Then my bed dipped, and I felt heat behind me, and an arm wrapped around my waist. I stiffened first, and then relaxed so suddenly that I practically fell into her. She was so warm, I felt like I was feverish all over again.
She pushed my hair up and onto the pillow, so that my neck was uncovered. Then I felt something, the tip of her nose perhaps, grazing softly against my skin and the puff of her breath.
"Lisa?"
Her arm tightened, her body curved around mine, even our thighs pressed together.
"Tomorrow, Jennie. Sleep now."
Sleep? The idea seemed impossible, but as her breath steadied and I grew used to her touch, I realized I was still tired. I wanted to analyze what had happened, what I remembered and what I didn't, but sleep did seem more important.
Lisa was right. It could wait until tomorrow. She would be here. She said she wasn't leaving. But just in case, I placed one of my hands over hers that rested against my stomach. I had thought she was already asleep, but she was awake enough to respond, lacing our fingers together.
When I felt certain, both that she was real and that she wasn't leaving… when my doubt was gone, I slept.
I woke several hours later. Light was pouring in through my high windows, and my skin was slick with sweat. For a moment, I thought I had a fever again. I sat up, and Lisa's arm fell from my waist. She groaned.
Her brows were furrowed with beads of sweat dotting her face. I pressed my hand against her forehead, and sure enough, she was burning up. She looked awful, but I imagined that I looked even worse. My skin and clothes were damp with sweat, both her and mine. It felt like grime and sickness was slathered over the top of my skin.
Carefully, I shifted out of Lisa's reach and planted my feet on the cool hardwood floor. Standing hurt all the way to my bones, like they'd been broken and set in the wrong way, and now I had to re-break them to set it right. Each step felt like a nail gun had been taken to my heels, my knees, my hips. It took a hand on the wall just to keep myself upright. And my journey to the bathroom comprised of thirty slow, shuffling steps instead of the usual ten. When I got there, I was short of breath and ready for another nap.
In my pain-addled mind, it seemed very important to be clean first. I turned on the shower, leaving it on the cool side of the spectrum instead of automatically pushing it to hot like usual. I shucked off my clothes, lamenting each time I got off one piece only to discover another layer beneath. When I got to my bra, I nearly gave up completely.
Finally, I was free, but I no longer had the energy to stand for the shower I wanted. Like a child just learning to walk, I crawled into the tub, laying back and letting the water pelt my skin. My stomach, especially, felt so sensitive that each drop stung on impact, like someone was dropping tiny little missiles from above. But even so, it was cool and lovely and I melted into the sensation.
For a long time I laid there, falling in and out of sleep. When my breath settled and the ache in my muscles eased, I pushed myself up, letting the water soak my hair and run down my face.
Shampoo became the villain of my story, stinging my eyes and exhausting me as I tried to rub it in and rinse it out. It felt like hours before the water ran clear enough for me to open my eyes without them burning. And then I couldn't convince myself to do it again with conditioner.
I turned off the water, and laid back, feeling the water drain beneath me. The longer my eyes stayed closed the heavier my body became. The little pools of liquid on my skin dried slowly, and it felt good to be empty, to be still for a moment.
Then I remembered Lisa, and knew I had been selfish long enough.
The wall of the tub might as well have been a battlement. It took all of my strength to climb over it. Clothing was completely out of the question. I wrapped my hair in a towel and my body in a robe. I grabbed a few washcloths, soaking them with cool water, wringing them out so they wouldn't drip.
I felt a little more alive now, and I managed to walk without groping at the wall. The pain was there, in the back of my mind with every step, but it was manageable. Even so, it was a relief to sink down beside Lisa on my bed.
I stripped the blankets back, and she shifted, but didn't wake. I placed one of the damp cloths across her forehead, and another I unfolded and laid across her chest. I used the last to dab at her arms and legs. Even that became too difficult though, so I rolled the last cloth up and slipped it beneath her neck.
Then I laid down beside her and slept.
The next time we woke together. Her fever was still going, but I convinced her to drink some water. It wasn't until I took a drink myself that I realized how thirsty I was. I helped her drink a full glass, and then engulfed two of my own. I had enough energy to shuck my thick robe and replace it with loose pajamas. I placed a new damp cloth on Lisa's forehead and she sighed.
"Thank you," she mumbled.
I wasn't sure how coherent she was. She definitely knew I was here, as she'd called out my name a few times since she woke. And she knew she was sick, but I didn't know how much she knew beyond that.
"You're welcome. But to be fair, you did take care of me first."
Her eyes were closed, but she smiled. "You're better at it."
"It doesn't matter," I said. "It was just nice not to be alone."
She tried to shift onto her side to face me, but ended up just reaching with her arms, her body still flat. I wrapped an arm around her chest, and pulled, Her arms went around me and pulled, too, so that she ended up on her side and much closer to me.
When she was settled, she breathed out, exhausted by the little movement. She said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
Needing help? She seemed much stronger and better off than I had been.
"For leaving you alone at all. For getting between you and Kai. For being too stubborn to tell you I missed you. I'm sorry."
I was confused, the pieces of the puzzle not quite fitting. But I heard what mattered, she was sorry and I was sorry, too. And my brain was too fuzzy to remember all the details of why this shouldn't be happening. I pulled her to me and her head fell into the crook of my neck. I breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in months. I wanted to ask her about the phone call, about our fight, about everything. But she was still murmuring "sorry," again and again into my neck, and it didn't really matter.
I held her tighter, and together, we weathered the sickness and sleep.