Chapter 11

XXXXXXX

Sam felt a chill so she scooted back seeking Martin's warmth – only to be greeted by the back of the sofa. Opening her eyes she realized that she was alone. Disappointed, she shrunk back onto the sofa when she heard strange sounds coming from the back of the apartment. Pulling the blanket around her tightly, she stood up and padded softly down the hall. As she entered the darkened bedroom she saw a line of light at the bottom of the bathroom door. Believing Martin had just gotten up for a pee, she decided to climb into the bed when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. She walked to the bathroom door and turned the knob to find it locked.

"Martin? Are you okay?" Then she heard it again. "Martin, open the door."

There was a brief pause and Sam briefly wondered if she could kick the door in when he finally spoke up, his voice strained and raspy. "I'm fine, Sam. Go back to sleep."

"You don't sound fine. Open the door." Sam insisted, shaking the doorknob for emphasis.

"No, really, I'm okay." There was a brief silence when he added, "I think I just drank too much wine."

Sam paused, knowing that he did not have enough wine to make him ill but she still decided to give him a minute. She reached for some clothes that she had left on a chair and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She paced outside the door for a while, contemplating if she should walk away and give him some privacy when she heard him get ill again. She waited until he was done and then firmly said, "That's it, Martin, let me in now."

After a few moments, she heard the toilet flush and then the lock click. She reached for the doorknob and walked in, finding Martin slumped in the corner next to the toilet bowl with his back against the tub. He was fully clothed, wearing the outfit he had on earlier. Ignoring her irritation that Martin appeared dressed as if he had planned on leaving before he got sick, she instead focused on how awful he looked; he was pale and clammy. She crouched down next to him and put a hand on his forehead, he was really warm.

Grunting, Martin grabbed her hand, pulling it away from his head, and said, "I'm fine."

"Martin, you have a fever…"

He interrupted and said, "Maybe I have that stomach flu that has been going around."

She touched his head again, he felt really hot. She looked him over before saying, "Maybe, we should take you to see a doctor."

Martin shook his head slowly and replied, "No. I don't want to go anywhere near a doctor's office."

"Martin, you look really bad." Sam stood up and grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet, running it under cold water before crouching back down and putting it on his forehead.

He shook his head again and firmly said, "No more doctors Sam. I've seen enough lately."

Once she nodded in agreement, he closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy the cool compress when he quickly lurched forward to put his head over the toilet bowl and throw up again. To her credit, Sam stayed and rubbed his back until he was finished. When it looked like nothing more would come up, he leaned back against the wall and Sam put the compress back on his forehead. It continued on like that for over a half-an-hour. She wondered what she could do for him, she didn't have any medicine she could give him that he wouldn't just throw back up and he insisted that he didn't want to go see a doctor.

Well, Sam thought, standing up and going to get her cell, she'll just have a doctor come see him.

Forty-five minutes later Sam heard a soft knock on her door. Opening it, she smiled and said, "Hi, Emma, Danny. Thanks for coming so late."

"No problem." Emma remarked, as the couple entered the apartment. "So you said his symptoms were vomiting and a fever but up until a few hours ago he was fine?"

"Yeah, it came on pretty suddenly." Sam nodded, wishing she had thought to straighten up the apartment before they arrived. At the very least, she hoped that her living room didn't still smell like sex.

Emma looked around and asked, "Where is he?"

"He's in the bathroom," Sam motioned for Emma to follow her as she headed down the hall, "but I should warn you, he didn't want to see a doctor. He doesn't know I called you."

Emma stopped and looked at Sam. "Samantha…."

"Look, I wouldn't have called you if he wasn't really sick." Sam implored.

Emma hesitated a moment before nodding and continued following. She stopped again when she realized that Danny was trailing along as well. Turning to look back at him she said, "And where do you think you're going?"

"With you, Martin is my friend." Danny replied matter-of-factly.

"I don't think that's a good idea. You wouldn't want him to see you sick and throwing up." Emma argued.

Danny's lips twitched, wanting to smile, when he said, "I wouldn't care."

Emma just looked him directly in the face and laughingly said, "Yeah right. Go wait in the living room, please." And with that she followed Sam into the bedroom and shut the door.

When they entered the bathroom, they found that Martin was now lying completely flat on the floor, using a rolled-up towel as a pillow. He opened his eyes, looked at the two women and said, "Great, now it's a party."

Emma knelt down next to Martin as Sam hovered in the doorway. Emma touched his forehead and said, "If this is another attempt at winning that 'worst date ever' contest you have taken the competition to a whole new level."

"Ha. Ha." Martin remarked, closing his eyes again. "I wish it was."

Emma pulled a digital thermometer out of her medical bag and put the tip in Martin's ear. It beeped and read: 100.3. She cleared the thermometer's screen and said, "So, Sam told me that up until a few hours ago you were fine and that you think it's the stomach flu."

Martin opened his eyes, shifting them between Emma and Sam. Catching on, Emma turned to Sam and asked, "Samantha, do you have any Gatorade?"

"Yeah," She said with a nervous nod.

"I want you to pour some in a glass until it is half full and then dilute the rest of it with water. We'll need to start replenishing his fluids." Emma instructed.

"Okay, I'll be right back." Sam turned and walked away.

Once she was certain Sam was out of ear shot, Emma looked down at Martin and asked, "So, what's really going on?"

XXXX

"It's food poisoning." Martin mumbled, feeling absolutely miserable. About an hour after he and Sam fell asleep, he felt the first symptoms. It started with a stomach cramp and a general nauseous feeling. It was the same feeling he felt after eating a bowl of fish soup he bought from a vendor on a beach in Jamaica. He knew it was not going to be good and not wanting to hurt Sam's feelings, he thought it might be best to write her a note and rush home. He delicately maneuvered out from behind Sam, covered her with the blanket that was on the chair and hurriedly threw on his clothes. He could already feel his body beginning to revolt and knew that he needed to get out of there fast. But while he was searching for a pen to write the note he realized that leaving was now out of the question and he made a mad dash for the bathroom. Thankfully, his reflexes were quick enough and he made it there in the nick of time. Unfortunately, once the symptoms kicked in he knew he was stuck at Sam's; escape was no longer an option.

Well, at least the bathroom was clean and the rug was soft.

"I take it you've had this before." Emma commented and Martin nodded. "What restaurant did you guys go to and did Sam eat any of your food?"

"No restaurant. Sam cooked. And she didn't eat either one of the two foods I think caused it." Martin swallowed, hoping to rid himself of the taste of bile that arose at the mere memory of Sam's dinner.

"Well, I guess now I know why you told her it was the flu. That's really sweet." Emma remarked. "Okay, have you had any diarrhea or abdominal cramping?" Martin eyed her, not liking to have to share this much with his best friend's girlfriend. Noticing his hesitation, Emma looked at him and plainly stated, "I am a doctor."

"Just kill me now." Martin griped under his breath before answering. "Diarrhea at first but not since I started throwing up; some cramping but nothing severe."

"That's good. Well, since you've had this before I guess you know there's really nothing to do but drink plenty of fluids and just let it run its course." Martin frowned and nodded. "I do have something you can take for the vomiting but you're not going to like it."

Emma searched her bag and pulled out a small tinfoil wrapper that was shaped like a bullet.

Martin looked at her and said, "Please tell me that you're going to shoot me with it."