"Get back in bed, Sam."
Carly's voice was quiet, but firm. And a bit tired. Why did the blonde tigress insist on being so difficult? Any other time and she would never be able to even budge Sam from a bed. In fact, one could be risking health and safety to even try to wake her up. Why can't she just be her normal self and stay in bed?
Sam stood in the middle of her bedroom, swaying amid the remnants of previous days' wardrobes, eyes puffy and half closed, cheeks flush, breathing heavy and labored through parted lips. Her eyes were glassy and moist, somewhat unfocused as if staring through a fog, a struggle to keep them open. Her blonde curls wild like Medusa. She did her best to stare back at Carly from under sad brows.
She was half dressed. A blue t-shirt that was inside out. Jeans that had only made it onto her left leg and were now hanging from her knee. And socks that did not quite make it all the way onto her feet. The only thing that was right on her body was the black boxers she wore. And Carly had put those on her.
Carly blocked the doorway to Sam's room with a tray in her hands, steam lazily curling up from the bowl of chicken and ham soup on it. And although her own eyebrows were drawn together in a mix of anger and irritation, her eyes held compassion for her best friend.
"Bed, Sam. Now," Carly said with finality.
"rrrmmm…school…," Sam mumbled at the vague concept of a person in her doorway that was trying to keep her from doing whatever it was she was thinking about doing.
Carly rolled her eyes and set the tray down on the night table by the bed. She moved behind the shorter blonde girl who was trying to turn and follow the blurry image that had just breezed by her. Carly held Sam by her shoulders and helped to keep her steady as she turned her back to the bed.
"Spinning," Sam said. "Mama no like…"
"Shhh," Carly soothed, guiding her friend into the bed, helping her roll onto her back. "I'm the mama today, Sam. Now get into bed and let me help you sit up. I have some soup for you. It'll help."
Carly pulled Sam up on the pillows, propping her up into a semi-sitting position. Sam was like a wet, limp rag doll. Carly pulled off Sam's socks, which were practically falling off anyway, and removed the pants from her one leg. Then, she pulled the comforter up to Sam's chin and tucked it in around her sides, leaving her arms on the outside. Sam did not like to be confined, even by blankets.
Sam sighed heavily and Carly could see that she was trying to focus on her face. Sam's mouth curved ever so slightly upward. Carly put her lips to Sam's forehead, feeling the volcanic heat and tasting the beads of sweat on her skin, and received a sigh of contentment from the blonde.
She sat on the bed beside Sam. Sam's right arm raised slowly, just enough to fall back onto Carly's lap. There was absolutely no strength to it. Carly took the soup into her hands and set it on the comforter under Sam's chin. The sick girl's eyes just followed everything that her friend was doing, half-lidded and glazed. She was still under the effects of a Tylenol fever reducer Carly had given her earlier. For all her toughness, Sam had absolutely no head for narcotics.
"Sammy," Carly started, as if talking to a child, which was never really far from the truth, "I want you to swallow this soup. Ok?"
Sam slowly nodded.
Carly brought a spoonful of broth and chicken and ham and noodles to Sam's lips, tipping it so that she could draw it into her mouth. She smiled as Sam swallowed. Then, she spooned up more soup for her friend. Carly had made it downstairs with Sam's mom from a mix of two recipes for Sam's favorite foods…chicken and, of course, ham.
With the soup finished, Carly put the bowl back on the tray and took the cloth from it and wiped at Sam's mouth. She put the back of her hand to Sam's forehead and felt the heat there. When was this fever going to break?
Carly sat back and took Sam's hand on her lap in her hands. The ill girl's grip was weak and she did her best to hold on to Carly. She found Sam's eyes and smiled, rubbing the back of her hand.
Sam was watching Carly as she watched her, eyes blinking lower and lower each time.
"Carls," Sam mumbled, fading under the mix of medication and warm soup in her belly.
"Shh," Carly soothed. "Sleep now, Sammy. I'll be here, tidying your room. You just get some rest."
"K…" Sam was drifting away into fevered slumber.
Carly put Sam's hand down on the comforter and stood up. Good, she was closing her eyes. Now to the task of her friend's rather unkempt bedroom.
This was becoming a monthly task for Carly. How long has she been cleaning after Sam? Six? Seven years? How is it that the girl couldn't even hit the laundry basket? Carly began to move about Sam's room, picking up her friend's tossed clothing and putting it in the laundry basket she kept in Sam's room. She'll take it down to the washer in a bit and start a wash. Over on the opposite side of the bed she moved a pile of shirts and came across a bunch of crumpled and empty Fat Cakes packages. She gathered them up and went over to the empty garbage can and dumped them in.
She turned to look at the room. Better, she thought. And her eyes fell onto Sammy's sleeping form. Her breathing was evening out and her face was getting more relaxed. She was sure the girl was asleep now. Good. She needed rest. And Carly had to admit that she enjoyed looking after her Sammy. It made her feel strangely fulfilled. Must be the mothering instinct, she decided.
Carly smiled at her friend. A warm feeling grew within her. What was this feeling? Peace? Contentment? That everything was suddenly right with the world when she was with Sam? Would this feeling last forever? Would they? As she watched her friend sleep, she mouthed the words: I love you…
Sam's lips parted ever so slightly in a smile.