Day 11 – Beginner's Guide to Faking Sick

"This is gonna seem kinda embarrassing, but it's something I really want your help with," Tully said softly.

"Sure. What is it?" Hitch replied.

Tully glanced around. He and Hitch were alone in the backyard, listening to the summer cicadas and having tall glasses of raspberry iced tea. Their wives were inside, unable to hear their conversation. Despite that, Tully still leaned in to whisper, "Mabel's parents are coming to visit in a couple days."

"Oh."

"I know Mabel loves them, but I don't particularly enjoy their company. They can be a little too affectionate with the baby and it makes her cry. You got any ideas on how to get out of it?"

"Yeah. In fact, I got the perfect one." Now Hitch was looking around to make sure they were alone. "You fake being sick."

"Seriously? I'm not ten years old."

"No, but it got me outta several of my sister's concerts when we were in school. I came to call it 'saxophone-itis,' because back then, she was awful on the saxophone and I didn't want to be sitting there for two hours listening to it."

Tully gave him a look. "Alright. How does one contract… saxophone-itis?"

"Well, it's simple. Lay in bed a little longer than usual, act real slow and groggy when you go downstairs for breakfast, don't eat anything, say you have a pounding headache—don't forget the drama. The drama sells it, if you don't overdo it."

Tully's expression only became more skeptical. "There's no way this worked on your parents."

"It did the first three times. I even had fake vomit that I made myself. Then I got caught heating a thermometer in a tea kettle."

Tully didn't want to bother asking how Hitch made fake vomit. "Alright. So, all I gotta do is not get caught."

"Pretty much."

"That's not going to be easy. Mabel is a nurse."

Hitch paused. "You know, I didn't think of that. That will be a challenge." He rubbed his chin. "You could just call Sarge and have him make tea for you."

"I'm not exactly looking to actually be hospitalized, Hitch. I'll take just trying to fake it, but faking it in front of Mabel is gonna be difficult."

"How do we get past her?" Hitch looked thoughtful again. "When was the last time you were sick?"

"Last winter. Around New Year's."

"Now, does Mabel really like taking care of you, or does she try to get you well as quickly as possible?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"I mean, does she pamper and spoil you when you're sick?"

"Yeah. She seems to get a kick out of putting vapor rub on my chest for some reason."

"Appeal to that. Cough a little, tell her your chest is congested."

Tully sighed. "Alright. I'll… give this a whirl."

"You'll do great. Let me know how it works."

Tully wasn't at all convinced that this was going to work, as he started to seriously consider calling Troy and having him make tea as a backup plan.

As the days drew nearer to when Mabel's parents were set to come, Tully started coming down with "saxophone-itis." He lingered in bed for a time one morning, laying almost completely still. When he heard his wife come back upstairs and toward the bedroom, he coughed a little, doing his best to make it sound genuine.

"Are you feeling alright, Tully?" Mabel asked.

I should've done something to make my voice hoarse. Sound tired. That's easy. "Not sure, honey," he moaned.

"You certainly don't sound alright." Mabel entered the room, and touched Tully's forehead and cheeks. "You're not flush or feverish. Strange." Next, she touched the sides of his throat, just under his jaw. "Glands aren't swollen. Open your mouth."

Tully did as he was told. Arguing would be a dead giveaway that he was lying.

"No redness, no swelling."

"Feel terrible, though," Tully said.

"I'll make you a cup of hot tea."

There's no way she's buying this, Tully thought. "Tea sounds good."

"Alright. I'll be right back." Mabel ruffled Tully's hair before leaving the room.

As soon as she left, Tully sat up and stared at the open door in disbelief. There's no damn way she's falling for this. He continued his act, though, and quickly and quietly went to the bathroom in order to splash hot water on his face. Once he was red and warm to the touch, he went back to the bedroom, where he pulled his pajama shirt off and lay with his whole torso exposed.

His wife returned a few minutes later holding a steaming cup of lemon-ginger tea. Tully made a show of coughing, and pretended to be weak as he tried propping himself up with pillows.

"Here." Mabel carefully handed him the tea. "Let's see if we can nip this in the bud quickly, before my parents come in a few days." She felt his forehead again. "You got warm, Tully. Maybe there is something wrong."

"I can feel it mostly in my chest," he said. He proceeded to try and give Mabel a pleading look, silently begging her to make him feel better.

"Does anything else hurt?"

"Everything's really sore."

"Okay. Sounds a bit like the flu. You poor thing." Mabel leaned down to kiss Tully's forehead.

Yep. We reached the "poor Tully" stage pretty quickly. Maybe this will work. He continued to look as sad as possible, sipping his tea while Mabel went and got a cold compress for him. At the same time, he was beginning to feel guilty about lying. The consequences if Mabel found out would be a hell of a lot worse than having to put up with his in-laws for a few hours. Just keep it up for two or three days and then you can "recover." Damn it, Hitch, why'd you have to talk me into this?

The excess pampering wasn't unwelcome, but Tully felt like it hadn't been "earned." By that evening, he wondered if he was now in too deep to tell Mabel the truth.

"How's your chest?" Mabel asked shortly before bed.

"Sore," Tully mumbled.

"Congested?"

"I feel congested."

"It doesn't sound like you're congested. I listened while you were napping earlier today and your lungs sound clear as a bell."

Tully shrugged. "Maybe it's a magic illness. Anah said those're possible."

"You have to be exposed to certain things for those to occur." Mabel folded her arms over her chest. "Be honest, Tully, are you making all this up?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I know you don't like my parents."

"It's not that I don't like them. They're just… a bit much, and they make the baby cry."

"Believe me, I'm trying to get them to understand that babies have limits on how much they can take. You could've just said something."

"I know, but I also know you haven't seen your parents in a while and I didn't want to take that from you. Being sick seemed like an honest reason to cancel."

"Where did you even get the idea to fake being sick in the first place? That's not like you."

"Hitch." Tully sat up in bed, relieved he didn't have to put up this charade anymore. "Am I in trouble?"

"No. Just… say something next time." Mabel sighed. "Tell you what—you can take Eleanor for the day and go do something."

"I really should be in trouble, honey. I lied to you."

"Do you think this is going to become a habit?"

"No."

"Then you're not in trouble. I still love you."

"I love you, too." Tully shifted to let Mabel get in bed with him. He was relieved that he wasn't trouble, and that he would get to spend a whole day with his daughter. At the same time, he certainly wasn't going to lie to his wife ever again, even over simple things like a dreaded in-laws visit.