Day 15 – Sick in an Inconvenient Place
"This was a terrible idea." Moffitt looked at himself in the mirror of his in-laws' bathroom.
"You were the one who insisted you were well enough to come," Anah said.
"Was I?"
"Yes, dear."
"Oh."
Anah looked up at him. "Allergies. You never look this bad with your allergies."
"Yes, but Vanora's parents don't know that."
"Why did you even tell them you are dealing with allergies?"
"Because that sounds better than a sinus infection. I'd rather not get told to just sit in the car for a few hours. It's too cold out for that."
Anah sighed. "I suppose we can keep pretending that this is just your allergies, but as soon as we go home, you are going right to bed."
"Fine." Moffitt pulled some tissues out of a box near the sink to blow his nose. All that did was make his ears pop and his sinuses hurt more. "Ugh… this was my idea, now I have to live with the consequences." He squeezed his eyes shut when a throbbing headache began.
"It could be worse. You could have the gastrointestinal flu you had a few winters ago."
"Anah?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Please… never, ever bring up that flu again."
"It is burned into both of our memories. I make no promises."
Moffitt sighed. "You deserve a bloody medal for having to put up with me back then."
"Indeed, dealing with your bout of extreme tummy trouble felt like an entire war campaign. Fortunately, your congested sinuses are far easier to manage." The cobra smiled at him. "Have patience, dear. You will be home and in bed before you know it."
"Yes, and then you and Vanora can play nurse to your hearts' content." Moffitt winced while massaging the space directly under his eyes. "Can I have one bloody autumn where I'm not sick?"
"I am not sure. Can you?"
"Very funny, Anah."
After blowing his nose a second time, Moffitt finally left the bathroom to rejoin his wife and her parents in the living room. Out the window, the sky was gray and dreary, and dead, dry leaves were fluttering about in the wind. It looked cold, which didn't exactly help him feel better.
"You look miserable, Jack," Vanora said.
"Well, yes, my… allergies always make me miserable, darling," Moffitt replied. He sat on the couch next to her. "Have I missed anything?"
Vanora leaned in to whisper, "Not particularly."
"Oh, so your mother's still going on and on about her carpet shop."
"Yes."
Moffitt groaned, half with annoyance and half with pain.
Vanora handed him a blanket. "You look cold."
"I feel cold."
"Aww." Vanora started stroking Moffitt's hair once he was wrapped up in the blanket. She looked over at her parents. "Could we please turn the heat up a little, Dad?"
Quentin, her father, shook his head. "I'd like to keep the heating bill low this winter, Nora. They say it'll be a brutal winter this year and I don't want to be turning the heat up too soon."
"Blast," Moffitt hissed.
"Well, we're not made of money like your blooming family is."
"He's not feeling well, Dad!" Vanora said.
"You said he had allergies. He'll be fine."
Anah poked her snout out of the blanket. "Why not have a cup of tea, dear? Tea makes everything better."
Moffitt nodded in agreement, though he suddenly had a nagging feeling that there was a reason he didn't like the tea at his in-laws' house. He couldn't pinpoint it, partly because it had been so long he couldn't remember, and because his brain was foggy with illness. Then he smelled the tea being brewed. Oh, bloody hell, that's why! It's off-brand tea! That awful stuff tastes like plastic for some reason! Curse me!
Anah flicked out her forked tongue to taste and smell the steam when the tea was brought over. She made a face, then whispered, "Well… that only marginally smells better than the crap Troy made."
"Yes. By the slimmest of margins."
"You'll get real tea when we go home," Vanora whispered.
"Better yet, real tea and a bowl of soup," Anah added.
"Soup would be nice right about now," Moffitt said. He tried to daydream about soup and tea while enduring the insulting liquid in his cup masquerading as tea. Daydreaming didn't conceal the flavor. In fact, it made it worse, and Moffitt started wishing that his sinus infection would worsen so he could no longer taste it. He stopped, realizing that could very well happen, and, in truth, he didn't want it to happen. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to taste the soup or a cup of real tea.
Moffitt wasn't paying much attention to the conversations between Vanora and her parents. He was surprised his body hadn't rejected the "tea" yet. Maybe I'm so sick that I don't have the strength to reject it.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when it was finally time to go home. The next challenge was the fact that the drive back to Cambridge was four hours. Four hours in a cold car with very little tissues, no medicine, and only a single paper grocery bag to use as a trash bag for the tissues.
Since he didn't have to pretend he was suffering from allergies anymore, Moffitt let his full misery show in the car. He already looked a little awkward given his height, but now he looked awkward and uncomfortable. After the first half-hour of the drive home, Moffitt felt like a hammer had been smashed between his eyes.
"Are you doing alright over there, Jack?" Vanora asked without taking her eyes off the road. "All I hear is you sniffling."
"I'm doing… absolutely marvelous, darling," Moffitt groaned.
"Poor dear needs his tea," Anah said.
"What I need is an entire year of not getting sick. Is that too much to ask?"
"But then Vanora would not be able to take care of you."
"I don't need to be sick for that. I would just very much like to be well for once."
"We'll get you well, love," Vanora said. "Just be patient. We'll be home soon."
"'Three hours' isn't exactly 'soon,' darling."
"Aww, there's no need to be cranky." Vanora reached over to squeeze Moffitt's shoulder.
"I'm very uncomfortable. Of course I'm cranky."
It didn't take long for Moffitt to regret being cranky, even though he was still somewhat uncomfortable. Vanora and Anah are just trying to help. I just don't want to be smothered in the process. I'm… so… bloody tired. His thoughts were becoming less and less coherent.
The next few hours were a blur. Moffitt barely acknowledged the fact that they were finally home. He was tired, but not the drowsy kind of tired. It was the kind of tired where he just wanted to lie down and be left alone for a little while. Every muscle and joint ached. His head still felt like he was being hit with a hammer. His chest was sore, and his throat felt like he had tried to swallow sand. Worst of all, he was so cold, and he couldn't tell if it was because that day was among the coldest in British history, or he developed a fever and was trapped in its oppressive phase of chills.
Vanora and Anah had gotten to work making tea and soup after putting Moffitt in the sitting room and wrapping him in a blanket. He was left alone with his absolute misery, and hated it. He hated being sick. He hated being miserable. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up healthy again. Sleep just wasn't coming due to how uncomfortable he was. He swore under his breath, and his feelings of frustration exploded into something akin to anger. It wasn't an anger where he wanted to shout at everything and clench his fists. He didn't have the energy to. Instead, it led him to cry.
"Jack, why are you crying?" Vanora asked when she came out to give him his tea.
"I'm so miserable!" Moffitt moaned. "I just want to get some bloody rest, for heaven's sake!"
"We're trying to help you get some rest, love. Here—sit up, drink your tea. Are you still cold?"
"I'm freezing."
"I have an idea." Vanora took a folded blanket from a cabinet under a bookshelf, and disappeared. A second later, Moffitt heard the dryer running, and Vanora came back. "I put that blanket in for fifteen minutes. It'll be warm for you when it's done."
"You didn't have to do that."
"Do you want to stay miserable, Jack?"
"No. I just… I'm at a loss of what I want that'll help."
Anah peered into the sitting room. "I heard crying. Is everything alright?"
"Jack is very miserable, that's all," Vanora said.
"Oh, poor dear—"
"No, no, nope! No more of this 'poor dear' stuff." Moffitt put his face in the pillow.
Anah and Vanora exchanged a look, then looked back at Moffitt. "Would you rather we call Troy to come take care of you?" Anah asked.
"Absolutely not. I wouldn't trust anyone but you two to make tea."
"Well, we would not leave him unsupervised with you."
"The last time you and Troy were left unsupervised, he nearly got hit by a car trying to retrieve a stolen box of tea."
"She and Troy wouldn't be unsupervised, though," Vanora said.
"No one should have to manage both of them alone, darling."
"Wait! I have an idea that will help you feel better!" Anah raced off.
"What is she doing?" Moffitt struggled to sit up, then heard water running in the bathroom. "Is she—"
"I think she's running a bath for you," Vanora said.
Moffitt sighed, not wanting to admit that a hot bath sounded good. He noticed Vanora trying to hide a blush and a smile. For the first time that day, Moffitt smiled. "Oh, I see… you'd like to see me starkers, wouldn't you, my darling?"
"Well, you can't exactly wear your boxers in the bath, now, can you?" Vanora said. "Besides, aren't you feeling well enough to get undressed on your own?"
Moffitt gave a pathetic moan. "Oh, perhaps I am feeling a little weak and need assistance."
"Okay." Vanora's grin widened. "Should I ever get sick, I'd like you to return the favor."
"And I would, quite happily."
Author's Note: The "starkers" exchange is based on a line in Tallsunshine12's story "The Great Saline Raid."
