Prompt 29 – Sick on a Road Trip

It was somewhat surreal seeing the same sights several years after undertaking an impromptu road trip. In a way, Dietrich felt like it had only been yesterday that he dragged Troy out to the west coast to get him out of his head and back to his old self after he and his wife, Shauna, had been unsuccessful with trying to have children. Now, he and Troy were driving out to the same town in Washington, on the same route, just for fun. Then again, it was similar in the fact that this was suggested out of nowhere. Troy was bored, and so he suggested doing this. Dietrich agreed, and he wasn't sure why. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have wanted to spend more than five seconds alone with Troy, and even that seemed too long. Unlike the previous trip, Dietrich wasn't insistent on driving. In fact, he didn't feel like doing much of anything. He felt lethargic, and the first day was spent with a sore throat. That couldn't be good, right?

The second day, Dietrich awoke in his hotel room feeling like someone had punched him right between his eyes. Breathing through his nose was outright impossible. He felt like cotton had been stuffed in his ears. That sore throat was still there, but it felt much worse compared to yesterday. He was overwhelmed with a desire to keep sleeping, but this wasn't home. No, he was far away from home. Very far away. Even Troy's ranch would be preferable. Being sick in a strange place just made everything worse. He made an attempt to get out of bed and get dressed, only to collapse on the bed, sitting upright. Great, he thought with a sigh.

There were three knocks at the door. "Dietrich? You up, buddy?" Troy asked.

I suppose this counts as "up." Dietrich reached over to use his nightstand for leverage, slowly lifting himself up and using the wall to brace himself. He felt as though a brick had been tied to his head, his arms, and his legs. He opened the door, with the intention of hiding his illness, but a wave of dizziness put a stop to that nonsense, and he was staggering backwards to sit on the bed again.

"You okay?" Troy asked.

"What do you think?" Dietrich replied. His words didn't exactly come out right with how backed-up his nose and sinuses were.

"I think you don't look so good, and you definitely don't sound good." Troy felt Dietrich's forehead despite the skinny German grunting in protest. "You're not ridiculously warm, but you're warm. This explains why you were quieter than normal yesterday."

"You noticed?"

"I've only known you for, what, almost twenty years? I know what your 'normal quiet' and 'not normal quiet' are."

You really should know by this point that you cannot hide anything from him, Hans. Dietrich chose not to respond in favor of sniffling.

"I'm okay with staying here until you're better. There is a hospital near here if you think you need it."

"I doubt this is bad enough to warrant a hospital stay. I am fine, Troy."

"Didn't we just establish that you're not fine?"

"Shut up."

"I'll leave this up to you. You're the one who's sick."

"Well, I have no desire to stay here and no desire to go to a hospital, so we may as well continue on our journey." Dietrich proceeded to let out a sneeze that was quite loud and of a degree of grossness that no one in polite company would ever describe.

Troy, meanwhile, was entirely unfazed, as he had seen worse than this. "Bless you." He then started putting Dietrich's luggage together. "Alright. We'll go. Do you feel like you can eat breakfast? The hotel has a dining room."

"I doubt they have anything that is of a spicy or pungent enough caliber to open my damn sinuses," Dietrich muttered.

"No, you're probably right." Troy sighed. "We probably should turn back and go home to put you to bed."

"I refuse to be responsible for ruining this trip."

"You're sick, Dietrich."

"And?"

For once, Troy was the one rolling his eyes. "Well, if you're insistent on continuing, I'm going to help you, whether you want it or not."

"I am confident that statement summarizes our friendship for the last twenty years."

"Pretty much. Blow your nose and I'll help you up."

It wasn't exactly the first time Troy had helped out when Dietrich was sick, but now, Dietrich didn't exactly have a choice, given that they were both far away from home. He didn't like how he was now incapable of stopping Troy from going off on a wild adventure.

At least Troy was respectful of Dietrich's wants and needs. He got Dietrich out of the hotel quickly, without anyone noticing that Dietrich was sick. Troy did have to run back inside to make sure they were checked out and everything was paid for, but then he came running back out to the truck.

"Wait a minute, you did not have breakfast," Dietrich said.

"I know," Troy replied.

"You did not have coffee, either."

"I know."

"And you are driving."

"Yep."

"Do I need to be concerned?"

"No. Just go to sleep."

Dietrich sighed, unsure if his headache was related to his sinuses or Troy. Probably both. He tried adjusting himself to get comfortable. The motion of the truck beneath him was nauseating and the pain in his head gradually swelled the longer they were on the road. The brick sensation in his head and limbs was still there. He doubted he could taste anything, and the popping in his ears was both uncomfortable and annoying.

"How're you doing, buddy?" Troy asked.

Dietrich's only response was a long and irritable groan.

"Not good, huh?"

Dietrich moaned again. "Stop talking, for heaven's sake."

Much to Dietrich's surprise, Troy stopped talking for well over an hour. It would have been nice if Dietrich didn't feel so immensely awful. He winced and moaned at the pressure in his sinuses, and squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain and discomfort in his head. He sensed Troy looking at him every once in a while, and eventually broke the silence, "I did not intend for you to stop talking permanently."

"Well, you're being cranky, so I'm leaving you alone and letting you have your silence," Troy said.

Dietrich sighed.

"Are you bored?"

"Maybe. If anything, I am more tired of listening to my ears pop."

"So, is that permission to talk again?"

"Troy, you never needed to permission to talk. It is not like you would ask if you did need it anyway." Dietrich tried to adjust himself in his seat. Finding a comfortable position was impossible, but he made an effort. The glass of the window was cool, so he pressed his head against it, and somehow fell asleep.

He awoke to the sound of crickets and the passenger side door opening. His seatbelt was unbuckled, and he heard Troy's voice saying, "Alright, let's get you out, Dietrich. Come on, buddy."

The night air was refreshing for about two seconds, then dizziness crashed into Dietrich as he was made to stand. His head still felt heavy, and found himself leaning against Troy while being half-dragged across a parking lot.

"You're okay, Dietrich," Troy said. He stopped, still holding onto the skinny German, and unlocked a door. The sudden appearance of light made Dietrich recoil. He felt himself falling, but landed on a soft bed with equally soft pillows. An air conditioner was turned on, then a cool, damp washcloth was placed on Dietrich's forehead. He felt Troy gently squeeze his shoulder. "Go to sleep. You need it."

Somehow, Dietrich did. His dreams were nonsensical and wild, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he was truly awake, or still in a dream. The air conditioner was off, and the windows were open, letting in fresh air and the continued chirping of crickets. Only one light was on now, the lamp on the nightstand between the two beds. He winced and grunted when he turned in the light's direction.

"Hey," Troy said.

"What?" Dietrich grunted.

"You okay?"

Dietrich took the washcloth off his head, and looked around. Pain and pressure still radiated through his head. His clothing was soaked in sweat. "Where are we?"

"Motel," Troy replied. He was laying in the other bed, facing Dietrich. "I guess you've got a little bit more than a sinus infection. You were really feverish in the truck."

"I was?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"Yeah. You were trying to toss and turn, you were moaning and groaning, muttering about things I couldn't understand. I think half of what you were saying was in German. I decided to just get to a place to stop and let you rest properly."

The room became quiet apart from the breeze and the crickets as Dietrich struggled to think with the fevered mush trying to pass for his brain. He stared out the window for a moment. "What time is it?"

"It's—" Troy looked at his watch, "Three in the morning. Do you need anything?"

"Going back to sleep would be nice. Have you been awake this whole time?"

"No. I've been falling asleep here and there. Keeping an eye on you to make sure this doesn't turn into something I need to rush you to the hospital for."

Dietrich wouldn't deny Troy's ability to get him help if needed. After all, he did it even when they were supposed to be enemies in a war. Dietrich made an attempt to get comfortable, though that was miniscule with dull aches throbbing in his head. He tried to drift off again, but sleep refused to return. He gave an irritated sigh, and rubbed his face.

Time passed with no results. Troy's voice broke the silence. "Can't sleep?"

"What do you think? I am sleeping like a baby!" Dietrich snapped.

Credit where it was due—Troy was being extremely patient despite Dietrich's illness-induced crabbiness. He didn't say anything for a moment, waiting for Dietrich to relax a little. "Apart from the obvious, is there anything you would like?"

"Am I to assume there are no shops open at this horrendous hour?"

"Some bars are open this late, but alcohol is the last thing you need."

"They serve more than just alcohol, do they not?" Dietrich was starting to wonder if the gurgling noises coming from his stomach were more related to hunger than sickness. He couldn't exactly remember the last time he ate anything.

"Yeah, they do." Troy thought for half a second, then snapped his fingers. "I've seen horseradish cheese dip served with pretzels at some places. That'll open your sinuses."

"Then I guess we are going to a bar."

"'We?' No, Dietrich, you're staying here and I'm going out."

Dietrich made a considerable effort to sit up and get out of bed. "No, I will accompany you. Any bar open this late probably has unsavory people populating it at the moment. You may need assistance." He used the nightstand for balance, but very nearly collapsed into it.

Troy stared at him. "Dietrich, you can't even stand up."

"Give me a minute."

"No. You're staying here."

"Do not try to argue with me. It never works."

For once, Troy looked incredibly confused. "Why is it that whenever we go on road trips together, we experience a personality switch at some point?"

Dietrich tried to think about that, but it gave him a headache. He managed to get himself upright. The heaviness in his head was still present. He went into the bathroom to get a glass of water, which helped a lot more than he had been expecting. He left the bathroom to find Troy had already left, and shuffled over to the window to see the truck pulling out of the parking lot. "Oh, come on!" Dietrich cursed to himself in German, wondering why he even bothered getting up. At least it forced him to drink water. He sank down to his bed, slouching and wondering what to do now, since sleep wasn't an option. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts and the disgusting sensations that came with being sick.

When he couldn't hold himself up anymore, Dietrich lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling was off-white. So were the walls, but a different shade of off-white. More like a really pale creamy-yellow, like vanilla pudding. Dietrich tried not to think too much about vanilla pudding. It just made him that much hungrier, and any sort of cold pudding or custard would be soothing on his throat.

He wasn't sure if he managed to doze off, or if he had just been absently staring and thinking about absolutely nothing for a little while. He couldn't get up to check the time, despite wondering how much time had passed since Troy left. He is coming back, right? Dietrich thought. I mean, he has to. His luggage is here. And me. Unless I have been so cranky that he is just going home. No, that cannot be possible. He helped me when we were supposed to be fighting each other in North Africa. Nothing I do now will stop him. Well, within reason. Is this within reason?

Several more minutes of silence passed. Well, it wasn't true silence. Dietrich could hear the ticking of the clock on the nightstand, the steady beating of his own heart, and the labored wheezing in his lungs as he breathed. The popping in his ears seemed to be louder now. He reckoned he would go fully insane by sunrise, but if he had managed to put up with Troy over the course of many years, he wondered if he had already gone insane, or if he built up a tolerance for it.

He made an effort to sit up when he heard a key in the door's deadbolt. Troy entered with a paper bag, which he set on a table across from the beds. "Hey. How're you feeling?" he asked.

"I doubt that can be described in one word," Dietrich said.

"I wasn't asking you to." Troy reached into the paper bag, taking out a small jar and two other paper bags. "Horseradish cheese dip, and I got a couple of soft pretzels. I also stopped at a twenty-four-hour shop and got some things that'll help." He set the dip and pretzels down before reaching into the bag again. "Some bottles of ginger ale. Aspirin. Tissue boxes. A jar of honey. This tangerine—"

"Please explain how a single tangerine is going to help."

"They're good for you."

"I knew that."

"Then why'd you ask?"

Dietrich rubbed his face. "I have no idea."

"Let's get some food in you. You'll be able to think more clearly." Troy helped Dietrich sit up before giving him one of the pretzels and the jar of horseradish.

In his desperation for clear sinuses, Dietrich scooped out as much of the dip as he could fit on the pretzel. It was extremely pungent. It burned so badly, but it was working as intended. After swallowing, Dietrich took the tissues, which were much softer than the less-than-adequate motel room tissues, and blew his nose several times. For the first time in well over a day, Dietrich felt the sweet relief of being able to breathe normally.

"Better?" Troy asked.

"For once. I will never take breathing for granted again."

"Good." Troy took a bite from his pretzel, then looked at his watch. "It's almost five. Do you want to just hit the road after we eat, or would you rather sleep?"

"You need to sleep, too."

"Nah, I'll be alright. I was thinking we drive for a couple of hours, find a spot for breakfast, I'll load up on coffee, and drive the rest of the day."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Dietrich knew they could argue about this all day, so he decided to go along with Troy's plan. Having food, aspirin, and something to drink helped him feel somewhat better, but there was still a lingering feeling of malaise and awfulness that diminished whatever enjoyment could have been present on this trip. He managed to sleep for a little while, then awoke to find the truck had stopped, and Troy was getting out of the driver's seat.

"Good morning," Troy said. "You hungry?"

"I suppose," Dietrich murmured. He made sure to blow his nose as best he could before following Troy. It was a little easier to stay upright now, and Dietrich hoped he could stay that way. Part of him wondered if the worst of this illness was over, but he wasn't getting his hopes up. He did his best to not act sick while trailing Troy into the diner. The persistent dull headache making him wince and the stark contrasts of redness and pallor on his face probably didn't help. He was pretty sure coffee wasn't a good idea to have while sick, but he didn't particularly care. It would help him feel normal again. Having a good breakfast helped as well, especially with thinking a little more clearly.

When they left the diner, Dietrich felt he could stay awake, and was a little more functional now that the pounding pressure in his head was a bit less bothersome. He looked at Troy as they got back on the road and asked, "Have I gone crazy, or did I really eat a pretzel covered with horseradish and a tangerine at five in the morning?"

"No, you really ate a pretzel covered with horseradish and a tangerine at five in the morning," Troy replied.

"Oh. Good to know."

"Why?"

"Because if we tell people that with no context, they are going to assume I was very hammered."

"Then we'll make sure to include the context, buddy."

"Good."

"You seem like you're feeling better."

Dietrich shrugged. "Somewhat."

You still want to continue the trip?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, we should be crossing into Montana after this corner—yep, there's the sign—so a couple more days and we'll be at the coast. Hopefully you don't get worse in that time."

Dietrich nodded in agreement. He mulled over some thoughts for the next half-hour or so, grateful his brain didn't feel like mush anymore. "I… I appreciate your patience, Troy. Um… I would like to apologize for being cranky."

"It's okay," Troy said. "I get it. You don't feel good."

"That is still no excuse to be a grouch."

"No, but I'm not going to hold it against you."

"Thank you." Dietrich took a drink from the second bottle of ginger ale. "Can I also say that dealing with me is one of those rare instances where you are being patient?"

Troy sighed, looking like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm going to take this as a sign you're really feeling better. I know how to be patient. You're my best friend. Of course I'll be patient for you."

"Are you patient for Shauna?"

"What kind of a question is that? She's my wife. Of course I'm patient with her. Not like I have to be, though. She can be just as impatient as me."

"So you admit you are impatient."

"I can be patient. I just don't want to be sometimes."

"Ah. 'Sometimes.' Got it."

"Dietrich?"

"Yes?"

"Go back to sleep."

"I had coffee. I am wide awake. Besides—" Dietrich took Troy's hat off to roughly tousle his hair, "I am trying to pay you a compliment and say thank you for helping me." He left Troy's hair a mess before dropping his hat back on his head.

Troy looked confused more than anything. "Again, what is it with road trips and us having moments where we're acting like the other?"

"Good question."