Ad Nauseam - By C. W. LaSart Page 0,8
embarrassment for both her and the girls would be too much to bear; besides, she was comfortable where she was.
She had everything she could possibly want, except a purpose.
***
Bill lay snoring next to her when Susan awoke late in the night, her body soaked in sweat and wracked with chills. Her head pounded fiercely and waves of fever washed over her. The muscles spasmed in her neck, clenching into knots, as she scurried to the bathroom. She barely made it in time before heaving her dinner into the toilet, then further suffering an attack of diarrhea like she had never known.
Please let me die, she thought as she sat on the pot with her face in the garbage can, losing fluids from both ends simultaneously.
After several minutes, the vomiting seemed to subside and there was nothing left within her to excrete, so Susan drew a warm bath. Weak and thoroughly spent, she climbed over the edge of the antique, claw-foot tub into the tepid water and settled in slowly. When the back of her neck touched the edge of the tub, she sat back up with a gasp.
Ouch!
Susan fingered the tender lump on her neck. The spider bite had swollen into a large, hard boil, throbbing beneath the skin. Careful not to slip, she got out of the tub and found her makeup mirror. Angling it so she could see her back reflected in the larger one above the sink, she examined the lump. It was an angry red around the edges, with a head of festering puss that looked as though it may burst at any moment, the skin stretched thin like the surface of an overinflated balloon.
Hmmmm, Susan thought. All this from a silly spider bite? I think I’m going to have to get this looked at by a doctor in the morning.
Some time during the early hours of morning, the boil on Susan’s neck burst, leaking foul yellow pus onto the ivory sheets. As the wound oozed, her fever broke and she traded in the fitful slumber of illness for a much more restful sleep.
***
Susan slept through the rustling of the sheets and the sound of Bill’s electric razor as he started his morning. She even slept through a full hour of her alarm’s blare later, before it finally gave up and shut itself off. It wasn’t until after lunch that Susan awoke, feeling, not groggy, but as refreshed as if she had just returned home from a long trip to the spa.
Her depression seemed to have lifted, as well. With a renewed energy and vitality that she hadn’t felt since her twenties, she got out of bed humming the tune of Whistle While You Work, a song from her daughter’s childhood that she hadn’t thought about in years, as she tucked the sheet corners under the mattress and smoothed the rumples in the blankets on the bed. And best of all, the pain her neck was gone.
Susan attacked the house with manic energy, cleaning and cooking at an almost frenzied pace. She busied herself with chores that she had put off for too long, things that weren’t part of her every week routine such as washing curtains and organizing closets. Then she baked muffins and cookies and breads, enjoying the task more than caring who would eat them. She felt a satisfaction in the work that had been missing for some time.
When Bill returned from work, late that evening, she met him at the door eagerly.
Ha! Work indeed! she thought, as she caught the scent of soap on his skin. She could detect the musk of another woman as well. It was faint, but she could still smell it, and she felt her anger glow hot. She hadn’t cared about the affairs for a long time now, but tonight she wanted to rip his head off.
Bill stopped short when he saw the fury in her eyes. “What’s going on, Hon?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Susan forced a civil tone and tight smile. “I made your favorite dinner, stroganoff. Hurry, it’s getting cold.”
Dinner was a quiet affair, Bill complimenting Susan on a delicious meal, while she stared back across the table, her look inscrutable. Her appetite was gone. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten anything all day. It was of no concern, she wasn’t even hungry. Susan stood to clear the table and load the dishwasher.
“Good Christ Susan! What happened to your neck?” Bill grabbed her shoulder and leaned in for a closer look.
Susan clapped a