I roll over onto my stomach and shift one leg to the side, trying to get comfortable. I feel my panties ride up into my butt crack, but I’m just too sick to care.
I don’t complain when I feel his fingertips grab the hem of my panties and pull them out of my butt so that I’m fully covered. “Thank you,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “I live to serve,” he replies. He lifts the sheet from the foot of the bed and covers me up to my waist. “What can I get you?”
“Nuffin’,” I mutter into my pillow.
“I’m going to run home and get my book, and then I’ll be back, okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “You can go. I don’t want you to get sick too.”
“Give me five minutes. I’ll be right back.”
I wake up a few hours later, and I find him lying next to me on the queen-size bed. He’s on the outside of the covers while I’m on the inside. He has one arm behind his head and a book lies open, upside down, on his chest. A small lamp burns on the bedside table. His mouth is open a little, and tiny snoring sounds come from his nose.
He jerks awake when I move. “Are you okay?”
“No. I’m sick.” I try to get up, but my body hurts too bad, so I just moan as I roll onto my back.
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” My voice is not more than a whisper. That’s because it hurts to talk. It hurts to breathe, too, but I’m doing it. Out of necessity.
“It’s time for more meds.” He sits up and drops his feet to the floor. I see his shoes sitting next to the wall. “Do you want me to cut them up again?”
“Only if you want me to take them.”
He chuckles as he goes to the kitchen, and he comes back a minute later with a fresh glass of purple juice and some more pain relievers.
I take them from him. “How long has it been since I took the last ones?”
“About three hours, but when I called your grandmother she said I could alternate the two different kinds I bought, and you would feel better.”
“You talked to Gran?” I take the pill pieces from him and drop them onto my tongue one by one, then swallow them quickly.
“I did. I used your thumb to open your phone, and then I used it to call her. Hope you don’t mind.”
I try to lift my eyebrows at him, but even doing that hurts so I let them fall. “Would it matter if I did?” I lift my hand in front of my face so I can look at it. “You used my thumb?”
“Guy’s got to do what a guy’s got to do.”
“You didn’t look at my naked pictures, did you?” It’s a feeble attempt at a joke. There aren’t any.
“No, but if you have naked pictures on your phone, I’ll wait until you go to sleep to use your thumb again.” He leans closer to me. “So go back to sleep now, okay?” He laughs wickedly.
I would laugh too, but it hurts too much. “I feel terrible.”
“I know.”
I suddenly lift my head. “Where’s Mitchell?”
“I took him back to Ma’s right before dark.”
“I thought you were keeping him.” I reach up to adjust my pillow under my head, but my arms won’t cooperate, so I just let them fall. He reaches behind me, lifts me a little, and adjusts my pillows, then lays me back down.
“Better?”
“Much.” I roll toward him. “So why did you take Mitchell back?”
“I need to get a cabin set up for him. Paint. Get a bed for him. I don’t want him to have to sleep on a blow-up mattress. When I get him, I want it to be right, you know?”
I nod, because talking hurts too much.
He gets up and comes back with a cool cloth from the bathroom, damp with water. He very gently cleans my face with it, and then folds it and lays it on my forehead.
“That feels nice,” I murmur.
He presses the purple juice into my hand. “Drink this and then you can go back to sleep.” When I do nothing, he lifts the straw to my lips and slips it inside. I drink until it’s gone, even though it hurts like crazy, because he looks so proud of me while I do it. “I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow if you’re not feeling better by morning.”