Translation of Love - By Alice Montalvo-Tribue Page 0,41
he can go.”
“Where’s he gonna go?”
“Hotel.”
“I have an extra room, ya know?” I don’t even know this guy and I’m inviting him to use my spare bedroom, but if Victor trusts him, I know he’s okay.
“Babe, you have a daybed in there. He’d never fit in that thing. He’ll be more comfortable at the hotel.”
The thought of a big, burly man trying to sleep on the tiny daybed makes me giggle. “Okay.”
Victor signals for his bodyguard to leave and when he comes back in he plops back down on the couch, leaning his head on one of my throw pillows. I notice he looks kind of pale and I have to wonder if he’s been taking care of himself these last few days. I sit down next to him. “Babe, are you feeling okay? You look pale.”
“Yeah, just tired. I’ve barely seen sunlight the last few days, been spending a lot of time in the studio,” he says.
I pull the baseball cap off of his head and put my hand to his forehead. “I think you have a fever.”
“No, I’m sure it’s nothing, I just need rest. I’m sorry, Babe, I just wanted to see you. I was fine when I left the city but the more time I spent in the car the more tired I got.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just stay right here okay?” I run upstairs to the bathroom and rummage through the medicine cabinet. I grab the thermometer and bottle of ibuprofen and run back downstairs, turning the thermometer on as I go. “Here, Honey, put this under your tongue.” Victor looks up at me. I can see in his eyes that he feels miserable but he obeys. While I wait to find out his temperature, I go to the kitchen and get a bottled water out of the refrigerator. I hear the thermometer beeping as soon as I walk back into the living room and pull it from his mouth. “Just like I thought, it’s 101. Here, take these,” I say, handing him two pills and the bottled water.
Once Victor swallows the pills, taking him by the hand, I lead him upstairs to my bedroom. I undo his belt buckle and help him out of his sneakers and jeans. He gets into my bed and I pull the covers up over him. “It’s cold in here,” he trembles.
“That’s just cause you have a fever. You’ll feel better soon. Just close your eyes and get some rest.”
“Are you gonna stay with me?” he whispers.
My heart clenches and my eyes burn with unshed tears. Why am I getting emotional? For whatever reason, I have this unexplainable need to take care of him. I hate the thought of him being all alone in his apartment with no one to make sure that he’s okay. “Yeah, Baby, I’ll stay with you.” I turn off the lights and get in bed, his back to me as I lie on my side. I prop my head up on my hand while I run my free hand through his hair. We stay this way for a long time until I hear his breathing regulate telling me that he’s asleep. Only then do I close my eyes and allow sleep to come.
The sound of my alarm screeching wakes me up. I see Victor sleeping soundly next to me. Seeing him here in my bed does something to me. It feels nice waking up with him here, but the thought of my carefully constructed defenses beginning to falter scares me. I lean over and put my hand to Victor’s forehead. His fever seems to have broken and I can already see that some of the color has returned to his cheeks.
I contemplate calling in sick from work but if I do, there’s no way that I’ll be able to meet the deadline for the new program installation. I go to my dresser and pull out a black lace bra with matching panties. From my closet, I grab a light gray satin top, black skirt and black patent leather pumps. After a quick shower, I get dressed, do my hair and makeup then go downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee and make some hot tea and toast for Victor. I make my way back upstairs with his tea and coffee in hand, place it on the nightstand and sit down on the edge of the bed.
“Victor,” I say, touching his cheek. “Victor wake up.” He opens his eyes and when they meet mine, the