He found
his feet matching the strong, rhythmic beat as he made his way straight across
the dance floor. He was heading to the back, despite the overwhelming urge to
throw himself at any number of the eligible bachelors surrounding him. Tight
leather pants. Flashes of the strobe light. Dog collars with spikes. Smoke hanging about in the air. Glittery, sequined shirts. He couldn’t resist reaching out
casually and squeezing a familiar butt cheek as he reached the back wall.
Spinning around, he opened the bathroom door by backing into it, giving himself
a good glimpse of the club’s occupants and a chance to wink at the owner of the
fine fondled ass.
The music
was loud for just a second, but otherwise terribly muffled once the bathroom
door had swung itself shut. The sound of sobs, however, was loud enough to draw
him straight past the first divider to the counter and mirror section of the
room. It had once been a women’s restroom, but as so few women populated the
club and many of its patrons were just as inclined to apply makeup in front of
the mirrors, the now unisex restroom was still in partial use at least. “He’sth not fucking coming.”
He stared
into the mirror, his back to the man, but meeting his eyes through the
reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. The man lay on the counter, in a
half-fetal position, arms clasped to his chest, hair rumpled, face pale as snow. Softly and without cursing this time,
“And you should be in bed, Sthweetie.”
The man
sniffled and shook his head. Shivering, he tried drawing his body parts in
more. “I’m fine. I’m not as sick as I look.” He rubbed his nose on his shoulder
and closed his eyes.
“Right, and I’m Cher.”
He was tall, lanky, and used the gym to pick up guys rather than pick up
weights. His hair was blonde, and stuck straight up an inch from the top of his
head. He wore purple contacts to match purple stretch pants and a black top
which hung off him in the proper revealing places. But he was certainly no Cher. “Besthidesth,
if you’re even half asth sthick
asth you look, you should sthtill
be in bed.”
The man
began his protest with a shake of the head, which was quickly defeated when a
sneeze approached him. His nose twitched, his nostrils flared with an intake of
breath, and his fist raised to his nose. “ep-ehshhh!
ihhshh! ehshuhhh!” A wet sniffle followed, and a soft
moan as he rubbed at his growingly tender nose.
“That’sth it. I’m getting Robert
to drive you home.”
“No!” Then
man sat up, back against the mirror, still rubbing at his nose. “I don’t want
Robert. Get Julia.”
With a
sigh, “Julia’sth driving a client home right now. Robert’sth justht out there waiting.”
Shaking his head. “I don’t want to deal with Robert’s shit
tonight. I’ll wait for Julia.” Preparing to wait right there, he lay back down.
Sniffling, curled, shivering. He pulled into himself more as his breath caught.
“eh…”
“You gonna sthneezthe again?”
He nodded,
mouth hanging open. “heh-ihhhshh!
Ehshhh!” After sitting back up, he hopped
down and ducked into one of the bathroom stalls. There was the sound of nose
blowing, some coughing, and then he returned with a stream of toilet paper.
Looking up into the man’s pretty-boy face, “Look, I’b
dot that sig, really.” He
wiped his nose and blew again. The end of the stream of toilet paper was then
used to wipe his eyes and dry his cheeks.
“Hmm,” the
man who still wasn’t Cher
replied, unconvinced, and wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders. “You want
I should buy you a drink?” Anything was better than lying on the bathroom
counter sobbing.
“No. The
loud music and the smoke gave me a headache.” He reached one hand up to rest on
the bathroom counter, steadying himself and preparing to jump up again.
Trying again, “At leastht wait in my officthe, then? Little warmer, nicther
chairsth, better view?”
His face
was pensive, and as his nose twitched again with oncoming sneeze, he finished
off the toilet paper with another blow. Tossing it into the trashcan for a
perfect two-pointer, he gave in. “’Kay, Nik.”
Nik led the man back out into the music and darkness. The
beat was so loud it shook the floor and pounded in their chests. The dancers
were no more than hot, sweaty bodies. The empty mugs of drinks finished
littered the dividers between the bar and the dance floor. And all the while, Nik kept his eye on the man he was escorting, who was
keeping an eye out for the man who wasn’t fucking coming.
The officer
was up a short flight of stairs, encased in black lights and one-way mirrors
looking out over the entire club. Beneath the mirrors sat security camera
televisions hooked up to VCRs. Nik directed the man
to a cushy seat before the desk, and took a spot, standing to look over the
floor. “Been a quiet night.” He waved at a familiar
bedfellow through the mirror, knowing full well he couldn’t be seen. Many would
call him a scarlet woman, but many knew him only from the club. And who wanted
to dance at a gay club that didn’t have a rather flamboyant, showy host to play
with? After all, Nik rhymes with….
“ehhshhh! ihh…ihhh-heshhh! IHshhh!” He flopped
forward in the chair weakly, hand cupped over mouth and nose.
“Poor
baby,” Nik cooed, turning, pacing to his desk drawer
and from it tossing a small cubic box of tissues to him. “Do you alwaysth get thisth bad when you
have a rotten break up?”
“We’re dot broked ub,” he snuffled,
recovering the missed box from the floor by the chair and helping himself to a tissue. “Add do, dever
this bad.” He blew his nose copiously and, sniffling, looked up at Nik. “Not that I’m that sick.”
“Stho you sthay.”
He paced the room on the other side, looking at the television monitors rather
than out the mirror. His eyes were focused, but his thoughts elsewhere, so much
so that he nearly missed Julia’s arrival through the back entrance where they
parked. “Julia’sth here and on her way up,” he
announced, looking down at the man who had since fallen asleep.
“Poor
baby,” came the whispered refrain, striding over, squatting down, putting both hands on the man’s thigh. “Wake up, Sthweetie.” He nudged a bit, and the man woke. He woke with
a cough and a look of mild embarrassment. “Julia’sth on her way up. Can you sthand
or are you too tired?”
He shook his
head as he raised a hand and scrubbed a tear that ran down his cheek. “I can stand, thanks.”
Just the
same, Nik helped him up, and gave him a kiss on the
cheek for the good effort. Julia entered, a tall, leggy, black-haired raven
woman with brilliantly red lips and clad in a black, shiny, plastic uniform. “Drove the cute bastard home.” She traded a check for a
chocolate mint that resided in a bowl on the edge of Nik’s
desk. “He’s brushed his teeth and slithered under the covers by now, the dear.”
With his
hand on the small of the man’s back, he pushed closer to the door. “You mind
dropping him off at home?”
With a soft
laugh, she shook her head. “Course not. Come on, Sweetie.” She wriggled her
fingers into the man’s hand as children do to lead each other across a meadow
or upstairs to see a new toy.
Nik gracefully took the tissue box back, behind his back,
so as to spare a little more embarrassment and snuck a few clean tissues into
the man’s pocket in the process. “I think there’sth sthome medicthine in the bathroom
cabinet, check the date firstht. And get another
blanket from the closthet if you get cold,” he
whispered, leaning into the man’s ear with soft, soothing words.
The man,
sniffling, whispered back, “And if he shows up you’ll…?”
“You pager
will know it insthtantly. But he’sth not fucking coming.” Not tonight, at least.
The man
nodded back and let himself be pulled out the office,
down the stairs, and back across the dance floor to the alley exit. Robert
wasn’t near his car, instead squatting down with his hand on the back of a
kneeling patron who was demonstrating that he’d had too much to drink. He
looked up to wink at them as they passed, but was sidetracked from any comments
to be thrown by some inebriated groans and the need to mumble a few comforting
comments back.
They walked
quickly past, and Julia slid into the driver’s seat of the car, reaching over
to the other side to unlock the passenger-side door and flick the handle to
just open it, being as helpful as her arms could be across the wide seat. She
gave him a warm smile as he climbed in, rubbing his arms from the chilly early
spring air. “Need to pick up anything on the way home? Milk?
Toilet paper? Coffee?”
He shook
his head, buckling in and settling in against the smooth black leather seats.
“Nah, just home…” he rubbed a twitching, tickling nose and gave a last look at
the club as they backed out of the alleyway and sped past it. No one waiting outside, no one walking to the door. With
another sniff he rubbed his palm against his nose. Still not
enough to quench the sneezey sensation. Trying
to sound casual about the impending need, “Hey, Jules, you got any tissues?”
She paused
a moment, hands busy in the middle of a turn, mind temporarily occupied with
switching off the turn signal manually as the left one had broken years back.
“Tissues…” she thought out loud. “Try the glove co, should be unlocked.
Otherwise they may have been left in back.” She flipped two switches next to
the radio simultaneously and the light in the back lit as well as the window
lowered between the front seat and rest of the limo.
He took a
glance in back, thinking one of these nights to suddenly see someone hiding out
back there. But everything looked straight, neat, and in its place. From the micro fridge to the shelf of DVDs. So he tried the
glove compartment, to find a large box starting back at him. Jackpot.
He left it open as he took a few and held them up to his face expectantly. He
paused, breathing suddenly becoming uncontrolled and erratic. Then finally, “eh-IHHshhh!
ehh-ehshhh! Iheshh!” He folded and rubbed the tissues
against his nose, wiping as gently as he could.
“Gesundheit, Sweetie.” She reached over and took the box out
for him, then shut the glove compartment. “Safer that way, you know.” She
flipped the switches from before back to the off position. “Still feeling a
little under the weather I take it?”
He nodded,
sniffling. “Just a little.” He sounded a bit congested
again, so he gave his nose as quiet a blow as he could muster in the silent
car.
As if
reading his mind, she flipped on the radio, keeping it inoffensively quiet, but
just enough to cover the sounds of his sniffles. They were buzzing along on the
expressway now, quickly approaching the exit. As he sniffled into another
tissue, he found himself wishing for once he lived closer to downtown. “ehsh-ushh! Ihshhh!”
“Gesundheit,”
she repeated, spinning around the exit ramp and taking a right at the bottom.
“You know,” she paused to buzz the gate to open and start up the private drive,
“a long, hot shower would help that congestion.”
He nodded,
shutting the tissue box back into the glove compartment.
She pulled
up to the front of the house, around the circular driveway and under the
overhang. “You want me to come in and make some tea for you, Sweetie?” She
reached over, brushing the hair out of his eyes with a soft, sympathetic touch.
He shook
his head and bit his lip. “No,” he squeaked out, quickly unfastening his
seatbelt and sliding out of the car before the tears began again. “Thanks.” He
wanted to say more, but the hot tears were already building up, and his nose
was tingling again. He shut the door and walked up to the doorway, fumbling
with his keys in his pocket and finding the tissues placed there for him. He
gripped both as he headed in. He raised a hand to Julia from the lit doorway as
she’d waited to make sure he got in all right, and she drove back out to the
club.
Sobbing
again, he headed straight through the left wing sitting room and up the stairs
towards his bedroom. He was halfway upstairs when his grip tightened on the
banister he was using for support, and his sobs slowed. He froze on a step,
holding his hand with the tissues up to his face, just inches away. “eh-HEHshhh! Heh-Ihshhh! Heh-EhSheshh!” He sniffled,
paused, then bent forward with a final, “eh-IHHshuhh!” He stood a moment, wiping his nose
miserably, and leaned against the wall, careful not to knock down any of the
framed pictures that littered the way. With a sigh and a harsh cough, he headed
back downstairs.
There were
two blinking lights awaiting him in the kitchen, and he tapped the button as he
entered, hoping and dreading at the same time. The hiss of water from the sink
covered the beep of the machine, but the voice could still be made out in the
message. “Hey guys, it’s Coyote. I’m playing a gig
this weekend and looking for a place to stay. Give me a call back if you’ve got
room. My—“ He pressed the skip button and leaned
against the counter, gulping down the ice water with particular attention to
soothing the back of his throat. The second beep seemed to echo in the large
room, off the metal stoves and other appliances. “Hey Nik, Tony here. I’ll go ahead and try your cell
unless you get this in the next twenty seconds or however long it takes for—“ He skipped that as well, knowing how Tony could talk about
virtually nothing for an hour. Besides, he wasn’t going to hear anything once
he started sneezing again. “ehh—“
he panted, leaning on the counter, closing his eyes. “ehh-IHHHshhh! Heh-Ehshhh!
hishh!” He felt hot,
dizzy, chilly, stuffy, and all he could think of was the fact that his pager
would not be going off tonight.
He dumped
the empty glass into one side of the sink and made his way back up the stairs.
Each stair seemed harder and harder to climb. And by the time he had reached
the top, he was in tears once again. His bed called loudly from down the hall,
but he was sure a shower would help. With the amount of energy he had left, he
settled for a few splashes of water in the face and on his chest and using the
toilet.
His room
was really starting to look like that of a pitiful sick person, with empty
glasses, clothes all about, and tissues lining the night stand. He’d mumbled
something to the maid about not bothering to clean it when he heard the vacuum
that morning, and was beginning to regret the choice. Still, his bed was
familiar, and seemed to call out to him with a soft mattress and warm blankets
with a secure, comforting embrace. He slipped out of the rest of his clothes,
changed boxers, and crawled under the sheer curtain surrounding the bed and
under the covers. He stashed his pager under his pillow to be sure to hear and
feel it going off, then closed his eyes.
He sniffled
into his pillow, grabbing the pillow beside it and clutching it to his stomach.
He inhaled its scent deeply and though it had taken less than that for him to
cry earlier, he was sobbing again already. Hard, full sobs that accomplished
nothing but made his stomach feel better. Besides, it’s harder to think about
the present or the future when you’re crying about the past. The tears made his
nose run all the more, and he reached over for another tissue, holding it to
his nose as he hugged the pillow tighter and brought his legs up to spoon it
instinctually. A mess. He felt a mess, and he was sure
he looked it. But as he sneezed again “ehh-Ihshhhh!
Ihh…ihh-Hushhh!” and
his head pounded for the rush they had caused in his head, the only way out of
it that he could see was to fall asleep. Maybe he’d wake up looking like his
own pretty boy self.
~ * ~
Toby rushed
up the stairs, beating Nik’s quiet walk, and burst
through the open doorway. He scampered to the bed and lept
upon it, stretching himself out in want at the bottom of the bed. Nik peaked in, seeing eyes fluttering open and a stretch
approaching. “Good morning,” he spoke softly, soothingly. “Sthorry to wake you up. I only wanted to give you…”
He extended a flower and a note it came with.
He might
have leapt with joy at the sight if he didn’t know they were from Nik. But it was typical routine to wake to a fresh flower
on his nightstand and a ‘Good morning, have a good day,” note beside it. He
looked down at his waker, and Toby stared back with
big, black, sorrowful eyes. He’d heard dogs were good at telling when someone
felt miserable. He sat up and reached down, patting Nik’s
chocolate lab’s head, and scratching behind one ear. But he pulled back his
hand and paused a moment, covering his nose and mouth with his other hand. “heh-EMPHSHHHH!
Eh-HEMCHUHH!”
The dog, startled by the nose and violent rocking of the bed, jumped off and
dashed back out the door. Falling back against his pillow, he groaned. Even the
dog didn’t want to be around him like this. His eyes felt heavy, sore, dry. His
nose continued to tickle. His head pounded and his throat felt raw.
The flower
was a white iris, like that of the painting that hung in the drawing room
downstairs. Perhaps a subtle hint that he should pull himself
out of his misery and go downstairs. Nik
pulled back the sheer over one side of the bed and settled down on the edge of
the high bed. The flower and small note that read, “Feel better, Sweetie” were
placed on the nightstand, the flower in a vase that had been there so long it
had probably attached itself to the piece of furniture. Nik
now held out a glass of water, which looked very inviting, and a small bottle
of pills, which didn’t.
“I dod’t wadt to tage
adythig,” he snuffled, burying his face into his
pillow and shutting his eyes tightly.
“It’sth justht
two pills. They’ll help your headache at leastht, lower your fever a
bit.” He reached over and felt the man’s forehead with the back of his palm,
gaining just a brief feel as the man pulled away from him angrily. With a sigh,
he set the glass and bottle down on the nightstand as well. “What, you want to
make yourself feel asth bad physthically
asth you do mentally? You’re trying to sthtay mistherable?”
He squeezed
the pillow tighter against him but made no reply to the obviously accurate
rhetorical questions. He sneezed again, “ehh-Ihhshhh!
ehh-Chishh!” weakly, shivering afterwards and sniffling.
Nik took out a few tissues and reached over, wiping what he
could reach of the man’s nose for him. “Fine, but you are eating brunch.
Auntie’sth
making French toastht and freshly squeezthed
orange juicthe.” His voice turned less
insistent as he leaned over and kissed the man’s cheek. “There are a lot of
people who want to sthee you well and happy again. You justh call down to the kitchen on the
intercom if you need anything, all right?”
He nodded,
sniffling, just wishing he’d go and spare him further dealings with humanity
for the time being. He didn’t want to be made the feel better. He didn’t want
to be around sweet, soft Nik who was making him feel
a little better. He didn’t want to admit all this was his fault, his doing. His
watch read 1:30, which was the
earliest he’d woken up in a long while. Of course, he’d gone to bed quite early
in comparison as well.
He trudged
out of bed, shivering as he met the air conditioning without the warm comforter
on top of him. He acknowledged that it was probably not this cold in reality,
but his fever made him feel hot and chilled and not at all right. So he grabbed
his bathrobe as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. His head pounded along
with his heart, and he could feel it pulsing in his temples and at the base of
his neck. After using the toilet and washing his hands, he took a peak at the
medicine cabinet. Staring black at him was a package of cold medicine. And according to the date stamped on the box it still had a year
and a half of good use to it. Standing, sniffling, he debated taking
some of it. But as he caught his face in the mirror’s reflection, he realized
how terrible he looked. And it certainly wasn’t going to be something like
medicine that would make him feel better. He sat down on the toilet seat, hand on his forehead as he let the pounding die down.
His nose began to tickle again, and he held his hand over, without the energy
or time to reach over to the other side of the sink for the tissues. “ehh…heh…ihh…” he could
feel it coming, it just wouldn’t come out. “ehhh…eh-eh-eh…”
He wavered, waiting for it to strike. “eh-HETSHHH!
Ehh-Ihhshhhh! Heshh!” Now he did
pull himself up and take a few tissues. He rubbed, and gave his nose a good
blow, feeling somewhat clearer, though his head pounded again angrily.
On the way
back to the bedroom, he ducked into another room, dark and cave-like. There
were no real lights, only small red, green and orange dots speckling the
shelves and floor. “Good morning,” he spoke out loud and one of the monitors
zipped to life, casting a soft blue glow over the room.
“Voice print match. Good afternoon, Sir,” an electronic
voice answered him. A beautiful classic instrumental version of Queen’s
Bohemian Rhapsody began playing in the background. “You have fifty-eight new
e-mails. Would you like the weather or hockey scores first?”
“No,” he
answered with a yawn, plopping himself down on the cushy desk chair in front of
the monitor and reclined a bit, propping his feet up on the desk beside the
keyboard. “The e-mail, please. And turn on screens
five and six for me.” Around the room, two more monitors flipped on, glowing in
monochrome green. He skimmed his e-mails, finding none from anyone he really
wished or needed to talk to. He padded across the room and gazed at the other
monitors a moment. “Amount of processing devoted to these calculations?” he
asked, leaning closer and tracing his finger along the line graph on one of
them.
“Sixty-seven percent currently. Ninety-two percent average
since program was begun two days, nineteen hours, twenty-two minutes and forty
seconds ago,” the voice replied.
“Good,” he
said. “Please turn them off now.” He hesitated, drawn to the computer, but also
back to a warm bed. He sniffled and clamped his hand over the lower half of his
face again. “eh-Heshh!
Ehh-Ihhshhhh!” he sneezed, fishing out a tissue
from his pocket and wiping his nose again.
“Bless
you!” the computer responded happily.
With a
chuckle, “Who programmed you to say that?”
“You did,
Sir. Standard politeness subroutine twenty-four.”
Nodding, “Well, sniffle, thank you then. Sniff!
Sniff!”
“Pardon? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
With the tissue
lifted to his nose, he tried again. “I said thank you.”
“You’re
welcome.”
With
another soft chuckle, he spoke up, “I’m going back to bed. I’ll do work later.”
“Goodnight,
Sir. Sleep well.” And it shut itself back off, music and all, leaving the room
in near pitch-blackness, aside from the few small lights of color on the varied
devices.
He closed
the door behind him and headed back to his bedroom as he heard footsteps on the
stairs coming up. Shedding his bathrobe with a shiver, he sunk back into bed
beneath his covers. He sniffled, pulling the tissue box over in bed with him. “ehh…heh-Ihhshhh! ihhHeshh! Ehh-IHHshhh!”
“Bless you,
Sweetie,” came a rather aged voice from the doorway.
Blowing his
nose, he looked up to see Al in the doorway with a tray of food. He beckoned
the man to him with one hand as he finished blowing.
Al walked
in and set the tray down on the man’s desk. He then circled the bed, pulling
the sheer curtain back , twisting and tying it to each
bedpost. Then he recovered the tray and settled on the edge of the opened bed. “Brought you some brunch. And you’re to eat at least a
little of it.” He leaned in and whispered, “Nik wants
to see the orange juice gone and at least four pieces of toast eaten. But if
you only feel up to a little I’ll fake it for you, as long as you eat some.” He
smiled, reaching over and plumping a pillow up against the headboard. “Can you
sit up for me?”
He pulled
himself to sit up, sniffled, and accepted the tray. He certainly wasn’t the
least bit hungry, but Al was being extra nice, even for Al who had nice as his
only personality trait. So he picked at his food, drinking a little orange
juice against the sharp pain in his throat, choking down some of the melon
balls, even managing to nibble at a piece of French toast. “S’yummy,”
he commented to Al before a swallow. “Wish I were hungrier.”
Al nodded,
smiling. “Just eat what you can.” Al was not his real name, but so nick-named
because of his resemblance in looks and kindness to the butler in the Batman
series. He was older, as far as men go, hitting sixty-eight this year. His gray
hair was always in perfect order, perhaps he woke up like that or perhaps he
spent time making it so, but he always looked the same. Same
endearing wrinkles, same gentle eyes, same hair and same outfit. He wore
slacks and black shoes almost all the time, but his shirt varied depending on
the occasion. To relax out by the pool, he wore a striped t-shirt, while to do
some chores around the house in spring he wore a short-sleeved dress shirt. In
winter and fall it was long sleeved or a sweater. To cook many times he’d wear
nothing but his undershirt, revealing a tattoo on his left arm, the story
behind which he never told. It had been great fun the last ten years to guess
at it, and so far they’d not guessed it properly. “Finished?” Al asked based on
the pause in eating.
Shaking his
head, he reached over and procured a tissue. “No… have to…” he stopped, eyes
closing. “ehh-Emphshh!
Ihh-Hehshhh!” sneezed to his side, away from the
food and away from Al, more importantly. “’Scuse be,”
he snuffled, giving his nose a quick rub and blow.
“Bless you
again,” he stole a piece of toast and took a few bites. “Have you taken
anything for that sniffle?”
He shook
his head. “No,” he felt as if he were answering the question for the hundredth
time. “I’m not really that sick.”
Nodding,
“Have you taken anything for the heartache, then?”
With another shake of his head, “No,” very pointedly, losing
patience. This time he took a last sip of orange juice and pushed the
tray away, rejected. “Done.” He wiggled back under the
covers before he could be stopped or have Al protest.
Al
collected the tray, setting it back down on the desk. “Is there anything I can
get you, then? Television guide, turn on the music, a nice cup of tea,
anything?”
He shook
his head, sinking back into misery. He didn’t want anything, especially
anything of the sort that might possibly cheer him up.
“All right,
then.” Al bent over him in bed, kissing his forehead. “Call me if you need me,
Sweetie. I’ll be cleaning in the left wing downstairs until dinnertime. Sounds
like we might have a Coyote in our midst soon, so I’m clearing a little space
for his equipment.” Al pulled the blankets up to his chin and tucked around
them, giving the man small hugs as he did so.
“Thanks,
Auntie Al,” he mumbled, the food having made him somewhat sleepy again.
The man
patted him gently and, taking the tray with him, headed out. “That’s what I’m
here for.”
~ * ~
He didn’t
sleep long at all. In fact, just a few hours before he woke of his own accord,
sniffling and feeling rather dismal. There was no warm body beside him. And the
familiar smell of the pillow was overwhelming. That gentle mix of sweat,
shampoo and cologne that was all he wanted to breathe for the rest of his life.
He’d done everything right… and it still hadn’t worked. Tears began to flow
again, making his body shake and his breath catch. He rolled over, coughing,
ignoring the pillow, clutching his stomach, feeling sick. His headache was
overpowering and the medicine just out of reach on the nightstand. He closed
his eyes, ignoring it as well. Nothing would make him feel better right now. He
slowed his breathing, calmed himself to the point of just a few tears. And his
head began to hurt just a little less. Perhaps trying to fall back to sleep
again?
But before
he had the chance, his nose had other plans. It tickled, and he wiggled his
nose, reaching back over for the box he found he’d rolled over in his last sleep.
It was squashed but the tissues undamaged. So he took a few, sniffling and
drying his face as he waited for the sneezes to build up. It certainly didn’t
take long before “ehh…ih-heh-EHSHHH!
ehhKeshhh! ihhshhh! ehhhhshh!” he sneezed, head pounding, face
burning. He shivered and pulled a blanket up to his chest but unbuttoned his
shirt a little to let air in.
“Sthweetie?” came a hesitant sound
from the doorway.
He sat up,
hand to head, trying to hide a sudden onslaught of sniffles behind a crumpled tissue.
“Nik, hey. Time to go to the club? I can be ready in five. Just give me
a second.” He threw back the covers and met a strong, violent shiver.
Nik glided over quickly, a hand on the man’s chest, pulling
the blankets up again. “Actually, I’m not leaving for another hour. It’sth sthtill early yet.” He paused, looking the man over
a moment before saying softly, “Damn, you look terrible.”
He moaned,
hand to forehead, turning into his pillow as the room and Nik
spun about him.
“Hey, no, it’sth okay…” he reached out
and lay his palm flat against the hot forehead. “Shhh, just calm down, all right?”
He
sniffled, nodding, a few tears escaping down his cheek but otherwise still
composed.
Nik pulled a comb out of his back pocket and set to work on
what hair wasn’t currently mashed into the pillow. “I’ll get you a washcloth to
clean your facthe, can you sthtop
crying long enough to talk to me a moment?”
“Yeah,” he
managed, swallowing tears hard. He turned his head and pulled both elbows
underneath him, propping himself up just a little off the bed. “Sorry.”
Nik nodded that it was all right and straightened the man’s
hair out a bit. “Okay, Sthweetie. Now, I want you to sthtay in bed tonight. I don’t want you coming to the club.
You’re ill, and you really look it.” He paused, looking him over, buttoning the
top button of his shirt. He ducked out a moment to get a washcloth from the
bathroom.
It was
lukewarm and very soothing to his tired, tear-stained face. But it made him
feel exponentially better, to the point that he actually reached over and took
a few sips of the water from earlier that day. His eyes hurt, and head still
pounded. In fact, his throat was still scratchy and his head congested and his
stomach still hurting. But for some reason he did feel much better. “Nik, what’s the matter?” Why all this trouble to make him
presentable? And as he looked into Nik’s now green
eyes, he felt a surge rush through him. He could feel the answer. Excited, he
sat up a little more, rubbing his nose with the side of his hand. “Nik?”
Nik nodded. “You’ve got a visthitor
downsthtairs who wantsth to
sthee you. I told him you might be asthleep but he sat right down and sthaid
he’d wait.”
The man’s
eyes widened. “I’ll see him, yes, please send him up!”
With a
smile, “Now don’t get too excthited, Sthweetie. I don’t want you passthing
out before he can even get upsthtairsth.”
He agreed,
trying to calm down. But his heart was speeding, and his head thumping in pain
to match. He sniffled and blew his nose again. It wasn’t particularly clear,
but he wouldn’t be sneezing just during arrival at this rate.
The
footsteps were soft but terribly familiar as they made their way up the stairs
and into the bedroom. They stopped a foot from the bed, hovering with their owner
to look down upon the bed. A hand reached out to a bedpost to steady himself as a shaky voice spoke. “I got a call… said you were
really sick and I, uh,” a broken-into smile, “I got a speeding ticket from
racing over here.”
The man
gave a laugh, feeling the need to burst into tears again but restraining
himself. He wanted to blurt out any number of things. He wanted to plead, to
beg, to lavish all the love in his heart upon him. But he remained silent,
aside from slight sniffle.
His voice
went back to soft and worried, “Look… Dominic, I’m sorry.” He sighed, looking
down at his feet. “I’m sorry I got scared. I’m sorry I ran. That I didn’t call,
that I didn’t come by the club, that I didn’t come over sooner.”
The man,
Dominic, swallowed hard, and padded the other side of his bed, the side with
the pillow, in invitation. “Come and sit down, Jamie?” He quickly pushed the
tissue box out of the way and placed the pillow back in its proper position to
make room.
Jamie
nodded and walked over, sliding onto the bed and lying down to face him. They
were a foot and a half away, but Dom could already smell him through a slightly
stuffed nose. Jamie reached out and took Dom’s hand in his. “I know I was a
bastard… but I don’t want to lose you.”
Dominic
smiled, rubbing his nose a little with his other hand. “And why’s that?”
Softly, blushing a little, “Because I love you.”
Dominic
broke his grasp and reached out with both arms, pulling Jamie to him in a warm,
tight hug. “There,” he said with a reassuring squeeze. “Was that really so
hard?”
They both
laughed and pulled back out of the hug. Jamie, a red-haired, freckle-faced man
two years Nik and Dom’s senior, shook his head. “Hey,
are you all right? I mean, you don’t look, uh, your best.” He reached over and
put his hand on Dom’s cheek, then felt his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning
up!”
Dominic
gave a weak smile, reaching out for the tissues again. “You think I’m Jesus,
and still I’m the sick... one…?” He trailed off, nose twitching. He turned his
head, directing himself toward a tissue in his hand. “ehh-IHHshhh! Ihshhh!
Eh-hehshhh!” He sniffled and gave an embarrassed
blow or two. “’Scuse me,” he mumbled, throwing the
tissues onto his nightstand.
Jamie
leaned over him, chests brushing, reaching out with one hand. He pulled back
with the bottle of pain medication and the glass of water held by the rim.
“When was the last time you took some of this?”
Dom shook
his head. “Haven’t taken it at all. I didn’t really
feel like feel… feeling better.” His breath caught again. “ehhh…” He reached over and brought a
few more tissues to his nose. “Sorry, I… ihh…
ehh-heh-EHSHH! EhUshh!
ehh-Ihhhshhh! Ehshhhh!”
“G’bless you.” Jamie shook two
pills out for him to take and handed them over with the water. “Will you take
some now, then?” Nodding, Dominic popped the pills in and gulped down the
water. “There we are. Look, are you going to be all right? Should I call your
doctor to come over?”
“I’ll be ok
now, my love.” He sniffled and closed his eyes, holding back more tears, these
being happy ones. “Just a bad cold now,” he admitted.
Jamie
nodded and still gave a soft kiss to his lips. “Good, cuz
I want my pretty boy looking pretty again soon so we can go out dancing at your
club.” He eased the man to turn over to his stomach and sat beside him,
reaching out to massage gently at first, then more substantially.
Dominic,
face in the pillow, nodded. “I only own half of it.” He sniffled and yawned,
then looked back with one eye at Jamie at his side. “But I’ll go dancing with
you any time.” He sniffled, looking desperate for a tissue for a moment. But
Jamie held one ready, up to his face. “ehh-Ihhshhh!
eh-Cheshhh! Heh-Ehhhshh!” Jamie took a new tissue and wiped
his nose for him.
“G’bless again. Just feel better, Dommy, okay?” he was the one to plead.
Nodding, “Already feeling better.” The medicine was starting
to kick in, he could feel. His stomach felt fine, and he was sleepy again. He
began to ask whether he could take a short nap.
“You look
tired. Please take a nap, Dom.” Jamie tugged the covers up to his shoulders,
tucking them beneath his chin as he turned to his side. He pushed the dark
strands of hair from his hot forehead and ran two fingers gently up and down
the soft, pale cheek. “I’ll be right here when you wake, I promise.”
With a
peaceful smile, the man closed his soft brown eyes and let himself drift off to
sleep again, this time feeling remarkably better and on his way to slowly
recovering.