PTXperience(s)

Emergen-C

Avi woke to a tangle of sheets, his hair a sweaty mop, his throat burning. Blindly he reached for the glass of water he kept on his night table and groaned when he found it empty.

"Water," he croaked to the empty room. "Water, please, I'm dying."

He coughed. His throat caught fire. With a gravelly sigh he dropped his face into his pillow. "I'm dead," he moaned. "This is the end of Avi. Tell Esther I love her and apologize to Kevin for all the times I ogled his Beyonce."

"S'okay. She only has eyes for me," Kevin quipped from the living room.

"Water," Avi pleaded again.

"Your legs broke, too?" Kevin asked, but he obediently stood and went to the kitchen. A few moments later he returned with a glass of water. "Here. No ice, no lemon, no little umbrella..."

Avi pushed himself up on trembling arms and slid backward until the wall was at his back. His shirt felt like it had melted to his skin. With a frown he peered at the glass and managed not to slosh it all over the blankets as he brought it to his mouth.

It was ice cold. He only had a moment to register the shock of it hitting the back of his tongue before his reflexes took over and helped him swallow the whole thing. He came up for air with a gasp and coughed painfully into the back of his hand. "Aah..." he whimpered, cringing. "Don't remember asking for razor blades."

"Sorry, man. Maybe I got some DayQuil around here somewhere."

A search, however, turned up nothing. Avi burrowed himself into his blankets, resolved not to move for anything short of a wildebeest stampede.

The stampede arrived half an hour later, bearing coffee and something that smelled an awful lot like Cinnabons. Avi tried to pretend he had stepped out for the day.

But it wasn't to be. Five minutes after sailing through the front door in a tumult of half-sung greetings and raucous laughter two dark-haired demons from the pits of Hades piled themselves on top of him, poking and prodding until he shouted and heaved them half-way onto the floor.

"Aww, poor Catherine, all sicky-poo," one of the demons crooned, putting the back of his hand to Avi's head. "Got a little fever. Mommy knows what to do about that. Bring me my bag."

A rattle of pills went a long way to earning Avi's forgiveness, and another tall glass of water sealed the deal. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to massage away a sinus headache as he waited for the analgesics to do their magic.

"Here, I got this," a blond-haired angel stated with a snap of his fingers as he settled beside Avi and began to press cool fingers to his temples.

"Ohh," Avi moaned, doing his best not to simply lean into Scott until his immune system decided to do its job. "That's awesome. Feel free to move in anytime. Beyonce's got enough love for three."

Scott chuckled. "That's okay. Something tells me at least one of us would become a homicidal maniac if I lived here."

"So...what about the thing?" Kirstie asked from the end of the bed, legs drawn up under her like a little bow. "We can't exactly reschedule. Do we tell them Avi's too sick, or...?"

"No." Avi shook his head firmly and grimaced as his temples throbbed. "I'm going."

"I'b go-ink," Mitch mimicked him. "You can't even pronounce your consonants. How are you supposed to sing anything?"

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, I'b standink by..."

Kevin guffawed from the doorway. "Nice one, Kirstie."

"Thank you."

"It doesn't matter. I can't just not show up. The fans..."

"Don't want you sneezing your way through the performance."

"But they're expecting..."

"A bass singer who can reach F#1 without his voice cracking."

He leaned back against the wall. "So what am I supposed to do?"

The sound of the front door opening and a staccato set of marching footsteps echoed through the apartment. "Where is he?"

"In here!" Mitch called out and then smiled an apology as Avi winced.

"How does Esther know I'm sick?"

Kevin raised his hand. "Thought you could use a little expert assistance."

"Great."

"There you are. Okay, everyone out. Looks like I've got my work cut out for me."

"Esther..."

"Quiet, Avi. You're lucky it's me and not grandma. Now lie down." She slammed the door with a foot as the others trickled out.

The next hour passed with a variety of sounds emanating from behind the closed door. Water running from the on-suite bathroom; raised voices; heavy footsteps; a creak of bed springs; an occasional yelp of pain; one very long silence that made them wonder if one of them had killed the other.

And then Avi emerged looking much more like himself: showered, dressed, maybe a little tired, perhaps a tiny bit sheepish...

And Esther with a triumphant smile on her face. "There. Much better. Right, Avriel?"

"Uh," Avi grunted noncommittally.

"Now, on with the show! Hurry up and eat breakfast, we have to be there in an hour."

The group finished their cold coffees, ate spongy, sticky cinnamon buns and piled onto the bus. As they made their way to their destination, Kevin took a closer look at Avi, noting his pallor. "You all right, man?"

"No; I feel terrible."

"You sound better, at least."

"I smell like a pharmacy."

"Better than looking like roadkill."

"Not sure I agree."

The show went off without a hitch, however. As they sang the others kept glancing surreptitiously at their bearded member as if waiting for him to simply pitch forward into unconsciousness, but he seemed in top form. He smiled; he danced; he sang perfectly...

Until he had to hit that low F.

As they got about halfway into Natural Disaster his voice rumbled out of the speakers. The floor vibrated. The very molecules in the air seemed to bounce as the sound echoed around the room.

Everyone paused, gaping in surprise.

Avi cleared his throat faintly. "Sorry," he apologized. "Got a little cold. Let me try that again." He took a breath and, after a few moments preparing himself, launched back into the F.

Something fell from a wall and smashed on the floor.

The audience went wild.

Kevin laughed and grabbed Avi by the shoulders. "Oh man! We gotta bottle this and start putting it in your food!"

Avi opened his mouth to argue against having a cold for the rest of his singing career but instead turned and sneezed explosively behind him.

Esther dropped her head into her hands. "Next time," she muttered grumpily to Damien, "remind me just to leave him in bed."