Cruel Trust

Twelve

The next morning, my phone sang out its annoying tune to wake me up. When I clicked it off, I noticed Liam was gone. He must have had an early appointment at the office. I stood, but I felt very dizzy, and I dropped back down on the bed, closing my eyes. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and I broke into a cold sweat.

I'd never felt this way before in my life. Not exactly sick, not exactly drunk, but almost like a mixture of the two.

When I felt it was possible, I stood and walked to the bathroom as if I were walking on a tightrope. When I reached the sink, I put my hands on the cold porcelain and looked in the mirror. My skin was pale, and I looked feverish.

"There is no way I am going to work like this," I said out loud. I used the restroom, went back to my phone and typed out a text to my boss, Carla.

Carla, it's Charlotte. I woke up feeling terrible...I can't explain it. I won't be able to make it in. I don't have any appointments today; I was just going to be in the office catching up on paperwork. Please confirm you got this message. Thank you.

It wasn't long before I got a text back.

Oh no, sweetheart. No worries at all. Take care of yourself. If you need tomorrow too, we can cover you. This is why you have sick days. Feel better.

I was so lucky to have an understanding boss. I told her as much, crawled back under the covers, and went back to sleep.

When I woke up several hours later, instead of feeling better, I felt worse. I had thrown the cover to the end of the bed and kicked my pajama pants off. I dragged myself out of bed and back into the bathroom, rooting through the drawers for a thermometer. When I found one, I sanitized it, stuck it under my tongue, and waited.

It beeped insistently. 102.1. My mouth dropped. I hadn't had a fever that high since I had the flu when I was ten.

My eyelids dropped when I realized that must be what it is—the flu. It's going around all the schools I frequent, and Roberta had it last week. I felt a little off yesterday but hadn't paid attention to it; now I had to let it run its course.

I decided I'd drive across town back to my house so Liam wouldn't end up with it. I had to laugh though; after last night, he was probably a goner. I threw on some sweats, packed my stuff into my backpack, and headed downstairs to find Millie. I left Liam a note explaining and drove the ten miles back to my house.

When I got home, I let Millie out of her carrier and threw myself into the recliner. I turned the TV on, caught a rerun of The Golden Girls and fell asleep before Rose told her first St. Olaf story.

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing incessantly. "Ugh," I grumbled, picking it up from the arm of my recliner.

Andrew.

"Hello?" I croaked.

"Charlotte? What's wrong?"

"I think I might be dying," I joked, holding my hand against my forehead.

"What?" he barked, the alarm in his voice real.

"I'm kidding...but I am sick."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I have the flu. Dizzy, achy, feverish."

"Are you at Covington's?" He had taken to not even using Liam's first name.

"No, I'm at home. I didn't want to infect him. He doesn't even know I'm sick. He went to work early."

"Oh. Well, I'm coming over then. I'll bring you some soup, Sprite, the latest Cosmo, and we can watch something on Netflix."