just for a bloody contract | Roman Godfrey au

ch. 22 • why wouldn't you eat

I ran up to Roman's room, concerned. As soon as I opened the door, I saw his weak, paler-than-usual face looking down. His body was hunched over. His suit was replaced by a grey t-shirt and pants. Suddenly, he jerked up and ran into the bathroom. It looked like he threw up.

There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the side of his bed. Roman returned and got into bed. "I don't feel so good," he groggily said.

"I can see that. Didn't I tell you to eat?" I shook my head and looked for a thermometer.

After some looking, I found it and stuck it in his mouth. "I'm fine, he said. Don't worry, he said," I mocked.

Roman groaned as I took the thermometer out. "It doesn't look like you have a fever. You're probably dehydrated. And weak since you ate nothing for more than 24 hours. Throwing up might have been induced by gastric issues. See, this is why I told you to eat. But you never listen."

"Can you stop mothering me? Fuck, I have a headache," Roman squeezed his eyes shut and held onto his head.

"And why on earth are you drinking right now? You don't have to be in healthcare to know you probably shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. Goodness, Roman. Anyway, what do you need?" I put my hands on my hips and looked at him. It was weird seeing him sick. For the first time, instead of this intimidating, dominant person, I just saw a feeble one.

"Blood," he said.

My hands dropped and I looked at him wide-eyed. Oh right, that little thing. "Um, are you sure you should have some without real food?"

"Shee-it," Roman groaned, still holding his head, with his eyes closed. "Yeah, maybe get me some meat. There's meat in the fridge. And a blood bag. Then close the door and don't come in."

"Are you su-"

"Yes, yes. I'm fucking sure. Go!" he yelled with the little energy he had left. I gulped and ran through the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen to retrieve what he needed. There was some steak in the fridge that I threw in the microwave to warm up. Then I began to look for the blood. I didn't know if this was real blood or blood substitute. He had hid it well behind packets of leafy greens.

I looked at the tag on the bag. It read "Type- A. Rh factor- negative. Godfrey Institute for Biomedical Technologies." This was the real deal. I hoped it was some type of donation and not proof of an innocent life lost.

The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the steak and took that and the chilled blood back to Roman's room. I rapidly put the two items on the floor, close to him and left. I didn't want to see what he was doing. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't even want to imagine it.

I went to my room and decided to take my second shower of the day. The type you take to wash away your thoughts, not necessarily from cleanliness, although that's a bonus. The smell of my coffee shower gel, the warm water drizzling down, and the silence was helpful to remove my thoughts. I focused on the happy things. Like visiting Letha today. I smiled thinking of how Letha talked about Peter. And how before, Peter talked about Letha. I wish someone would talk about me that way. But that wouldn't happen. At least not while I was stuck in this contract.

After the calming shower, I climbed out and wrapped myself in a towel and got out. As soon as I did, I heard someone knocking on the door. "Come in," I said, even though I wasn't really wearing anything. It was Shelley.

"What's up Shell? How did raking with Comway go?"

"Good. There's a lot of pretty flowers. They'll die soon, though," she said. "Roman isn't feeling well."

"Yeah, I know. Did you go into his room?" I asked as I turned the other way and wore my clothes.

"I peeked in. He was asleep. Is he going to be okay?" Shelley asked. "You're sort of the medical person around here."

"He's fine, Shell. Don't worry. He just avoided eating for a while, so his stomach got upset."

"Oh, okay. Thank you for checking on him," Shelley smiled. "Sorry I came in right now."

"There's nothing to be sorry about and nothing to thank me for. You love him a lot and care about him. I get it," I assured her.

Shelley smiled and left, possibly to go to her room. I went to pay Roman a visit. Sure enough, he was dead asleep. The way his soft brown hair fell on his face looked so innocent. I saw the blood packet, now ripped apart and licked absolutely spotless. He was hungry for sure. There were no remnants of the steak either. I discarded the package and took the plate downstairs. 

Comway was just starting up dinner. I offered him cookies and told him to take the rest of the night and tomorrow off. The poor man worked too hard. I cooked some garlic butter chicken and a salad. Would do. And of course, there would be cookies for dessert. I called Shelley down. She was more than excited to have dinner cooked by me. She liked my food. I wasn't sure if Roman would come down. He didn't. So Shelley and I enjoyed a nice, quiet dinner with no second-hand smoking involved tonight. Then I saved the rest of the chicken for Roman when he woke up and for Comway.

I think for the first time in my life, I actually felt like a typical wife. It was a weird realization and feeling. But surprisingly, a good one of sorts.