we loved with a love that was more than love // JENLISA

20

-Lisa-

You wake up feeling like shit.

Every time you swallow a million tiny daggers dig into your throat, and your head is absolutely pounding. You snooze through your first alarm, skipping your morning run, and by the time your second alarm goes off Jennie is out of bed.

As you slowly make your way to the bathroom you can hear her and Ella chatting away in the kitchen. Normally you'd be down there with them. Spending the mornings as a family is one of the best parts of your day, and you've been running earlier and earlier to maximize your time together.

It pains you to miss out today, but if you don't get in the shower within the next five minutes you'll be late to a meeting with a deep-pocketed donor who just might fund an initiative your non-profit is launching.

You're rinsing shampoo from your hair when Jennie knocks on the door and pokes her head in.

"Ella just left for school so I'm going to run some errands before starting on work. You need anything?"

"No, I'm good," you say, surprised at how scratchy your voice sounds.

"You sure about that? I can pick you up some cough medicine. Or the antidote to the bubonic plague."

You laugh and it hurts. "I'm okay."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Jennie sighs. "Love you, you stoic nerd."

There's a pause before the door clicks closed. After you get out of the shower you see that Jennie wrote "go back to bed" on the fogged-up mirror.

***

-Jennie-

Your wife is ridiculous.

You love the fact that she's so passionate about her job, which is more of a calling, since she runs a truly awesome charity that changes the lives of at-risk kids. The place probably couldn't function without her, but it wouldn't kill her to take a day off every now and then. Especially when she looks like she's on death's doorstep, like she did this morning.

You're in line at CVS with a basket full of candy and cold medicine when she texts you to say that, despite the plea you wrote on the bathroom mirror, she has to go into the office to meet with some philanthropist.

You write back, pointing out that the donor might not be in a charitable mood if Lisa gives them smallpox, but she replies with a laughing emoji and a promise to call you when the meeting gets out.

Once you get home your inner caretaker kicks in and you start preparing for your patient. You grab the pillows from your bed and some clean blankets from the linen closet and make a little nest on the living room couch. Then you take the cold syrup, ginger ale, and hard candy (butterscotch, her favorite) that you bought at the store and arrange them on the coffee table.

After that you try to work on a graphic design project for a new client, but your mind keeps wandering back to your stubborn, suffering wife, and eventually you give up.

When Lisa calls you to check in you're already in the car, just a few blocks away from her building.

***

-Ella-

Waffles is the only one there to greet you at the door when you get home from school.

This happens every once in awhile, usually when your Ma gets hyper-focused on a work project, so you're not worried. You pat Waffles, slip off your backpack, and pour yourself a glass of water.

There's a reusable shopping bag hanging from the back of a chair and some ripped plastic packaging on the kitchen table. Upon further inspection you see the packaging is for a medicine of some kind, and you frown. What if Jennie got sick?