Honesty - SF8 (16 page)

She flew out of bed so fast that she tripped on the sheets, sliding into the room just as Ryan struggled to sit up. She was only off the mattress a few inches when she closed her eyes and violently retched all over herself and the bedclothes, making the most pathetic noises that Jamie had ever heard come from a human being as she vomited again and again. The smell and the sounds almost made Jamie join her in emptying her stomach, but she fought her own churning guts to comfort her partner as best she could. Climbing onto the bed, she rubbed her back while she spoke to her in a low soothing tone, trying to will her poor stomach to settle down. After a few minutes Ryan’s stomach was completely empty, but she couldn’t stop retching. Powerful spasms rocked her whole body as she shook with a frightening intensity. After an interminable time she finally stopped and fell back limply against the mattress, her body covered in sweat, unable to do anything more than issue a heart-rending groan.

"My poor, poor baby," Jamie murmured as she gently stroked her pale, clammy face. "Just rest a few minutes, and then I’ll get you cleaned up."

The smells in the room were quickly turning Jamie’s stomach, so she decided that she needed to get busy. Pulling away from Ryan’s wet body she went to the door and called for Mia, enormously pleased when her roommate emerged from her room. "Ryan’s sick to her stomach. It’s really gross, but I need to change the sheets and her clothes. Do you mind?"

"No prob," Mia said immediately, sliding past Jamie to approach Ryan’s side. "Poor sick little girl," she crooned, pulling the soiled top sheet from her body. While Mia worked on the sheet, Jamie carefully lifted the wet, soiled T-shirt from Ryan’s shaking body and then slipped her sweatpants off. The bottom sheet wasn’t soiled, but it was wet from perspiration. The pair worked together, loosening the left side of the sheet and immediately replacing it with a clean bottom sheet, then carefully rolling Ryan over until she lay on top of the fresh fabric. Finishing the bed in the same fashion, they covered Ryan’s bare body with the clean sheet and a heavy blanket.

Ryan was awake during this entire process, but she once again fell into a state of wary watchfulness, saying nothing, seemingly drawing all of her energies inward. It worried Jamie to have so little interaction with her, but she reasoned that Ryan needed all of her strength just to fight the virus and simply had nothing left to share.

While the dark woman shivered, Mia whispered to Jamie, "I know she’d feel better if she was nice and clean. Would it be insane to try to get her into the shower?"

"Yeah, I think it would be," Jamie mused, "even though I agree with you. Maybe that sponge bath, huh?"

"It won’t be as good as a real shower, but she’s really ripe, Hon. Smelling bad always makes you feel worse."

It took a long while, and they had to allow for many shiver sessions, but they finally had Ryan as clean as they could get her. Mia astounded Jamie with her efficient professional demeanor, not making one crack about Ryan’s physical attributes.

"I think I’ll get into bed with her and help warm her up," Jamie reasoned, since Ryan had been shivering nonstop for quite a few minutes.

"Okay, Hon. Call me if you need anything else, okay?"

"You are an absolute lifesaver, Mia. We’d be lost without you."

"I love you both," Mia said, giving her old friend a kiss.

Jamie must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Maeve’s gentle hand was shaking her awake. "Jamie, dear," she said softly.

"Huh?" She managed to sit up, rubbing at her eyes as she fought to focus. Carefully disentangling herself from Ryan’s body, she got to her feet, swaying a little as she did so. When she focused on Maeve’s face, she noticed that the shock of her appearance was giving the older woman a tough time. Her hair was standing up in some places, plastered down in others. She was wearing one of Ryan’s wrinkled T-shirts and sweats that had both seen better days. Her color was dreadful, both from worry and lack of sleep, and her eyes were dull and red rimmed. She started to tell the sympathetic woman how glad she was to see her, but instead broke into a sob that threatened to take her to the floor.

Martin was obviously standing right outside the door because he entered and grabbed her around the waist and carefully led her to the love seat, squatting down in front of her. "What’s wrong, Sweetheart?"

"She’s just not getting better," she sniffed. "I think we have to take her to the hospital." Maeve sat down on the other side and slid an arm around her waist. Jamie dropped her head onto her convenient shoulder and sobbed into the fabric of her cotton blouse. "I can’t keep her awake long enough to get her to drink. And her fever won’t go down a bit. I finally got some soup into her this afternoon, but it didn’t sit well on her stomach and she threw it all up." She shivered with the memory, recalling how absolutely powerless she'd felt when she had to watch that display. "She just seems to be getting worse, and I’m not strong enough to make her do what she doesn’t want to do," she said as her sobs grew stronger. Maeve ran a hand through her hair as she patted her back tenderly.

"It’ll be all right, Honey," she soothed. "Maybe she’d be better off in the hospital overnight."

"Let’s check her out before we make any decisions," Martin suggested. "I’d like to take her temperature again and then see how her stomach is."

"She’s naked, Martin. Let me get some clothes on her first. She’s a little shy around her Da." She gave him a fond smile and moved to her partner as Martin left the room, sighing heavily as she considered another round of struggles to get her dressed.

"Let me help you, Sweetheart," Maeve said. "As a matter of fact, let me get her dressed while you take a nice, hot shower. You obviously haven’t had a moment to yourself today."

"That bad?" Jamie asked, casting a quick glance into the mirror to confirm her suspicions.

"Let’s just say you’re not up to your usual high standards," Maeve said diplomatically.

"Are you sure you can get her dressed, Maeve? She’s a handful."

"I’m stronger than I look, Jamie. And regrettably, I’ve learned an awful lot about nursing in my 57 years."

Jamie just patted her arm in understanding, hoping fervently that she never had to learn the tough lessons that Maeve had been forced to face.

When Jamie emerged from the shower, she felt substantially better. She dressed carefully, trying to force some normalcy by at least looking decent. To her absolute shock, Ryan was sitting up, sipping a cup of tea with her father and aunt, and munching on a couple of cookies, or biscuits as the O’Flahertys referred to them.

When Ryan saw her she lifted her mug, saying, "All I needed was some of my aunt’s tea, Jamie."

"Do you feel better?"

"Yeah. Aunt Maeve got me awake and took my temperature. It’s down!" she said, with one of her first smiles of the week.

Jamie felt her forehead, detecting a noticeable lessening of the raging fever. "What was it, Maeve?" she asked.

"Just a little over 100," Maeve revealed. "I think our dear heart is on the road to recovery."

"I know it sounds odd, but I think I hit rock bottom this afternoon when I was throwing up. Maybe I’m on the upswing now, huh?" Ryan said with hope-filled eyes.

"God, I hope so," Jamie sighed, leaning over to kiss her partner’s cooling forehead.

"Jamie has been so awesomely wonderful," Ryan enthused, smiling at her partner. "She’s taken such good care of me. Against overwhelming odds," she added. "Lord knows I’m no fun to be around when I’m sick."

"No argument there, " Martin said, seeing no need to sugarcoat the truth.

"Oh, she’s not that bad," Jamie insisted, sitting by her partner on the bed. "Once we got over the disappointment from missing the volleyball game, she’s been very compliant."

"It helps that I was out of my rational mind," Ryan reminded her. "When you could hold me down with one finger on my chest I knew I was in trouble."

"The good news," Martin decided, "is that if the trend holds, you’ll have another 20 years before she’s this sick again."

"20 years!" Ryan cried. "I couldn’t handle this again that soon!"

Later that night, just before Jamie climbed into bed, she asked, "Do you need anything, Baby?"

Ryan looked a little shy as she batted her eyes and asked, "Would you hold me tight? I feel awfully little tonight."

Jamie smiled down at her, then kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans. She got into bed and propped herself up with some extra pillows. Ryan scooted up until her head rested on her lover’s chest, burrowing her head against Jamie’s breast until she was comfortably denned.

"I feel so close to you, Ryan," Jamie whispered into her ear. "This just feels so intimate."

"I feel that way, too. I never would have guessed that being this sick would make me feel closer to you, but it does. Why do you think that is?"

"Maybe because you’re so weak and vulnerable. It’s hard to say, though. Maybe our roles are a little different when one of us is ill."

"Maybe that’s it. I guess I always feel most intimate when I’m really vulnerable. And I’ve rarely been this vulnerable physically," she admitted. "It just changes how I feel about myself."

"Tell me about that," Jamie encouraged.

Ryan sighed deeply as she furrowed her brow. "I’ve had more injuries than I can count, but they always made sense to me. Ya know what I mean?"

Jamie nodding, thinking she understood.

"But this…this isn’t from a risk I took, or some activity I participated in. This just hit me out of the blue, and it’s really made me feel vulnerable. I mean, if I can catch this virus, what’s to stop me from catching something else, ya know?"

"Well, I guess that’s possible, but you can also look at this as your number just being up. Everybody gets sick once in a while, Babe. This takes care of you for a very long time."

"I hope so, Jamie," she said softly "I think I have an image of myself that’s centered around my physical self. I am what I do. Being active and being outside make me feel connected both to the earth and to other people. Being cooped up in the house, unable to even go outside, just makes me feel odd and unsettled."

"That makes sense, " she said as she continued to stroke her back softly. "I guess I also think of you mostly as a vibrant, active, energetic soul. It’s hard to see you be so weak and frail."

"I know I’d hate to see you this sick," Ryan admitted. "You don’t think you’ll catch it do you?"

"I don’t think so, Baby. There’s a two-day incubation period, so I probably would have gotten sick by Monday or Tuesday."

"Every time I’m lucid I say a prayer for you," she admitted shyly.

"And I’ve been praying for you," Jamie said as she tweaked her nose. "Let’s hope all of our prayers are answered."

Ryan wrapped her arms around her lover a little more tightly and within minutes was sound asleep. Jamie continued to stroke her face and back, remaining just where she was for another hour. It was uncomfortable to be pinned by Ryan’s weight, but she wouldn’t have traded places with anyone. She felt very warm and loving toward her partner and was terribly pleased that they had been able to have a little talk. As much as she missed their physical connection, it was the emotional connection that she needed to get through the day. Having those few minutes of intimate connection made her feel outrageously good and brightened her spirits enough to hope that the next day would bring better news.

As the limo pulled away from the stately, circular drive, Catherine spent a moment gazing at the house she had once loved, finding that the building no longer inspired warm feelings of home and family. With a sigh, she approached the front door, passing her neatly stacked bags in the entry.
Well, this should be fun
, she mused, noticing Jim’s car in the drive.

She had been gone nearly two and a half weeks, and she had not spoken to her husband in that entire time. She knew from Jamie that Jim knew that she had been the one to tell their daughter of his infidelities, and she knew that fact would make him very angry indeed, irrational as that reaction was.

No more than ten feet into the house, Jim descended on her, sneering evilly as he commented, "Look who’s back! Benedict Arnold has come home to gloat."

Sharing a saccharine laced smile with him, Catherine said, "One would certainly have to have a certain view of the world to feel like the wronged party in your situation. You break every vow that you ever made to me, and
I’m
supposed to apologize to
you
?"

"Yes, that’s right…you’re supposed to apologize to me! You couldn’t stand to have Jamie be close to me! You had to try and destroy what we shared!"

Blinking slowly, Catherine gave him a puzzled gaze. "I’m making this suggestion sincerely, Jim. I think you should have some tests run to determine if you have a brain tumor or some other medical condition that would cause this irrational thinking."

"I’m perfectly lucid!" he shouted, seeming everything but.

"Look, Jim," Catherine said. "If I had treated you like you deserved, Jamie and I would have spent the last 15 years in Italy. Now
that
would have been my attempt to destroy the closeness you and she once had."