Tonight, Not Again

Zoey
When Rob didn’t pick up his cell for the third time in six hours I began to get worried. We had some sort of date planned for the evening and I hadn’t heard from him at all since he’d been home. I pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, balancing my cell phone between my ear and my shoulder. I was supposed to meet him.
I glanced around, spotting his black car instantly. There were two scenarios playing out in my mind. The first was that he’d forgotten, and maybe had his other lady friend over. The second was that it was my birthday surprise. As much as I highly doubted Rob would throw a surprise party for me, I kept my fingers crossed. I hadn’t had enough time to mentally prepare myself for another image of infidelity.

The doorway was pretty inconspicuous—no sign of balloons, streamers or confetti. But that didn’t totally rule out a party, did it?
My first knock fell on deaf ears. I listened closely for any sign of movement on the other side, but heard nothing. I knocked again, louder and longer.
“Rob?” The volume of my voice fluctuated as I knocked again. The neighbors must have thought I was stalking him. “Rob!”
Inside I heard a muffled voice. Seconds later, a giant wrapped in an afghan answered the door.
“Hello?” The blanket slipped from over his head and Rob’s face appeared. He looked terrible. “Oh, Jesus, Zoey. I totally forgot.”
“Are you alright?” Rob usually pale face was at least five shades lighter, with more a green tint to it.
“No.” His voice trailed off as he got a strange look on his face. He held up a finger and disappeared.
“Shit.” My own insides rolled as I listened to him vomit in the bathroom.
As I stepped inside, I heard the faucet running. Rob walked out, scratching his head. His makeshift cloak had gotten lost somewhere in the mess.
I looked around his apartment, grimacing. It was an absolute disaster, even compared to how it usually looked. Judging from the Wildman beard he was sporting, it was safe to say he’d lost his razor underneath the blankets and tissues and garbage. There was a funny odor in the air as well, the nature of which I assumed were part stomach acids.
“I should have called…”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I just assumed it was still on…which, obviously, is why I’m here…”
“I’m so sorry, Zo.” He wobbled over to the couch and collapsed. “I’ll make it up to you—”
“Rob, it’s fine.” I walked away from the door and over to the couch. I pressed my palm to forehead. “Jesus, you’re hot!”
“Why thank you.” Even extreme nausea couldn’t shut him up. I ignored his remark, regretting my choice of words the instant they left my mouth.
“Have you taken your temperature?” He was practically writhing in sweat. I wiped my hand on my pants.
“With what?”
“You don’t have a thermometer?”
“And I suppose you do?” Rob shot me an incredulous look before covering his mouth. When nothing happened, he settled back into the cushions.
“Good god. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t,” he hiccupped. “I don’t really know. I think it happened somewhere between London and Tokyo.”
Suddenly, he sprang up from the couch. I shook my head and started sorting through the various bottles of medicine for body aches and nausea. The man was living in a pharmacy.
“Zoey…” He sounded like a dying cow. “You should go. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Are you going to be alright?” I ventured toward the bathroom, staying in the hallway.
“No…”
I peeked around the corner after I heard a thud. Rob had propped himself up on the countertop and rested his head against on his forearms.
“I think I’m going to die,” he groaned. “I really think this is it.”
I laughed, biting back the urge to smack his shoulder—I didn’t want to jar anything.
“You’re not dying. Get in the shower, relax. I’ll go to the drugstore.”
Before he could even protest, I was out the door.
And I kept wrapping myself more tightly around his finger.

Rob
The hot water felt absolutely wonderful. It had been at least three days since I’d made it into the shower. Zoey was a lifesaver, whether she knew it or not. She also made me incredibly happy, whether she knew it or not.
There was a fresh t-shirt and some boxers sitting on the bathroom counter when I finished. I hadn’t even seen her slip in. If I hadn’t been hacking up my internal organs early, I probably would have asked her to join me.
“Rob?” Zoey knocked as I was toweling off. I had to admit I kind of liked that we had reached the point where nakedness outside of sex wasn’t considered taboo. “How are you?”
“Honestly, despite how great that felt, I still feel like shit.”
She frowned. “Alright, well I made you some soup…maybe you can just drink the broth?”
“Zoey, thank you.” I wanted to plant one on her. “But you really don’t have to do this.”
“I feel bad,” she scoffed. “You’re here all alone and you’re sick. Oh!” All of the sudden a thermometer appeared in her hands.
“Where do I have to stick that?” Zoey rolled her eyes as she pressed some buttons on the thermometer.
“Let me know when it beeps.”
I stuck the thermometer underneath my tongue and watched her go.

“It’s a little high,” Zoey handed me a bowl of soup as I nestled into the couch. “Here’s some Advil, it might help you get rid of the fever.”
She sat down across from me in the chair, which I noticed had been ridden of its heap of dirty laundry. In fact, everything had been cleaned up. The blinds on the windows were even opened.
I watched her trying not to slurp her soup. She’d donned one of my t-shirts and pulled her mane of dark hair on top of her head.
There was no way I could make any of what she’d done for me up to her.