Mile High City

He sneezed into another tissue, the box now empty. One doesn’t really realize what it’s like to get sick alone. It’s a horrible feeling. No one to check on your progress and ensure you’ve taken your next dose of medicine. No one to cook a meal in your poor state.

Just you.

He was too proud to reach out to any of the Better Halves. He knew they’d be more than willing to help out. He felt miserable and couldn’t help but feel worse at the timing.

“What am I going to do?”

He thought about calling someone on the medical staff to check on him; just to make sure it was not the flu or something else that would require prescription medication to fight off.
His phone shook on the nightstand beside his bed, an incoming text.

“What are you up to :o)?”

It was the only time Emily had reached out to him first. He liked that, but he didn’t know if he wanted to let her know he was sick. Still proud.

“Just resting up!” he replied vaguely. He felt a pang of guilt as he sent the short message.
He didn’t want her to think her wasn’t interested in talking.

“I call” he said a few seconds later.

“Hello!” he heard the familiar voice on the other line. He smiled to himself despite feeling awful.

“Hiiiii Emily!” he replied, doing his best not to cough. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been great! You must be exhausted; you’ve been so busy. I don’t mean to keep you long! What’s new?” she replied sweetly.

He coughed, moving his face away from the phone, and cleared his throat. “Not much is new. Busy. A lot of conditioning!” he replied. “Your classes okay?”

“Varly, are you sick?”

“Just a little-“ he responded, cut off by a coughing fit.

“What’s your temperature?”

“102…” he said, sounding guilty. “I’m taking medicine!” he added quickly. She remained quiet on the other line.

“Hmm…” she mumbled. He could hear her shuffling about. “Where do you live?”
He knew she would come see him.

“Do not worry Emily!” he pleaded. “I will be okay. It’s not bad. Really.”

“Okaaaay.” She replied, unconvinced. “I won’t keep you any longer. I bet your throat is sore.”

“Bye Emily thanks for call!”

“Mhm. Bye Semyon.”
He liked the way she said his name. She said it correctly, but it was still different than anyone from back home did.

He laid in bed, miserable, for the next couple of minutes. He buried his head into his pillow, hoping to drift to sleep. A fit of coughing prevented him from a moment of relief. He rolled out of bed to get another box of tissues. There were none to be found. He grabbed a roll of toilet from the bathroom and collapsed back into his bed.

“2344 Platte Road” he messaged Emily.

It didn’t take her long to arrive. He heard a knock at his door and opened it to see a very beautiful girl wearing a surgical mask. He laughed out loud.

“Shhhh.” She said, patting his chest. “Back to bed.” She commanded, taking him by the shoulders and gently pushing him back into the apartment. He let her guide him to his room and plopped down, into the covers.

“Be right back. Don’t move.” She tapped his nose and walked out of the room. She returned a short while later with a glass of water. She pulled a pill box from the basket she’d brought.

“What kind of medicine have you taken?”

“No medicine…” he looked down.

She raised her eyebrows and handed him a few pills, pouring some syrup onto a little spoon. He did as he was told.

“Does your head hurt?” she asked, pressing the back of her palm to his forehead lightly. He nodded, smiling at the demanding woman wearing the funny blue mask. She pulled an ice pack from her basket and rested it on his forehead.

“I don’t need this!” he chuckled, shaking his head to knock the ice pack off. “Too cold.”

She pursed her lips, but her attention was quickly distracted by a whistling sound from the kitchen.

“The tea!” she grinned, her eyes growing wide expecting him to share her excitement. She returned with a mug in hand.

“What is it?” he asked, eyeing the piping hot beverage curiously.

“Hot Toddy!” she chirped.

He burst out laughing. “What in the world is Hot Toddies?”

“This is ginger tea, lemon, honey, and rum.” She explained. “Drink.” She directed, taking a seat at the side of the bed and brushing the hair from his face gently.
He smiled at her and sipped the beverage. It was actually very good. Soothing.

“Have you had dinner?” she asked. He shook his head. She rose from the bed and hurried into the kitchen, grabbing a few things from her basket first.

He turned on the television, finally feeling well enough to sit up.

She returned a few minutes later with a bowl of soup.

“Thank you!” he grinned, accepting the soup gratefully.

“Try to finish.” She smiled encouragingly. She ran her fingers through his hair playfully and left to the kitchen again. She came back to take his empty soup bowl, which he didn’t waste.

She came back to the room again, finally this time. He patted the spot next to him on the bed, suggesting she come sit by him. She moved onto the bed and he reached his arm around her shoulder to pull her by his side.

He nuzzled his face into her shoulder. “You’re my special girl.” He mumbled.

She lifted the surgical mask and kissed the tip of his nose and moved his pillow back to his bed flatly so he could lie down.

She held up the ice pack again and grinned really wide. She gave a thumbs-up as if to say “ready-to-try-this-again?”

He chuckled to himself and shook his head. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second.

She tucked him in and left a bottle of water beside his bed with the next few dosages of medicine and a brand new box of tissues.

“Goodnight Emily.” He mumbled, into his pillow this time.

“Goodnight Semyon.”

She let herself out, but not before noticing the lone cowboy hat on his dresser.