Daisy.

“Bless you, baby,” he laughed. I laughed too, holding the phone up to my ear. “So I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I sneezed again as I hung up, falling back into the seat with a huff. Marina looked at me when I pulled out a balled up paper tissue and dabbed at my red nose, making a face. We were on our way home from shopping for her anniversary. She wanted to buy something special for Sunny. I sniffled, looking over at her as I grabbed my drink from the cup holder, slurping loudly.

“Yes?”

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” I nodded, drumming my hands along the steering wheel as I cruised down my street. We got out of the car and she peered at me as I swayed a little, laughing a little. “I think you’re getting sick, Daisy.”

“Sick? No. I don’t get sick.” I laughed, shaking my head at her as we walked up to my house.

I plopped down on the couch, kicking off my shoes. She set her bags down and asked me where my wrapping paper was. I got back up and wandered into the hall closet, reaching past old moving boxes and bags to get them. I found some tape and scissors too and walked back to the living room, only to find her flipping through the pictures of Valentina, which were still on the table. I felt myself blanch as I set the materials on the floor. She glanced over at me and held up the album.

“Who’s this?”

“Nobody,” I said quickly, taking it from her and shutting it. “So, um, let’s get these wrapped, huh?” She frowned a little at me but said nothing about it, moving towards her gifts. She bought him a watch and a sweater and some lingerie—I raised an eyebrow and she wriggled hers, waving the pieces around. I was wrapping the box we put the sweater in when I started coughing, chest aching after the fit. Marina looked at me and made a tiny face, leaning over as she put her hand on my forehead.

“I think you really are sick, Daisy.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Maybe you have the flu.”

I grinned, laughing. I didn’t get the flu. I didn’t get sick. In fact, I prided myself on going my whole life without getting the chickenpox, or the mumps, or the measles, or any other horrible childhood ailments (but that was probably because my parents didn’t let me or Valentina go outside very often).

“I think I’m fine. Maybe it’s just a bug or something,” I shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know, Daisy… ” she trailed off, shaking her head.

I scoffed and blew her off, thinking I was okay. We were going out with Dash and Sunny that night. I was definitely looking forward to it. Marina and Sunny were always a trip and there was never a dull moment when they were around. After we finished wrapping her presents, we made something to eat and hung out.

Much like I expected, my night out with the group was a blast. Marina and Sunny did a bunch of shots and got plastered, Dash and I drank and danced and kissed and it was just lovely. I did feel a little tired, but with everything that had been going on in the last couple of days, it wasn’t a surprise. I had fun though, and after we finished at the club, we went to the gallery. After that, we went and got drinks (again) and something to eat at Rigby’s—apparently it was Dash’s favorite hideout. I took a cab home, woozy and cold and hot all at the same time. I thought it was just the drinks I’d had and brushed it off, laughing a little as I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

The next morning I woke up to ruddy cheeks and a stuffy nose, trailed by a hacking cough and body aches. The clock was solemn next to me, 12:19 PM in stark black and white numbers. My clothes from last night were rumpled and wrinkled, making a pile on my floor as I took them off and slinked into the shower. I thought that maybe it’d help me feel better but I still felt hot and cold, shivering as I wrapped a towel around myself, wiping the steam off the glass. Pasty skin and rimmed eyes greeted me, mouth turned down in a frown.

Was Marina right after all? I brushed my teeth languidly, throat dry and sore as I spit into the sink. I padded back into my room, still shivering as I pulled on my clothes, sitting on the edge of my bed as I tried to breathe, chest heavy and tight. I curled up under the covers, trying to stay warm.

My phone rang and I sighed, searching for it in the tangle of blankets. My throat hurt and I didn’t really feel like talking very much, but I picked up anyway, pulling the covers over my head.

“Hello?” I coughed, sniffling. I reached out and shivered as I felt around for the tissue box next to my bed, grabbing a couple of them to blow my nose.

“Hi,” Dash greeted, voice friendly and soft and warm. I smiled a little, digging my face into my pillow. It was his day off, I remembered with a groan. We were supposed to hang out that afternoon. “I can’t decide between pizza and Thai.” I laughed, cough muted by the blanket. “I mean, I found this flyer on my windshield, and… apparently there’s a new Thai place around your place… which is cool, ’cause I really like Thai and you and the both of you together would be really awesome.” I rolled my eyes. He just liked food in general. And I was slowly starting to give up on him and his infatuation—because that’s what it was, obviously, because there was no way he genuinely liked me—or maybe he did? I shook my head. “But I didn’t know if you wanted Thai or pizza and I didn’t want to get the wrong thing because—” I started coughing violently, trying to stifle them, only to make them worse. I felt like I was going to die at the end of the fit, trying to catch my breath. “Daisy?”

“Yeah?” I managed weakly, fingers curling into my blankets.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah—” I sneezed, chest squeezing for a couple of seconds before it let go, nose stuffed up again. I sighed, throat throbbing. “And I like pizza and—and—” I sneezed into the tissue, quickly growing impatient with this sudden bout of sickness. “—Thai food… and you too,” I finished quietly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, cool, ’cause I’m already next in line at the Thai place and I didn’t want to drive to Mezzo’s for pizza anyway. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, baby.”

I blushed, hanging up the phone. I rolled out of bed slowly, trying to make myself presentable before he got there. I made it to the closet after five minutes of shuffling and stopping every couple of seconds because my head was spinning and I didn’t want to start throwing up, which was weird, because I hadn’t even had anything to eat. I reached the closet door and propped myself against it, squinting at my clothes. I pulled some leggings from the hanger and slid out of my shorts, kicking them into a corner of the closet. I was pulling them up my legs and fixing my tank top with a soft sigh when I heard him knocking the door.

I pulled on some socks and practically slid to the door, too tired and achy to care about my hair or face. I undid the locks on the door one by one before letting him in. He held up a big brown bag of food that made my belly rumble with hunger and in the same second, sick. He kissed me quickly and frowned, looking at me.

“You’re warm.” He set down the bag of food, pressing his hand to my forehead and cheeks, much like Marina had the day before.

“I’m actually kind of cold,” I mumbled, coughing into a crumpled tissue. "I think the air conditioner's acting up again." He pulled off his sweater, disappearing underneath the folds of burgundy red and canary yellow, shaking his head as he finally pulled it off. I almost drooled but refrained, pulling it on with a small smile. “Thank you.” He smiled faintly, pressing his hands to my face again.

“You’re burning up, Daisy. Are you getting sick?”

“Did Marina put you up to this?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him as I swatted his hands away, moving past him and towards the food, swaying a little as I steadied myself against the small table. “I bet she did.” He wrapped his arms around me, laughing. “I don’t get sick,” I said sullenly, pulling the bag towards me. I dug around and picked up a box, reaching down into the bottom of the bag for tissues and forks or chopsticks or whatever he got.

“Really? ’Cause you seem pretty sick to me.” I shook my head, the sneeze forcing me back into his chest. “See? Did you go to the doctor?”

“I’m not sick.”

“Did the doctor say that?”

“I didn’t go because I’m not—” I coughed, unable to contain myself as I hacked away into the tissue, groaning and slumping against him. “—sick,” I said, feeling small.

“We should go to the doctor.”

“But—”

“You’re sick and you’re just going to get sicker if you don’t go to the hospital and see a doctor,” he said firmly. I could already see the frown on his face without having to look at him, knowing there wasn’t really any fighting him on this because he wouldn’t let it go and would probably drag me out kicking and screaming if he had to. “We’re going.”

“I don’t like the hospital,” I sulked on the way to the car, digging my hands into the pocket in front of the sweater, pouting sullenly.

“You sound like a five year old.”

“You sound like a five year old,” I countered lamely, shutting the door behind me as I pulled on my seat belt. He pulled out into the street, laughing as he messed with the radio.

“Why don’t you like hospitals?”

I didn’t like the smell of disinfectant and the stark white halls and the nurses with their condescendingly sweet looks and doctors who were bored and irritated for no good reason and who didn’t know what they were doing half the time. I just didn’t like it. If I had to get medicine for something, like my allergies for example, I’d take a walk down to the drug store and buy some over the counter pills and call it a day. And for my birth control—not like I needed it, but I just liked being on it just in case—I went to the Planned Parenthood downtown.

I didn’t see doctors often and I liked to keep it that way.

“Because,” I answered resolutely, playing with the stereo, in search of something good.

“Because…?”

“I don’t like going.”

“I figured,” he said dryly. “It’s not like they’re going to, like, kill you or something, Daisy. They’re just going to give you some medicine and send you home.”

“I’ve been to a doctor’s office before, stupid.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” I stayed silent and he smiled, patting my hand. “I’ll even go in with you.”

“Cute.”

Since it wasn’t really an emergency, I convinced him to take me to a clinic instead. There was no reason to make it into something bigger than what it really was, was there? The clinic had avocado green walls and peeling posters about vaccinations and STDs and hotlines you could call in case you wanted to give your baby up for adoption or something. There was a lone vending machine in the corner, humming lowly beneath the sounds of couples arguing and suburban soccer moms chiding their children in harsh whispers not about drawing on other peoples’ walls.

I hated it and for a second wished that I had just let him take me to the hospital. I shot him a look, miserable. He just smiled and kissed my forehead, paging through the newspaper with one hand while squeezing mine with the other.

I think I sat there for about forty minutes—the clock on the wall was stuck permanently at six fifteen and thirty eight seconds, so I just eyeballed it—before they called me, feeling even worse. I didn’t think that was possible, but apparently it was. I felt dizzy and lightheaded and hungry and nauseated and exhausted all at the same time, and all I wanted was to go home and turn off all the lights and sleep until I woke up and felt better, but Dash obviously wasn’t having it.

Of course.

I followed the nurse into the tiny white room, sitting on the bed. I winced at the crinkling the paper covering the bed made, making a face at Dash as he sat in the chair across from me. She took my temperature—100° F—and blood pressure—121/56—and height—68 lovely inches—and weight—138 pounds of pure awkward. She padded out of the room in her squeaky white shoes, saying something about how the doctor would be in to see me in a minute.

I crossed my arms across my chest, leaning against the wall to close my eyes, but I didn’t even have them shut all the way before the doctor, a stout little man who wore a white shirt and a red bow tie and black suspenders underneath a lab coat, poked his head in the door. The wisps of white hairs were combed over his head neatly, a crooked grin on his face as he pushed his thick glasses up his nose.

“Can I come in?”

He sat on the little stool next to the counter, looking at the chart in front of him before looking at me.

“I’m Dr. Gray. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady.”

“You can just call me Daisy,” I said with a small smile.

“I’m just going to check you out, that okay?” I nodded and he pulled a stethoscope from his pocket, waddling over to me. He pressed the cold metal to my chest, squinting in concentration. He reached around and did the same thing. It was all I could do to not burst out laughing. I was ticklish and his face was priceless. “Just breathe.”

After a few moments, he pulled his stethoscope out, stuffing it back in his pocket. He turned around and I coughed, closing my eyes again. He shifted and looked at me with a frown, furrowing his eyebrows.

“That’s a bad cough, Daisy.” He pulled out a tongue depressor from a glass jar, looking at me. “Open.” I opened my mouth, shooting Dash a look again. “Uh-huh.” He threw it away, rubbing his hands together. He pressed stubby little fingers to my neck and underneath my ears, humming. “Just as I suspected. And you have a fever and chills. Are you tired?”

“I’m exhausted,” I said, voice raspy as I leaned against the wall.

“Mmhm.” He sat down on his stool, pulling a white prescription pad from the drawer. He pulled a pen from his pocket, clicking it open.

“And I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You’ve got the flu. It's been going around lately. Don't worry.” He smiled a little. “It’s easily treated with lots of rest and fluids. I’m going to give you something for the fever, because it’s a little higher than I’d like. If it doesn’t go down by tomorrow, you might want to go to the emergency room, okay?” I nodded and he smiled. “What pharmacy do you use?”

“Walgreens’.”

“I’ll have one of the nurses send the prescription there, then.” He clicked his pen and smiled at the both of us, taking the file under his arm as he waddled to the door. “I hope you feel better soon. Have a nice day, you two.” He walked out and shut the door.

I wanted to say something to Dash, but didn’t even feel up to it. I held out my hand instead and we walked out together, leaving Dr. Grey and his nurses and obnoxious patients behind. The breeze was cold and I would have stood for a few seconds just to feel it, but since I didn’t feel like collapsing in the parking lot, I went with him. I fought to keep my eyes open on the way home, but I must have fallen asleep because when he squeezed my hand I sat up, startled, dizzy at the sudden movement.

“Let’s go.” I mumbled okay and something about sleep and pajamas, rubbing at my dry eyes as I stumble up the stairs with him. I dug my keys out of my pocket and opened the door after a couple of failed attempts to get the key in the hole. I took a deep breath, leaning against him. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured and I shook my head in feeble protest, lips turning down into a frown. I sunk into my bed with a heavy yawn, slipping out of my shoes.

“I’m not sleepy,” I mumbled, blinking at him as he pulled the covers over me.

“You never are.”

“And I’m not sick, either.”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Daisy Mosey never gets sick.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, rubbing my eyes. He turned on the fan, setting it on low. I watched it turn in a semi-circle for a second. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” he said. “You’re always fine. Nothing’s ever wrong.”

“And that doctor’s a… a… ” I yawned again, covering my mouth. “He’s stupid. Like you.”

“Like me.” He put a hand on my forehead, pushing my hair out of my eyes.

“I’m not sick.”

“Hm.” I turned and looked at him, trying to keep my eyes open. “My strong girl,” he said quietly, laughing a little as he kissed me. I pulled away and closed my eyes, sniffling a little. “Just get some rest, okay?” I couldn’t even protest, falling asleep as he shut the lights. I reached out for his hand. “I’ll be back.”

He shut the door quietly and I settled into the blankets, pulling them over my head, sinking into the land of sleep, chased by thoughts of Valentina screaming bloody murder and comforted by Dash’s arms and whispered confessions and the melody in his voice when he called me baby or Peachy or his girl.

I woke up in a sweaty panic, sweater clinging to my damp skin and blankets forming a cage around my legs as I kicked them away, struggling to breathe through a stuffy nose and heavy chest.

She was crying and yelling and I couldn’t do anything but run away and she was bleeding and he wouldn’t stop, he just wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t stop him because I was a scared little girl without so much as a semblance of a backbone. It was my fault, my fault, I ruined her, I left her and she ruined herself and if I hadn’t left she wouldn’t have so wasn’t it my fault, really?

I pushed the blankets off, at my wits end with them. The sudden movements made my head spin as I sat up, trying to move slowly. I almost got out of bed, but the cold air and spinning head kept me underneath the blankets. I felt my hands rise and press on my face, fingers pressing into my cheeks, shivering. I was still warm, and with a tiny scowl, I took a deep breath, turning towards the fan in search of some fresh air. My heart raced as I leaned against the headboard. I felt hungry and tired and sleepy and hot and cold and nervous, and with a grim frown I decided that this being sick thing was definitely not for me.

I heard a crash in the kitchen and went completely still, wide eyed until I remembered that Dash said that he would come back at some point, and sighed, relaxing a little but not enough. I closed my eyes but they snapped open as my stomach turned. I shifted slowly, rubbing my eyes. A couple of clashes and clatters and mumbled curses later, I saw him nudging the door open with his foot. He held a tray and smiled sheepishly in the light of the doorway.

“How are you feeling?” I shrugged in response, watching as he made his way over to me. “Are you hungry? I made some soup.” I raised an eyebrow and he sighed, setting the tray on my lap. I picked up a spoon and stirred it, belly rumbling as I glanced at him.

“Let’s watch TV,” I said, tired of being fussed over. I started to eat slowly as I watched TV, trying to ignore the burning in my throat as the soup slipped down, slurping the noodles with a small smile. “Did you go to the pharmacy?” He nodded and pointed at the orange bottle of what looked like red cough syrup. I frowned at it and went back to my soup.

“So… um… I wasn’t really trying to snoop or anything, but I just, um, well, happened to notice the pictures in the living room and, um, I—”

“We’re not talking about it,” I said simply, hoping he would just drop it and move onto something else. But he was nothing if not persistent, and he pressed forward—like he usually did, because he was just so insatiably curious and there was nothing I could say or do without flaming the fire of his desire to know every little thing about me.

“Is she your sister?” I stayed silent, eating the soup sullenly. I didn’t want to talk about her because I didn’t want to start crying, which would only prompt him to fuss even more over me and I wasn’t really having that, not now. “She looks like you.”

“Looked,” I amended, rubbing at my nose. “She looked like me.”

When we were younger, we used to buy matching outfits to convince people we were twins. Eventually she grew—tan and tall and filled out and dark haired with our mother’s pretty honey eyes—and I did too—pale and wiry and awkward with mousy dark hair that looked sometimes brown and dull brown eyes—and it was hard to keep the ruse up.

“Did she pass away or something? I’m sorry, Daisy, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “She’s not dead,” I murmured, hiding behind my hair as I set the bowl on the nightstand next to me, putting a plate on top of it. “I’m not really hungry anymore.” I picked up the bottle of syrup and a spoon, shaking the bottle before pouring some for myself, making a face and pinching my nose as I struggled to swallow it all at once. I drank some water and sighed, slumping against his arm.

“Are you two close?”

“We were.” I tried to focus on the show on the screen in front of us instead of his questions. I was barely keeping it together the way it was, and if he kept on asking me I’d fall apart completely and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to piece myself together again.

“What happened?”

“Things.” I yawned loudly, curling up when he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Daisy—”

“Let’s just cuddle and go to sleep, okay?” I looked at him pleadingly, hoping that just this once we could let this go, for my sake. And much to my surprise, he kissed my forehead quietly and brushed my hair behind my ears, resting his head on top of mine.