Instead of running around the house like a headless chicken to get ready for work, I set up camp in the living room, taking care of the infuriating administrative side of owning a business—a task I tend to avoid at all cost. I’m willing to bite the bullet today in case Thalia needs me to pick her up at any point during the day.
And what a blessing that I stayed.
Less than two hours later, the door to the condo flings open, startling Ares, who’s napping on the doormat.
“Hey, man!” Jared yells, his arm around Thalia.
She’s almost ghost-like, swaying on her feet and bracing against the wall when Jared lets go of her, courtesy of my glaring at his hand snaked around her waist.
“What happened?” I cross the room, looking over her stained uniform, and scraped, bloody knee.
“She passed out on the course,” Jared explains, hands in pockets. “I think she’s got the flu. She’s feverish.”
“I shouldn’t have gone in today,” she utters, each word a strained murmur. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Yeah, no shit.” I press my hand to her head, pulse throbbing in my neck. She’s too hot. Hotter than before. She’ll end up in the ER if we don’t lower the fever. “When did you take Tylenol last?”
“Four in the morning.”
“You’re so fucking irresponsible, Thalia.” I take her shoes off, scooping her into my arms. “You should’ve taken another dose at eight.” I glance over my shoulder at Jared. “Thanks for bringing her over. Don’t expect her to cover any shifts tomorrow or Thursday.”
He nods, squeezing Thalia’s arm. “Don’t come back until you’re better, alright? Cassidy can cover your shifts over the weekend if need be.”
“I’m really sorry,” Thalia mutters, eyes heavy as if she’s about ready to fall asleep.
He waves her off without comment and turns on his heel, leaving us alone.
“You can’t be trusted with your own health.” I sit her on the couch, aiming the thermometer at her head. My hands turn cold when the results flash on the screen. “One-oh-three point six. Shit, either we get it down in the next fifteen minutes, or I’m taking you to the hospital.” I grab my phone, dial Mom’s number, and fetch another bottle of Tylenol.
“Good morning, my long-lost son,” Mom chirps, half elated, half bitter. “What could’ve possibly happened for you to remember my number?”
“Hey, Mom, sorry I’ve not been over lately. I’m working all the time.”
“Ah, work... of course. The go-to excuse of all my sons.”
There’s no denying I’ve neglected my mother for a few months, focused on perfecting the game. Since Thalia moved in, I haven’t even called to check in with her. Shame on me. Seriously. It’s disgraceful. My mom is a saint and deserves better than this. I make a mental note to visit her and Dad as soon as Thalia’s better. Which reminds me...
“How do I bring a very high fever down fast? Very high as in one-oh-three point six. Tylenol will take half an hour, and that’s too long.”
“You’re unwell?” she gasps, slipping back into full-blown Mom mode. “Oh, baby, I’ll be there soon, okay? Just take Tylenol and—”
“Mom, I’m fine. My...” Yeah, my what?Roommatedoesn’t do my relationship with Thalia justice, and every day I realizefriendisn’t a suitable description, either, but it’s the only one I have. “My friend’s not well. Her fever is climbing too fast. What can I do?”
Thalia’s wrapped in a blanket, eyes closed, cheek resting on the armrest of the couch when I come back with a glass of water and two pills.
“A friend?” Mom coos in a sing-song voice, and I can imagine how she’s wagging her eyebrows, pulling knowing faces.
“Not now, okay? We’ll talk when I come over this weekend. Just tell me what to do.”
“Alright, alright. Get her in a lukewarm bath for a few minutes. Notcold, Theo. Lukewarm. It should help. If not, she might need to see a doctor.”
“Thank you. I’ll come by on Sunday, I promise.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” she says, then cuts the call.
I bet my ass she’s dialing Shawn, Logan, or Nico’s number to ask a thousand and one questions about myfriend.
Thalia shivers under the blanket, eyes heavy, lips parched. Her ashen skin is the exact same shade as my off-white couch. Informing her that she has to soak in a cool bath while she trembles like it’s arctic winter probably won’t work out in my favor. I leave her for a moment to prepare the bath.