“You’re not going to like this,” I say, scooping her off the couch, bridal style. “You need to get in the bath.”
“I like baths,” she murmurs, too weak to properly wrap her limp arms around my neck and hold on.
“You won’t like this one, but you have to get in there. I sit her on the edge of the tub and help her out of the skimpy polo shirt and skirt. I leave her panties and bra untouched, or else I might end up with a fucking aneurysm.
God, she’s perfect. Olive skin, round hips, and big boobs, which are pushed out more because she’s hugging herself to stay warm. “Hop in. Just for a few minutes.”
She holds my hand to steady herself when her right foot brakes the water. A distressed whimper leaves her lips. “No, I can’t. It’s too cold. Tylenol will work. I’m fine, see?” She rubs her arm, flattening the goosebumps, but she can’t hide the unnaturally pale face, glassy eyes, and how scorching hot she feels to the touch. “Please, I don’t want to get in there.”
“You have to. I aim the thermometer at her head and show her the screen. “Your fever’s climbing too fast, Thalia. Hop in.”
She’s up to one-oh-three point eight, and if I can’t get it down, at least a little, in the next ten minutes, I’m taking her to the hospital before she turns into a soft-boiled egg.
Instead of a step forward, Thalia takes a step back. The water is about ten degrees cooler than her body which can’t be pleasant, but either she gets in the tub now, or she’ll end up covered in cooling blankets at the hospital.
I’m not sure which is worse.
I tear my t-shirt off and lose my sweatpants, ignoring Thalia’s opened mouth gaze sliding down my body and inspecting every muscle. Giving her no time to protest again, I cup her ass, lift her into my arms, and step in the water.
She hisses and shudders, clawing at my shoulders when I sit, gritting my teeth. My body temperature is much cooler than Thalia’s, but the lukewarm bath raises the hairs on my neck.
“Turn around,” I say, helping her maneuver in the confined space until she sits between my legs, her back to my chest, teeth clattering. “Breathe,omorfiá. Think about something else.”
She tries, but instead of distracting herself, she’s counting down the seconds left until the end of this misery. A few minutes go by before I recheck her temperature, pushing a sigh of relief past my teeth. It’s slowly coming down.
“T-t-talk to m-me,” she stutters, wrapping my arms around her as if that’ll keep her warm. “Was I ki-ki-kicking about at night-t-t?”
I submerge a sponge between her legs and wring it over her neck and shoulders. “You didn’t move, but you snore, you know?”
“No. No, no, n-no,no. I do-don’t. I—” She inhales, shaking like a baby deer when I wring more water down her cleavage. “I’m s-s-so cold.”
My arms wrap tighter around her frame in an automatic reflex as if I’d done it countless times before. “You’re doing great. Five more minutes. Try to relax, okay? The more you tense, the worse it is. Once we’re out of here, we can binge-watch“Ozark”.”
She gasps, digging her nails into my forearms. “D-did you f-f...” she sucks in a harsh breath, then blurts the rest of the sentence fast, on an exhale. “...finish the episode without me? What happened?”
“I’m not telling you. We’ll rewatch it. I need to see your face when—” I grin, letting the end of the sentence hang unspoken. “Never mind. You’ll see.”
When her fever drops to a more manageable one-oh-two, I help Thalia out of the bath and wrap her in a thick, yellow towel. She’s a touch less pale now, and I let her get dressed without my help.
“Have you eaten today?” I ask when she curls into a ball on the couch, dressed in a gray hoodie and matching sweatpants.
“I don’t think I’ll stomach food,” she pulls herself up, resting on one elbow, “but I can make you a wrap or pasta if—”
“I’m seriously considering duct-taping you to that couch. You’re not moving your pretty ass all day, understood? I’ll order takeout later unless you’re hungry now.”
“No, I’m okay.” She scoots closer, kissing my cheek. “Thank you.”
Now that she’s within my reach, I pull her in like I did last night, flip us over so we’re both laying comfortably, and press play, my hand once again under the blanket, stroking the side of her body in a lulling, repetitive motion. Half of the episode goes by before her eyes grow heavy.
She tilts her head up slightly, her lips brushing against my jaw. “I’m sleepy.”
“Sleep,omorfiá,” I whisper, pressing a kiss in her hair, my hold on her tightening before she can even think about getting out of here and heading to bed.
With a ghost-like, tired smile, she cuddles her face under my chin, one hand across my chest, fisting the t-shirt, one leg bent at the knee and resting over my thighs.
I change the show, so she won’t miss any action, brushing my fingers up and down her arm. Despite the fluffy blanket she pulled up to her chin, she shivers every now and then, clinging to me like second skin. She’s out within moments, but at least half an hour goes by before her fever drops to one-oh-one, and I think that’s as low as it’ll probably go.
Five episodes of “The Big Bang Theory”later, a knock sounds on the door, followed by someone—and I know who—barging in without waiting for an invitation. Only one person does that, and one day she’ll regret those sudden invasions of privacy when she catches her son fucking someone in his living room.