She was blithely unaware and yet she remembered tiny snatches; cold ice on her forehead, the lip of a glass too big to even attempt to drink from, whispers and colors and light.
Her dreams were filled with him, past and present all blending together.
Her favorite smell, of the soap and aftershave and paper that was her boyfriend, were present in the times
between sleep.
Her head felt as if it were weighted by bricks; she was shivering in chills one minute, sweating the next. During awareness, half of her was almost embarrassed to have Jim see her like this. That is, if he was still there. He could have well gone back to the office after tucking her in.
Except that when she finally opened her eyes, when the world was fuzzy, when her nose was endlessly dripping and her cough threatened to tear out her insides, he was there. The man she loved most in the world kissed her forehead and rubbed her back and smiled through all of it. He was the comfort she only could have imagined; in all those lonely months of waiting, she had never pictured it like this. She had painted it in her mind; Jim, with her, snuggling on the couch, but not like this. And the fact that it was like this, so surprising and so incredably sweet, made her love him even more.
She opened her eyes only to find that he was suddenly kissing her. She leaned into it, sick as she was, abandoning all hope of resistance.
“Hey.”
He was grinning, felt her forehead.
“So you think you’re gonna make it?” She coughed weakly and lay a hand on his chest. “For a minute there I thought you were a goner.”
She shot him a look of mock surprise. “You never know. It’s still early.”
Laughing, joking, kissing. Why did it still spread that warmth in her stomach even when it happened almost every waking moment? Even when she felt she could barely lift her head?
She sat up heavily, propping a pillow behind her head, as Jim snuggled in beside her, his tie off, his hands warm in her lap. She leaned against him, his fingers tangled in her hair.
And then she had slowly fallen asleep again, leaning against him, the warmth of his shirt soaked up in her body and adding a dizzying affect to her already fevered state of mind. Somewhere in between that time of holding hands in the dark, a cup of untouched weak tea and those loved fingers in her hair, she had gradually drifted back to blurriness, the haze of a few brief moments with her boyfriend playing in her mind.
Now.
Now she fought the urge to spill her stomach, trying to find the balance between dreamland and the harsh whiteness that was consuming her thoughts. Eyelids heavy, she made out the note on her coffee table, just inches from her face; it was written in those gorgeous messy letters only he could produce.
“Went to get a few things.
Try not to die while I’m gone.
Love, Jim”
She fingered the pen marks, the four tiny letters spewed from a ball-point that meant so much to her, to them. It was the one thing they had always had.
Always.
But never had she felt such a deep pounding in her head, such a tightness in her chest.
The sky was frigid black, a creeping chill weighted in the silent apartment.
Clock ticking, the dishwasher running its’ soapy cycle. How long had he been gone?
And how much medicine had she taken today? Instinct told Pam her temperature was significantly higher. And she had to pee. Perfect timing.
With all the collective strength she had left, her pajama pants puddling around her feet and every limb in her body seemingly a million pounds, she crawled to her tiny blue bathroom.
Head spinning deep circles around the room.
Where was the thermometer? The bottle of Advil?
She was having trouble thinking.
Nothing was focusing anymore.
She couldn’t remember now if she’d used the bathroom or not, though it had only been moments before. Or had it been? How long had she been crouching on the floor, the porcelian icy cold against the burning of her head?
She vomited into the toilet what little contents her stomach held, then collapsed, barely breathing. Where was Jim, again?
The world was faster, her thoughts slow, drowning.
She was returning to kisses in the car and Roy’s piercing hand on her thigh. A purple silk dress and the tingling in her toes. Papers clips tossed in a coffeecup. Jim, laughing with her. Jim, turned from her with that smile for someone else. Jim, gone. Jim, with his warmth seeping through her blouse after their first real kiss, heated in the rain.
Jim.
Were they together?
Were they apart? Was he gone forever, again?
She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, anymore.
Her fever playing cruel tricks on her mind, the room a dizzying merry-go-round, a lurching game of colors tossed everywhere but in place.
Only this time, she wasn’t laughing.
She had to make it back to the couch; Jim would be worried. she needed to get off the floor, she needed to get up, needed to drink, needed to stop this awful ache in her head.
Get up. Where was she?
There were flashes of light and dark, splotches of his face, the heat of the strongest fire in every inch of her body and something wet
As she slowly slid onto the carpet
And disappeared, yet again, into the dark.
``
Pink petals and three Blockbuster containers tumbled on the floor
As Jim crossed the welcome mat, wiped his feet,
And suddenly realized that Pam wasn’t on the couch.
He called her name, the rain from his coat soaked through to his skin,
Adding chill to his sudden frenzy.
Pam?
He found her lying on the floor in the bathroom, drenched in sweat, her cheeks set with rosy flush that could only be produced by fever. High fever.
Oh, Pam.
He knelt beside her for the second time that day, saying her name softly, soothingly, gathering her in his arms.
His heart was the hummingbird outside her window, a crazed dog chasing tail. She wasn’t responding and there wasn’t a feeling to describe this; scared wouldn’t do.
With a panic like fire spreading through his body, he tried to clear his mind to figure out what to do.
“Pam!”
His hands were on her cheeks, her forehead.
Burning.
She moaned softly, saying his name.
Just these thoughts;
Pam, with the moon on her cheeks after grilled cheese. The smile after conference calls, the whisper during meetings, the laughing in the break room.
Those green flecks in her eyes,
And the way her hands felt the first time they touched.
He kissed her fingers now, repeating her name.
His favorite letters.
He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, this girl that had set his heart on fire
The one who could stop the world with a smile
And keep it turning on its’ axis just as madly, for him.
This was the girl he was holding now
The girl he had waited four years for
The girl he had kissed at the wrong time, when nothing had felt so right
The girl who knew everything about him, and more
The girl who completed him.
This was the girl he would never let go of.
He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the couch.
Her hand was in his, unconsciously.
It was incredably warm.
Even through the dark, she was with him.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali