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Chapter 138

All I can think about is you
We fall in a wonderland
So low
A wonderland for you
I wanna walk into

— Coldplay, All I Can Think About is You

. . . .

Following the trip to the ski resort, I had caught a cold from getting in and out of the hot tub with nothing but a bikini while I was soaking wet all too many times. Yesterday, the Sunday that we left the resort, I had felt my throat close up and my nose airways become tighter, allowing less and less oxygen to get through. Harry and Lilly were perfectly healthy on the ride home into today. They're still off from work and school, enjoying their time off while I'm laying in bed all day watching tv.

Midway through an episode, Harry comes in carrying a bottle of water and some cold medicine. He sits down on the bed beside my legs and rests the cold bottle against my body.

"You need to drink something."

"I don't want to. I'm not thirsty," I reply with a croaky voice.

"You need to, Vi. At least take a warm shower or bath. It might make you feel better."

"I don't want to get up."

"How about I make a bath for you? I'll help you to the tub if you need me to."

I nod, and he squeezes my hand. He starts running the water then walks back out to me. He opens the bottle of water, nudging it towards me along with the medicine. I force both down before standing up. The dizziness hits me as I rise to my normal height then slowly trudge into the bathroom where the tub faucet is running. He's working the controls on the thermometer that he used on me early this morning. It's around three o'clock now, but I'm still exhausted.

"Open," he says, holding the tip of the thermometer near my mouth and waiting for me to slip it under my tongue. He reads the temperature to himself then verbalizes it to me. "I'll go make you some tea."

He washes his hands as I'm stripping my clothes from last night then sit down in the warm bathwater. I'm left alone once again, letting the water lap over my limbs. He brings the tea in and sets it on the ledge of the tub.

Before he takes a step to walk out and leave me sick and alone by myself, I reach up for his hand and say, "Stay in here with me, please."

"I'm going to text your dad and let him know you're sick, just in case. Can I use your phone?" He asks, still holding onto my wet hand.

"Yeah, it's on my table."

"Okay, I'll be back."

He disappears and brings my phone back in with him, sitting on the floor with his back against the sink cabinets. His fingers tap against the screen and I hear the 'swoop' noise of a message being sent followed by the sound of an iPhone locking.

"I hope you feel better."

"Me too," my voice cracks, my throat almost to the point of being too sore to talk. I take a few cautioned sips of the tea, prejudging its temperature.

During this bath, I don't really bathe myself, more so just soaking in the warm water until it cools down. It's a waste of water, I know, but it feels comforting at the moment. Drying off, I put on a different outfit that lifts my mood a bit more from not feeling so groggy and gross in the same clothes I had been wearing that had spilt tea and vegetable soup broth dribbled on the chest part of the T-shirt.

Harry gathers up the previous outfit from the floor and drops it into a laundry basket to wash clothes. However, I retreat to the bed where I continue my Netflix spree.