Hate to Love You [Elvis]

Chapter 19 - Lovesick

My head felt like an inflated balloon. Thankfully, Rich didn't need me too badly, so he said to take a sick day. They could spare an extra. It was already noon, and I was still in bed, five hours after I called Rich and fed Dixie. I had fallen asleep after I called, and after I woke up, the sinus pressure was unbearable, giving me a horrible headache, and my body shook. I took aspirin, but that didn't help much.

"Dixie," I moaned in my clogged voice, "I hate being sick, but I'll take it if it means I can stay away from him..."

She was nestled next to my belly above the blankets that were covering the whole of me up to my chin, and I felt warm, yet still shivered. Dixie's beady brown eyes blinked at me a couple times then drooped closed. She liked having me home, sick or not. I let an arm out of my blankets and petted her soft, furry head.

My eyes started to droop again, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I reached for my glass of water that was sitting on my new little side table, but it was empty. I groaned.

"Dixie, I'm gonna have to get up and refill my glass," I complained and pulled my blankets off of me, and she got up and jumped off the bed. I got my fuzzy blue robe and wrapped it around me. My body still shivered, and my throat was sore.

My little companion followed me into the kitchen flooded with mid-day light, and I filled my glass from the tap. I drank down the cold water, but the relief on my sore throat only lasted a second. I didn't want to leave to get cough drops and other medicine. I could barely get out of bed.

"Let's go, Dixie," I said weakly and nasally with the glass in my hand that I had to refill again. As I came into the hallway, the phone rang. I groaned. "C'mon, I just wanna rest."

Maybe it was Mom or Dad. But why would they call in the middle of the day, knowing I would be at work? I set the glass down on the kitchen counter and went to the black rotary phone on a little table near the front door. My apartment was nearly fully furnished. I just needed a bookcase and TV set. All that would come with my next two paychecks.

"Hello, this is Sarah Paul," I said in my sick voice.

"Sarah? Oh my, you sound awful. I heard you were sick."

My brows creased. "Nay? How'd you hear that?"

"Scotty was on the set today, and he asked about you, and Rich told him you called this morning saying you caught a nasty cold. Scotty called me on his lunch break and told me, you know, since he usually calls me during his and my lunch breaks."

If only it were easier to let our friends know if we were sick, quicker than finding a good time to call them and going through everyone else. "I see. Well, yeah, I'm sick. My nose is clogged, so I can't breathe through it, my throat's soar, my body is achy and shivery, and... Golly, I just feel like garbage."

"I'm so sorry, sweetie... Have you taken medicine?"

"Some aspirin this morning after I called Rich, but not after. I've been sleeping, and I'm not going to leave in this condition to go and get medicine. Ow..." It hurt to talk since my throat was soar.

"Then let me come and give you something. I'm still on my lunch hour and have twenty minutes left. I've eaten and talked to Scotty already, so I have time."

I smirked gratefully. "Thanks, Nay, but I'll be okay. Plus, I'm thankful that I'm missing being on the set at the moment."

She paused for a second, then, "Is it because of Elvis? Of course, why wouldn't it be? What happened this time?"

After I left the set the day before, I was too much in a huff to call Nay. I went home, made dinner, then went to bed. I woke up sick. "Well... gosh, that guy..."