Weathered Love

ANDREW V

It was Ella. In all the bustling to get home and see Andrew and make sure he was OK, I completely forgot I'd gotten other calls while at the venue.

"Yes ma'am," I stated into the phone as I picked it up.

"You know, I'm quitting as your manager. You're the worst client ever," she angrily stated.

"You're not quitting, because then you'd have to find another job, considering I'm your only client," I pointed out. I smiled to myself. In true Ella fashion, she pulled me out of myself without even realizing it.

"I'm serious this time," she insisted.

"OK," I shrugged, hoping she caught my patronizing tone.

"What happened? I thought we were filming today," she stated.

"Agh! I completely forgot! I'm at the hospital with Drew," I told her.

"Oh, OK," Ella responded without further comment. She didn't know the details of Andrew's illness, but she knew it was serious enough that it was fruitless prying me away from the hospital if he was there. "I'll just post online that the video schedule will be more sporadic and inconsistent because you're planning the seminar and it's crunch time."

"Thanks," I breathed. She seriously should start her own talent management company. She was so on-top of things and quick on her feet. She deserved huge commissions from big name stars, not a mediocre fee from a minor Internet celebrity like myself.

"I'll let you go so you can go back to fretting over your hubby," she stated.

"I can't see him right now, but I do have other calls to make," I informed her.

"Keep me posted, OK? Tell Drew he'd better treat you to a fantastic meal after all the worry he's putting you through," Ella commanded.

I chuckled. "Sure thing, boss. Talk soon."

"Later," Ella stated before hanging up.

I scrolled through my other missed calls and caught up on all of them, as well as the unanswered text messages. I had just finished responding to yet another email when I got a call from the hospital. Andrew was ready to go home. Which was odd. They usually kept him for at least one night to make sure his body could handle the new treatments. I ran inside, ecstatic that we wouldn't be required to stay another minute in that blanched, disease-filled box.

"He's still weak," the doctor informed me as I stepped into the waiting room to find them wheeling him out in a wheelchair. "For tonight, rest and clear liquids only." I nodded. It wasn't the first time I'd received such instruction. "But we actually want him to go back to normal tomorrow. In fact, we'd like it if he does a lot of activity tomorrow. Nothing more than he could handle before, but the more activity the better. Just keep a close eye on him." My nodding was hesitant this time. They normally hated it when Andrew was active. Before, it seemed like they wanted to tie him to the bed and never release him. Was this part of the testing? "Also, he'll need to come back in a week. We're seeing if perhaps this treatment, mixed in with an active lifestyle, will help," the doctor explained, not giving me much more.

At this point, Andrew was coming in and out of consciousness. "He'll be groggy for a while. James here will help you get him into the car. He should be awake enough to walk with assistance in thirty minutes or so," the doctor offered, nodding to someone who I assumed was an orderly and walking away. Thirty minutes was fine. I'd need more time to get home anyway, so Andrew would probably be more awake by the time we got home.

James wheeled Andrew outside, I fetched the car, and James lifted him into the passenger seat of the car. He even lowered the back a little so Andrew could be more comfortable. I appreciated his consideration. "Thanks," I said in a small voice when James finished. He gave me a kind smile and closed the door, then disappeared through the front hospital doors along with the wheelchair.