[ twenty five ]
As the afternoon turned into night time, I felt my energy draining dramatically. My mom and I left James house as the sun went down because we needed to wash up and change into clean clothes for the novenas that night. I changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a nice blouse and when I walked out into the livingroom, my mother was there with a container of rice pudding dessert.
By then, my head was pounding. I was too tired to do anything. But my mother placed the container in my hands and urged, "Go take this to my comadre's house." Her comadre, her friend.
I groaned. "Pero mama," But mom, "I'm tired."
"Come on Arista, no arguing with me," My mom said to me, "Since you'll already be over there, you can go with James and meet us at the first house."
I rolled my eyes at her. Of course, that was her plan all along, to get James and I together.
Finally, with a sigh, I agreed. "Okay, I'll meet you there."
-
The walk to James house was only a couple of minutes, but those few minutes served to make me feel worse. I felt like I wouldn't make it to his house. It was a mild day in Bogota in terms of weather, but I felt a chill run down my spine. All those hours in the kitchen seemed to affect me negatively.
I knocked on his front door and James was the one who answered.
"Hola Ari." He grinned at the sight of me. But his smile dropped when he saw the way I looked. "What's wrong? You're looking pale."
The first thing I did was to hand him the heavy container of rice pudding in his hands. He set it on a small table near the front door and was still quick enough to catch me in his arms as I stumbled forward. "I'm not feeling too well." I croaked weakly.
"Don't worry, I won't let you fall." He assured and he picked me up off the ground. Everything felt like it was spinning around me and I let myself fall limp in his arms. I had no energy to move, and that made me not fight James as he carried me into one of the bedrooms. My eyes were closed tight, having them open made my head hurt even more.
I only opened them when I felt him set me down on a bed. My hands felt around me, trying to reach for the covers, since I now felt very cold.
We were in his bedroom. I knew it because we often played in here as children, and the posters of his favorite football players clung to the walls, covering almost every inch of it. Everything in his room looked exactly as it did when he left for Argentina, to begin his football career abroad. Since then, he had only returned very little and spent almost no time in the room of his parents' house where he grew up.
He cupped my face in his hands and then one of his hands went to feel my forehead. "Arista, you're burning up. I'll go get you some medecine."
I tried to sit up, but it was no use. "I need to call my mom."
My hand reached into my jeans pocket to retrieve my phone while James rushed out of the room, clearly worried. I dialed my mom's number and waited for her to answer.
"Arista?" My mom said into the phone, "Where are you?"
"At James' house." I informed her weakly.
"What are you still doing there?" She asked.
"I feel really sick." I managed to choke out with a hand on my forehead like I was agonizing. "I can't even move. Can you and dad come get me?"
"No." She quickly said. "Its better if you stay there and rest. You can come back as soon as you feel better."
