The phone rang just as Christine was settling onto the couch, a soft chime cutting through the quiet room. She glanced at the caller ID — Jenn. The only one who'd call instead of just texting. Christine smiled tiredly and answered, "Hello?"Jenn's voice burst out in song before Christine could say another word.🎶 "Happy birthday to—"Jenn stopped mid-phrase, eyes narrowing in concern. "Wait—what the hell? Are you okay?"Christine's voice was rough, nasal, almost cracking. "I'm sick. Went to the doctor. Pneumonia."Jenn's tone softened. "Do you need anything? Anything at all?"Christine snorted quietly. "No. But you better not tell Dan. I don't need him calling my brother. Nor do I want either of them showing up here."Jenn sighed, a mix of amusement and exasperation in her voice. "Okay, but don't be surprised if I show up anyway."Christine wasn't listening—too busy blowing her nose into a tissue. She just yelled, "That's fine!" down the line.Jenn smiled, shaking her head. "Go rest, boss.""Yeah, yeah." Christine hung up.Before she knew it, Jenn was booking a flight to England. Once landed, she headed straight to Kent, to the quiet house where her boss lived. She let herself in with the spare key, locking the door behind her as she set down her bag on the kitchen table.Walking into the living room, Jenn found Christine asleep on the couch. She reached out and gently pressed her cool hand to Christine's forehead.Christine stirred, eyes fluttering open in surprise. "Jenn?""Hey, you looked like you needed a nurse."Christine gave a tired smile, then coughed lightly. Jenn began tidying the cluttered coffee table—the tissues, empty tea cups, medicine bottles.When finished, Jenn went to the kitchen to prepare tea. Minutes later she returned with a warm cup, setting it gently on the table beside Christine."Who all has wished you a happy birthday?" Jenn asked softly.Christine thought for a moment. "My brother... my nephew Dan... the band—Lindsey, John, Stevie, Mick."Jenn nodded. "Sounds like you have your favorites."Throughout the day, Jenn cared for Christine — changing damp cloths, offering sips of water, helping her settle. As evening crept in, Christine's nausea returned unexpectedly. Jenn swiftly grabbed a bucket and placed it by the couch just in time.Christine retched softly into it, Jenn rubbing her back with steady comfort."It's okay," Jenn whispered. "You're going to be alright."Christine nodded weakly, closing her eyes as Jenn stayed close by, a quiet guardian through the long night.
By the time the vomiting stopped, Christine leaned back weakly against the couch cushions, pale and clammy, her breathing shallow but steady. Jenn gently wiped her mouth with a cool cloth and set the bucket aside.
"I hate this," Christine whispered hoarsely, her voice scratchy with exhaustion.
"I know," Jenn said softly. She knelt beside the couch, brushing back a few strands of Christine's damp hair. "But you're not alone in it."
Christine blinked slowly, too tired to say much more. She looked at Jenn — really looked — and gave her a faint, grateful smile.
Jenn stood, adjusted the blanket over her boss's legs, and dimmed the lamp. "Try to rest a little. I'll be right here."
Christine nodded and closed her eyes again.
Jenn sat on the armchair across from her, phone in hand, but barely checked it. She was listening — to the soft rhythm of Christine's breathing, the slight rattle in her chest that hadn't quite cleared yet. Every now and then, Jenn got up to check her temperature, offer another sip of water, or just stand quietly to make sure she hadn't worsened.
It wasn't glamorous. But it mattered.
The clock ticked past midnight.
Sometime around 2 a.m., Christine stirred again, groggy and disoriented. "Jenn?"
Jenn was already beside her. "I'm here."
"I need to sit up. I feel gross lying down."@@
Jenn helped her ease upright, then fluffed the pillows behind her. Christine leaned back slowly, then glanced toward the kitchen. "Is it too late for tea?"
