Avi Kaplan: A Collection of Short Stories

Sickness

You saw Avi sick once.

You came home to find him curled up on the couch, smothered with blankets yet shivering and boxes of tissue scattered about the floor. Walking over to him, you kneeled down on the floor next to his head and brushed the hair from his forehead.

"Babe, you're on fire," you said, frowning.

Avi blinked sleepily at you and said, his voice wavering from his shivering, "I'm miserable."

You spent the rest of the day tending to him, making sure he stayed hydrated and attempting to get him to eat something. You went to bed that night with a sense of accomplishment in helping him feel better.

But nothing could have prepared you for his next illness.

+++

You think you noticed something was wrong before he did.

Watching him rehearse, you noticed he was getting out of breath in between songs. He seemed to hide it well from the others, using those moments to pretend to take sips of water, but you could tell that his breathlessness was from something other than exertion.

On those blissful days off between shows, Avi slept. Not the sleep of a man exhausted from performing, but the sleep of someone sick, sleeping twelve, sometimes fourteen hours. And when he woke, he'd continue to yawn and to claim to be tired.

He always brushed it off when you asked about it. "Touring is exhausting; my body just needs to get used it again."

You gave him his space, never pushing for him to seek medical attention, but you continued to watch him closely.

He was starting to worry you.

+++

You think he started to notice something was wrong when he lost his appetite.

It was the end of their tour and everyone was going out for food and drinks. Avi barely touched his food, pushing it around his plate instead and taking minimal sips of water. You rubbed your hand over his knee under the table and leaned closer to his ear. "Are you feeling okay?"

He rested his hand over yours and turned towards you, "I don't know. I think maybe I'm getting sick," he said, frowning.

"Please let me take you home," you said, hating the look of sheer exhaustion on his face.

Avi, to your surprise, didn't protest and you both uttered your apologizes and goodbyes before leaving. You had to walk slower to keep pace with him, his fatigue and shortness of breath making the short trip to your car more arduous than normal. After he got into the car, Avi almost instantly fell asleep. You couldn't help but steal glances at him every few seconds during your drive home.

Getting out of the car, Avi had to lean against you and you threw an arm around his back to help steady him. You had almost reached your bedroom when Avi's legs suddenly gave out from under him and he gave out a cry of frustration as you had to lower him to the floor.

He leaned against the wall just outside the door, breath coming out in short gasps and blinked up at you tiredly. "I'm not okay," he moaned.

Kneeling down beside him, you placed both hands on either side of his face and kissed his forehead. He placed a hand on your forearm and sighed at your touch. "Let me get you dressed and into bed. We've only got six feet to go, okay, just six feet," you said softly.

He nodded and you helped him off the floor and walked with him the last few feet to the bed. "Start getting undressed and I'll bring you clothes." You turned from him to find something for him to sleep in.