In Sickness and In Health

Chapter 13

Darry's POV

I drift in and out of sleep on the couch. I don't much feel better, but I didn't want to leave Steve by himself after he had offered to stay. I probably am not the best company right now, but I think he knows I didn't want to come out at all in the first place. I'm not contagious so I don't have too much of an excuse besides I don't feel like it. Which is probably a fine excuse as it is considering I am sick, but I don't know. I'm not really thinking straight. I don't like this. I like knowing exactly what's going on. Deciding I need a break from thinking I just lay on the couch with my knees bent so I fit on with a kind of funny show on TV playing quietly. After awhile I smell the soothing aroma of chicken noodle soup fill the whole house. My eyes close again and I didn't realize I had fallen back asleep until I hear Steve's voice. At first it's muffled, but then my I peel my eyes open and blink because of the brightness, but finally start to hear him say, "I got some soup, Darry, and a glass of water too. You awake?" "What? Yeah, I'm up, yeah," I say sitting up too fast. My head sways and I grab the arm of the couch trying to balance myself. "Darry," Steve says hesitantly setting the soup and water on the beaten down coffee table, "Darry, just take it easy." He grabs my shoulder and feels the back of my neck. My eyes open wide. It's been so long since anyone's felt for my temperature and it still surprises me.
"Hey, buddy, you eat up, I'm gonna take your temperature again," Steve explains going to get the thermometer. He goes out of the room and I pick up the bowl of soup. Steve comes back in. "Thanks for the soup, Steve." "No problem, man. Here take your temperature," he says handing me the thermometer. A little while later he takes the thermometer out of my mouth and looks at it. "Hey, it's 101.9. That's lower than it was, wasn't?" "Sure is," I say taking another bite of soup. We watch TV for awhile and when I go to put my bowl in the sink Steve looks at me and stands up taking the bowl saying, "No sir, you're not doing no chores today." "Steve," I try to say. "Lay back down, mister," he orders washing my bowl along with all the other dishes. I'm pretty tired so I stop fighting my stubborn self and lay back down. Not too long later I barely hear Steve ask, "You awake, Dar?" I kind of mumble in response, though I'm not really completely awake and my eyes are still closed. "You don't gotta wake up for this, Darry, don't try to. It's easier if you're not asleep. I just felt like I should thank you. You know, for taking care of me all these years- you, and Soda, and your folks, and even Pony. It's been pretty hard," Steve's voice shakes a little before he continues, "My dad used to be so nice, but ever since he started going down hill- you know. I get mad at him, but I remember how he used to be and I always go back, then leave, go back, and leave, and over and over and over. He needs someone to make sure there's food in the fridge and that the bills get paid and to see someone still loves him. It's just so hard sometimes." Steve, thinking I'm asleep, leans deeper into the chair I usually sit in and crosses his arms staring far away. Still barely awake I softly whisper, "I'm sorry." Steve looks at me and smiles just a little and lightly whispers back, "Thanks, man. Go back to sleep. Soda's gonna be here soon." By the time he's done talking, I've already drifted off to sleep.