His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Thirty-One: Sick

A/N: Double update!

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Chapter Thirty-One: Sick

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Ophelia:

Tuesday morning I wake up at like, 5 am with this horrible nausea and spend a lot of time hunched over the toilet bowl, retching the contents of my stomach, which is apparently nothing but a lot of bile and mucus and saliva.

And I have these cramps and disgusting, watery diarrhea and I feel so gross and sick and just really, really bleckh.

Mom's in the kitchen by 7 o'clock as I clutch my achy stomach and trudge towards her in my pyjamas. The nausea is so bad and my muscles hurt and I'm so tired. "Mommy. I feel so sick." Ugh, why am I crying too? "My stomach really, really hurts."

"Oh, baby. It's okay. Here, sit down."

She pulls out one of the barstools in front of the island and sits me down and gets me to explain all my symptoms to her. "Sounds like you have a stomach bug, Fee. You need to rest and drink lots of water. I'll take you to the clinic when I get back from work, okay?"

She presses the back of her hand to my forehead and my cheeks, musses my hair and gives me a comforting hug. "I'll call your school and tell them you're not feeling well. You should stay home today. I know we have some Gravol around here somewhere..."

She rushes around the kitchen before setting a full glass of cool water, a couple round, pink pills, and a can of ginger-ale in front of me. "If your muscle pain gets worse, take an Advil, okay? Not the cold-and-sinus kind, just the normal kind. It's in the medicine cabinet."

I choke down the pills and water and force myself to crack open the ginger-ale even though I'm still so nauseous.

The scent of crisping toast wafts through the kitchen and just smells so noxious all of a sudden.

"I'll call you a few times throughout the day to check in, okay? Keep your phone on. But if you're sleeping, don't worry about it, just call me when you wake up."

She's already all dressed for work, looking as beautiful and put-together as she usually does in a grey dress and pantyhose and with her hair and make-up all nice. Except her forehead is wrinkled with concern as she helps me to my room and tucks me in under the covers. "I'm gonna come and bring you some tea and orange juice, okay? You're probably not hungry, but if you are, I'll keep some soup on the stove for you. You'll just have to heat it up in the microwave."

"Thanks, Mom."

She purses her lips worriedly. "If it gets worse, call me and I'll see if I can take the day off or something, okay?"

"I think I should be fine," I say, even though I feel like crap. Mom loves her job and she has a very important role at The Press so I know that missing a day is easier said than done for her.  "Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart." She brushes my hair away from my forehead and gives my cheek a gentle pinch.

A few minutes later, someone knocks on the door and then pushes it open. "Hey, princess. What's up?" Dad's all ready for work too. He also looks really professional and I personally think he looks young for his age, and my friends say he's very handsome but he's my dad so I don't know about that. He's wearing grey slacks and a light-blue-and-white pin-striped button-down shirt and a dark red tie and his hair is still a little damp from his shower.