Good Enough to Eat (21 page)

But what if I’m not?

 

 

Everything hurts.

My eyelashes ache. The little bits of skin between my fingers are sore. The tendons in my knees are tight. My earlobes are sad and tender. I have a sore throat that has lodged itself at the very top of my sinuses, feeling like it is right at the internal base of my nose. My eyes are puffy and bloated feeling. My head is stuffy, but when I blow my nose, nothing comes.

I’m fucked.

In most jobs, although it isn’t encouraged, you can usually fudge if you have a cold. If you aren’t barfing, then it’s just about suffering through your day in a haze of cold medicine and hot tea with honey and trying not to breathe on people. You can buy some of that sanitizing gel and wash your hands a lot and get through your day.

But in the food business, you can’t go to work when you are sick. In fact, you’re supposed to leave work the moment you feel the tiniest symptom coming on. Because kitchens are tiny places where you share air and touch one another constantly and any contagious sickness can spread like Ebola if you aren’t careful, taking down a whole staff. And what is worse, you can pass something on to a customer. As careful as we have to be with general sanitation to prevent food-borne illness, we have to be equally vigilant about colds and the flu. I thought the headache I had when I came home last night was just the result of a long day at the store, but I appear to be wrong.

I roll over and pick up the phone.

“Weensie! Whassup?” I have no idea how Kai can be so chipper at five thirty in the morning.

I put on my saddest, most nasal Edith Ann voice. “I’m sick. I habe a code in by node.”

“Oh, no no no no no. Poor thing, you sound peevish and peaked and you must STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! Phil and I are going up to Door County this weekend, and I will NOT spend my mini vaca languishing in bed with the sniffles, DO YOU HEAR ME? Go back to bed. I’ll call Delectable and see if she can come in early. But before you go back to sleep, go wake the little pink-haired pixie and tell her to come on down and help. Suggest she go stay with that boyfriend of hers for a couple of days so she doesn’t catch the plague from you. I’ll call you later.”

“Danks, Kai. I readdy appreciade id.”

“Get some rest. It’s only Wednesday. Hopefully if you take care of yourself today and tomorrow you’ll be right as rain by Friday.”

“Oday. Dalk to you lader.”

I drag myself out of bed, feeling like I weigh a million pounds. I knock on Nadia’s door, hear a muffled noise and open it.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH-HHHHHH!” A naked Nadia rolls off the side of the pull-out bed.

“Oh, I, um, I, hi . . .” An equally naked Daniel reaches down to the foot of the bed to retrieve the rumpled sheet, which he pulls to his chest like a timid bride.

“Oh, crap. I’m so sorry, I, um . . . I didn’t dow . . .” I back out of the room and close the door. I stand in the hallway, stunned. I can hear rumblings and stumblings and mutterings behind the door. Suddenly the door flies open, and Daniel, red-faced and with his shirt on inside out, exits.

“Sorry, Melanie. I, um, it was very nice to see you again.” And he runs up the hallway, and I can hear the door click as he leaves. Nadia stands in front of me in her bathrobe.

“Jesus, Mel, you scared the ever-loving craparoonie out of me. What’s going on?”

“I’m sick. I habe a code. I can’d go to work. Kai is going to open the store and see if Delia can come in early, but he asked me to check to see if you could come id as well to hep him oud. I didn’t know you had company. I’m sorry I walked in od you.”

“Oh you poor thing, you sound TERRIBLE! I’ll jump in the shower and go down to the store to meet Kai. Is there anything you need, anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“Pack a bag.”

She looks stricken. “What? You want me to leave? Just because Daniel slept over without asking you? He brought me home late, we had a nightcap, we fell asleep watching TV, I didn’t think it was . . .”

It takes my fuzzy head a minute to realize she thinks I’m kicking her out. “No, no, no, stop. I’m dot mad. I’m a little embarrassed, and we should probably habe a system for warning someone about things like dis, but I meant that you should go spend a couple nights at Daniel’s place so you don’t catch my code. I don’t want to make you sick.”

She laughs. “Paranoid much, Nadia? I’m sorry, Mel, it’s early, and I didn’t sleep much, and the look on your face when you came through the door. You’re really not mad?”

“I’m too stuffy and shitty to be mad. I’m just glad you can go help Kai. But serioudly. Dis id a really icky code, I don’t want you to ged id. So tell Daniel his punishdment for violating the sancdidy of my house id to pud you up for a couple nights till I ged bedder.”

“Will do. Go back to bed. I’ll call later to see how you are doing, and you can let me know if you want me to get anything for you.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

I slump back into my bedroom, crawl under the covers, and fall back into the dead dreamless sleep of the afflicted.

 

 

I wake in a pool of sweat, my fever having broken while I was asleep, making the sheets uncomfortably sticky. I throw off the covers and get out of bed, still leaden and aching. I go to the bathroom and run a hot shower, find an old mentholated bath disk under the sink and put it on the floor of the shower, hoping the eucalyptus vapors will cut through the cotton in my head a little bit. I put on a shower cap, deciding that wet hair is going to be a bad idea, and knowing I have neither the strength nor inclination to use the hair dryer. The hot water scalds a bit at first, my skin still clammy from the fever sweat. But gradually it stops stinging and starts soothing, and by the time I get done, I feel a little better.

I get dried off and get into my cashmere lounging pajamas, a birthday gift from Gilly, and a luxury I thought was ridiculous until now. I head out to the kitchen, and put on the kettle for tea when there is a gentle knocking at the door. I walk over and open it up.

“Hey, beautiful!” Nathan says.

I slam the door in his face. “Go away!” I yell at the closed door.

“I will not. Open up.”

“Dot a chance. I’ll make you sick.”

“I’ll take that risk. Open this door.”

“You can’d make me. I habe a miserable code, I feel like crap, I look like crap, I’m nod up for company. And I don’d wand you to get id. Go away and lub me from afar.”

“I am going to love you from anear, and I’ve had my flu shot this year, and I think you look lovely, and I am going to come in there and take care of you. Now open this door.”

“No, no, no, no, no. I will nod and you cannod make me.”

“You leave me no choice.” Suddenly I hear a key in the lock, and the doorknob turns, and the door is open.

He grins, dangling the key at me. “Nadia called and told me you were under the weather, and she loaned me her key in case you were sleeping when I came over.” He is carrying a big bag from Treasure Island. He leans over and kisses my forehead. “No fever, that’s a good sign. Go get yourself settled on the couch and I’ll get this stuff put away and bring you a cup of tea, how’s that?”

“The kettle is on. Thanks, Nate, readdy, I . . .”

He puts a gentle finger on my lips. “Go get comfy, sweetheart. I’ll be in with your tea shortly. Have you eaten anything yet today?”

“Not yet.”

“Think you can manage something, or is your stomach wonky?”

“It isn’t a stomach bug, just a bad head and chest code.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll bring you something to eat as well. Now scoot.”

I head into the living room, and curl up in the chaise section of the couch, pulling the throw blanket over me. I bought it in Christchurch when Andrew and I were in New Zealand for our fifth anniversary. It is a pale blue leaning toward teal, heathered with brown, and made of a combination of merino wool and Chinese possum fur. It is the coziest thing I own next to these pajamas. I can hear Nathan puttering around in the kitchen, and suddenly I start to cry.

Alone isn’t bad, mostly. I’m independent; I don’t need constant company or socialization. I was always okay eating alone, going to movies solo, keeping my own counsel. The time I’ve had since Andrew and I split hasn’t been easy, but it isn’t the alone part that was tough; it was the betrayal and feeling of being such an idiot that made things hard. But the one time that being alone really sucks is when you’re sick. Having to take care of yourself, make your own food and clean up, having to get yourself dressed enough to go to the drugstore for Kleenex and cough syrup.

The last time I got a cold like this was about a month after I moved into this place, and I was amazed at how truly depressed I got having to take care of myself. But now, as shitty as I feel, I’m so grateful to have this man in my kitchen, making me tea and breakfast, here to take care of me.

Nate comes in with a tray, and I quickly blow my nose and wipe my eyes before he sees that I’m emotional. Lucky for me, he is paying very close attention to not spilling what’s on the tray, which he puts down on the coffee table in front of me.

“Tea with honey and a little bit of lemon. Toast with some of that apricot jam you like. And a sliced banana.”

“Thank you, Nate, it’s all wonderful. Now can I please ged you to leave? I’m serious, it’s a nasty bid of business, dis, and I’m going to feel so bad if I give id to you, especially since, unless you ged id on a Monday, I can’d redurn the Florence Nighdingale favor.”

“I once did a film about doctors, and you know what I found out? The common cold is at its most contagious in the three days before the symptoms appear. By the time you get sick, you are really unlikely to make anyone else sick unless you are swapping spit or coming into contact with mucus and the like. So, while I will refrain from juggling your snotty tissues, making out with you, or eating off your fork for the time being, it’s likely that I’ll be safe. And since I haven’t seen you in four days, I should be reasonably out of danger.”

“Id dat true?”

“Yep. So stop trying to get me to leave, and let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” He goes to the kitchen to tidy up, and I drink my tea and eat the toast and banana. It makes me feel better. He returns with a glass of water for himself and a bag from Walgreens, which he hands to me.

I open the bag and find daytime cold medicine and nighttime cold medicine, cough drops, little Kleenex packets, and a stack of silly tabloid celebrity magazines.

He smiles at me. “Figured while you were getting better you might want to catch up on all your Britney Spears gossip and find out how many more kids Brangelina are planning on adopting.”

I laugh. “You think ob everything.”

“I try.”

I yawn deeply, the hot shower and tea and food hitting me all at once.

“Why don’t you see if you can nap for a little while, rest is the best thing for you.”

“And what are you going to do while I’m sleeping?”

“I brought a book and the crossword, and who knows, I may even grab some winks myself. Don’t worry about me, just settle in.” He gets up and tucks the blanket more carefully around me, putting a small throw pillow behind my head. Then he kisses the top of my head, picks up my empty tray and heads back for the kitchen. I’m asleep before he returns.

 

 

When I wake I’m groggy with the discomfit that comes with oversleep. The room isn’t dark exactly, but it is clear that I’ve lost a large percentage of the day. I stretch, feeling the tightness in my muscles that comes with too long a sleep in an odd position.

“Well, look who’s up!” Nate says from across the room. He’s sitting in a chair, small reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, his feet crossed on the coffee table, a book facedown across his stomach.

“Hey.” My voice is rough, my mouth dry and foul tasting to me.

Nate gets up and crosses to the couch, sitting next to me and stroking my face. “I think your fever came back a little, how do you feel?”

“Stiff, out of it. And parched.”

“Let me get you something to drink.”