Phone.
Couldn�t find it.
Didn�t care.
Thought I heard someone in the house.
Didn�t care.
Decided death would be ok too.
I awoke, turned on the television and saw my favorite Thursday evening program on. Had I really been out of it the entire week? My knees were still shakey and I hadn�t eaten anything in days. I wandered to the refrigerator and drank glass after glass of grape juice, the cool sweet dark liquid hitting my throat in a way that made me want to sing in joy. I contemplated getting dressed but even then, the room was spinning spinning spinning. I managed to brush my teeth and went back to bed.
Phone.
�Hello?� I whispered.
�Lola?�
�Hmmm?� Foggy. Who? What?
�Lola? Are you ok? Are you feeling better?�
�Who IS this?� I squinted at the clock. It was one in the afternoon.
�It�s Michael.� Even delusional, I could sense the irritation in his voice, as though he felt we were already beyond needing to announce ourselves on the phone.
�Hi�. Mike� Michael�. Hi. Um. Hi.� I stumbled for some water.
�So, I take it you�re still sick?� He said. �Do you need anything?�
�Um� yeah, still sick. I just need sleep. Need sleep.�
�Ok, well, call me if you need anything. You know where I am. Feel better.�
�Yeah, Micheal� bye Michael.� I slurred.
Friday afternoon. I called Lucy at work and asked her to come and take me to the doctor. Made her stop the car so I could throw up on the side of the street. Didn�t care about how embarrassing that was. Doctor gave me another prescription, orders to drink more fluids, and to stay home for another week, bare minimum.
Went home. Slept through the rest of the weekend. Lived on the dwindling stock of delicious chicken soup and fresh juices in the refrigerator. Hoped that I got better before I ran out. Otherwise I�d certainly pass away.
Surprisingly, I had very little concern about whether or not this happened.
On Monday morning, there was a knock on the door. I threw on a robe and opened it, blinking into the harsh spring sunlight. Standing on my porch was a sharply dressed delivery woman wearing an apron.
�Um, yes??�
�I have a delivery for a Ms Lauren Hayes.� She said, checking the neatly printed slip and sneaking a look up at my house number.
�I�m Lauren Hayes, but I didn�t order anything, so I think you made a mistake, sorry.� I squinted at her.
�Um, no Ma�am, this wasn�t you. It was a gentleman� said he was your boyfriend? He took care of the bill with a credit card. Said he was going out of town and wanted to make sure that you were taken care of.�
Ah ha. Michael must have been feeling guilty. I opened the door to take the bag of neatly packaged containers.
�Actually, there�s more. I�ll be right back.� I looked at her in astonishment and watched as he bounded down my walk to a PT Cruiser with Metro Flexible Cuisine and Catering printed on the side. She returned with arms full of two paper bags, a gallon of orange juice, and a twelve-pack of spring water. She set them on my entry way table while I still stood astonished.
�Would you like me to put them away for you, Ma�am? He said you weren�t feeling well.�
�No, that�s ok. Thank you!�
��K, I stuck our menu in there. If there�s something you don�t like or want more of� most people once they�ve tried our brownies decide that they need seconds and thirds and fourths�. Just give us a call. And�� She said with a wink. �You must be one lucky lady!�
I closed the door and looked down at the mountain of edibles. Lovely fruit salads, star fruits, kiwi, honeydews and grapes, with some gruyere, muenster and sharp cheddar cheeses in one bag. Another had a large quart of chicken dumpling soup, two mini quiches, a roast chicken, and a miscellaneous tray of sliced rare roast beef, ham, smoked salmon, turkey, and chicken. A paper bag contained whole grain rolls, croissants, Nutella, boysenberry jam, a box of blackberry ginger tea, and a little plastic bear-shaped squeeze bottle full of honey. The last bag held six densely frosted brownies, a dozen chocolate chip cookies, and a quart of Ben & Jerry�s Cherry Garcia.
I smiled and decided to give Michael a big kiss the next time I saw him. For the first time in a week, I felt like eating. I wandered back to the kitchen to find some silverware.
