Perspective (MJ)

Her Tragedy

Her Tragedy

"Are you feeling any better?" he says, rubbing the palm of his hand on my burning chest in effective, circular motions. I nod quickly, allowing several coughs to escape out of my sore throat, already having a rapidly rising temperature. After loud, powerful sneezes have been let out, he nudges me and laughs, squirming at my expense.

"A little bit. That's not funny-you recover from fevers the quickest," I hastily turn my head away at the spoon, filled with clear liquid, that Michael nears to my dry mouth which won't stop swallowing cough drops that don't aid in a painful throat.

"And here I am caring for you," he smiles beautifully, still attempting to get the spoon into my mouth. I shake my head, gesturing that I will not take the medicine as it's bitter and not the tasty liquids that we both used to take all the time when we were youths-even when we were found not to have any colds.

"I don't want it!" I protest, already wanting more paracetamol for my aching head. It's already been over three hours and in that period of time, I have been sleeping in his arms of protection hoping that his comfort and magical presence will ease the effects of my cold away. He giggles softly and allows me to reach for the small box of tablets; seemingly I cannot, as I believe that my ache is affecting my ability to movement. Without notice, he pushes the spoon into my mouth; I don't refuse so injuries will be avoided. Scrunching my eyes, I force myself to take down the bitter liquid that effectively burns my throat-and does begin to soothe the scratchy dryness of it.

"One more," he somehow reasons and I end up taking it for the sake of my throat and the relieving of a whole, weak body.

When I've taken the medicine, after Michael has explained to me that I can't take the paracetamol tablets as I have taken the liquid to jog my now slow memory, he rests me onto his lap, gently playing with pieces of my hair. I relax at his touch, only wanting that and nothing more. The soft skin of his is beautifully tingling when it comes into contact with mine making me shuffle closer to him, wanting more and more of all the beauty he withholds inside and out.

"Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat," he questions softly, lightly running his fingertips through the very roots of my hair.

I shake my head, smiling at his generosity. "I'm not hungry. Thank you for offering though."

He places a kiss at the side of my face and suddenly, I feel the weight of his head pressed onto mine; his lips trail unintentionally with a speedily manner down the skin of my face, resulting in a furrowing of eyebrows which show bemusement at first glance.

"Are you alright?" I ask, slightly tilting my head to his direction. I believe that the sudden movement of his warm lips was not of a desire or anything wanting and needing; it felt as if through his lips, for a moment he could not control his body. I don't know what to feel, I allow the rapid rate of my heart to be concealed so Michael will not have any worry within him and scribed onto his face.

He gives me a yes, along with a light breath emitting from his mouth. The fact that he is positive that there is nothing wrong with him, increases my worry. After a few moments of sitting in silence, his fingers trace shapes onto my chest and I tense at the completely different temperature that hits onto me. He immediately notices and assuringly pushes me off his legs, opening his drawer and bringing out a small glass pot which contains yellow petroleum jelly.

"That's rub. Mother used to apply it to Jamila and I's chests when we were younger," I smile at the memory of frequent colds and moaning of struggling sleep. A painful memory yet one that I do know I will cherish.

"This is my Grandmother's. Whenever she visits our family, she brings all sorts of remedies for colds and pains. And they always work. But she hasn't visited us in ages," he says quietly, in a trance of memorial thoughts, removing the lid. I exhale, a small sympathetic smile now on my face, moving slowly towards him.