Ursa Minor (On hiatus)

Phantom pains

A/N: Dedicated to one of my newest followers and reviewers!

_______________________

An insisting ringing close to my ear woke me up.  

"Lo?" I said. My throat felt like it was on fire. Spending a weekend shouting and the go wandering around in the rain wasn't the best combination of activities. I'd been sleeping for hours and hours. Didn't even know what time it was. 

"Are you sick?" Trish asked on the other end. Hallway noise behind her. 

I coughed instead of answering. 

"Poor Mattie! Where were you yesterday? You mom was like upset." 

"I was upset, I got lost." Knowing Trish would understand I meant it in the broadest definition possible. 

"Aw Mattie, don't get lost." 

"I'm here now." I coughed again. 

"Well don't be sick for long, or I'll get bored and do stupid things." I heard the bell faintly behind her voice. 

"Don't do stupid things." I said and hung up as she tutted and well-wished on the other end. I sat up, leaned against the wall. Just that simple movement caused my body to flush. Great. A day in bed it was. I loathed being sick. Just sitting there, doing nothing. The longer the afternoon went on, the more I felt like a prehistoric being, sweaty and wrapped up in a blanket, to dull-minded to care. Too dull minded to do anything but stare out the window, watching as the daylight fled, finally just my own reflection in the glass remaining. The only good thing I felt too tired to think. My mind quiet, my thoughts quelled by the fever.

Coming home from work, my mom brought me miso soup and her concerns. I ate the soup and listened to her concerns. The same as yesterday. The same as ever. Should I go back to therapy/should I go back on the meds/should I try one of Susan's yoga classes? I told her again and again that she didn't need to worry, but it was like she didn't listen. She just kept worrying and I kept worrying about her worrying about me and then she worried even worse. I wished we could somehow get out this endless circle of worrying about each other. But it was genetic, blah blah blah. She only left when I'd half-way promised I'd think about therapy, but she still looked almost as troubled as last night. I pulled the blanket over my head, cuddled into the pillows propped up around me. When you're unable to think, sleep comes very easily. And it was the quiet kind. The sleeping pill kind of sleep.

I woke by the click of the door opening, the sound of my mom's voice. "I'll see if he's awake." It wasn't Ade or Trish following after her, it was Allen of course, because he had such a messiah-complex, he had to come visit the sick and beg forgiveness from the unworthy or something like that. My mom quirked her eyebrows in a silent question and I answered with a silent 'yes-whatever-I don't care' nod. Allen awkwardly wavering by the book case until my mom had closed the door behind her, and then he dropped his bag beside his feet. 

"Hi," he started, looking strangely nervous. 

"If you brought homework, you might as well leave," I muttered. The soup had done wonders for my throat, I noticed. 

"No homework." He held out his empty hands and sat down on the edge of the bed.  

"Why are you here then?" I pulled the blanket tighter around me, not entirely comfortable with my prehistoric state now, with someone so squeaky clean beside me. Especially since I was still wearing his now not very clean sweater. 

"I wanted to apologize, I mean, I shouldn't have said what I said..." 

I knew it! Now he was apologizing first, so I would have to think of a grander even nicer apology to get even. Whatever.