Love At First Night

7.

I BLAME STRESS for the fact that I
wake up on Friday morning drenched
in sweat and completely incapable of
breathing through my nose.

I've had my flu shot. I'm up to date on
all my vaccines. And I never get sick-
not even freshman year when a nasty
strain of strep swept through our
dorm. So I shower, even though there
are black spots in my vision when I
move my head too quickly, and I put
on jeans, even though my bones ache
and I want nothing more than to curl
up in sweatpants, and I force myself
to sit at my laptop reading a PDF
essay on feminist literature while my
temples throb and my eyes burn.

I'm in Denial City, population me.

It isn't until my trashcan is full of
tissues and my head feels like it's
splitting open that I finally admit to
myself that there's no way I can make
it to any of my afternoon classes,
much less my night shift at the
library. I text Joy and Jennie, shoot
Margie an apologetic email, and then
turn to the student portal to find a
replacement. Within minutes, a girl
offers to cover for me if I'll take her
Wednesday morning shift. Nobody
else is about to sacrifice their Friday
night for a sick girl, so I have no
choice but to agree to the switch.

I chuck off my jeans -horrible,
uncomfortable, cursed denim- and
pull on the sweatpants I've been
dreaming of, then drag my traitorous
corporeal form into bed.

My head feels like it's full of helium.
My throat's so raw it's like I've
gargled rocks.

"But you were fine last night,"
Joy says from the doorway as she
tosses me bottles of Gatorade like a
zookeeper lobbing fish to a sea lion.
"I know you said you had a headache,
but I didn't expect you'd be, like, on
your fucking deathbed today."

"Neither did I," I croak. "Oh, God.
Can you overdose on Advil? Is that a
thing?"

"Im making you chicken noodle
soup!" Jennie shouts from the
kitchenette.

Both of them insist on staying home
with me for the night, even though
I know the new going-out shirt Jennie
ordered from Nasty Gal arrived this
week and she's dying to give it a test
run. I prop myself up in bed and
watch as they rearrange furniture
in the living room so I can see the TV
through my open doorway.

"It's not too late for you to ditch me," I
call.

"Shut up," Joy says. "What do you
want to watch?"

"You guys should pick. I'm probably
gonna fall asleep thirty minutes in."

Joy puts on Pride and Prejudice,
which she knows is my all-time
favorite and I know she can't stand.
I'm about to thank her when she says,
"Im only watching this sappy white
people shit for you, Park. As soon
as you pass out, we're putting on
something else."

"This movie is a masterpiece," Jennie
mutters.

"How the fuck am I friends with you
guys?" Joy asks.

Because we love each other. The
thought brings tears to my eyes. I
don't know how I got so lucky with
these two dorks. I don't know how
I found two people who could still
want to spend time with me when
I'm at my absolute worst. And as I
watch Matthew Macfadyen's Darcy
put his foot in his mouth and realize
I'm daydreaming of Lisa Manoban's
brown eyes, I realize that Ive been
keeping a secret from the two people
who I most want to confide in.

"I have to tell you guys something,"
I call out, "but you're not allowed to
make fun of me."

"Oh, God, are you going to throw up?"

"No. No, it's just-it's sort of
embarrassing."

Joy's head pokes around my
doorframe. "How embarrassing, on
a scale of me sleeping through my
sociology final to Jennie getting kicked
out of the art club's Bob Ross party?"