All That Matters ❁ Benny Rodriguez

36

Friday, August 14, 2015

Sunlight spilled through my windows, and I woke with an aching pain in my forehead. As soon as I opened my eyes, I felt like I was going to throw up. But I didn't move, because Benny's head was rested in the crook of my neck, his arm thrown over my stomach.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the pain didn't go away. I rubbed at my forehead and above my eyes, but the pain never ceased, and I felt absolutely miserable. Taking deep, slow breaths, I attempted to fall back asleep, but the migraine prevented that.

Suddenly, I felt something rising from my abdomen to my chest, to my neck, and toward my throat. Without hesitation, I jumped up and ran to the bathroom as quickly as possible. As soon as I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, the vomit burst from my throat.

All my life, I had feared throwing up. I hated how the vomit forced its way out, and I couldn't find a breath. I hated the way I became weak, and the vile taste left behind.

Suddenly, my hair was lifted from my face before anything could get on it. I wanted to see who came, but the vomit prevented that too. But then I heard his voice as he rubbed my back soothingly.

"It's okay," Benny whispered. "Let it all out. It'll be over soon."

Somehow, he seemed to have detected my feelings. I felt grateful, but at the same time, embarrassed. I didn't want Benny to see me like this. . . .

Finally, the vomiting stopped. I spat in the toilet, flushed it and stood up. Benny continued to rub my back as I made way towards the sink.

"I'm okay," I breathed.

But that was a lie. I thought that the migraine would have been gone after the vomit, because years before, that was what happened. But my splitting headache didn't go away, and I still felt sick to my stomach.

I rinsed my mouth out, but every time I inhaled through my burning nose, the taste was still there. As I looked up in the mirror, I saw Benny's worried face staring back at my pale one. 

"How do you feel?" he asked softly, still rubbing circles in my back.

"Shitty," I answered, pressing my wet hand to my forehead. "Like, really shitty."

"Let me feel."

Benny pressed his warm, folded hand to the side of my neck, then to my cheek and, finally, to my forehead. He pursed his lips, while staring at my forehead.

"You're burning up," he muttered. "You get back in bed. I'll go get you something."

So Benny led me back to my bedroom and helped me onto the bed. I was thankful for that, because I felt so weak, I wasn't sure whether I could have made it back by myself.

Benny kissed my hot forehead, and without another word, he exited the room. A couple minutes later, the door opened, but Luke was the one who stepped inside, a glass of water in his hand. His hair was messy, like he just woke up, but he seemed wide awake.

"Take these," he said, helping me sit up. He opened his other hand, revealing a few pills — Ibuprofen. As I swallowed them with the water, Luke stared at me. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit," I grumbled, giving him the water back. "I don't think I can drink the rest of that. Where's Benny?"

"Downstairs," he answered. "I'm not really sure what he's doing, but he woke me up. Told me to bring you the medicine."

"Oh, okay," I mumbled. I barely even felt like talking. "Well . . . what about you and Skylar? Have you two talked yet?"

Luke shook his head, his expression visibly saddening. "No. It is kind of early, though. She's probably still asleep. I have to go to work soon."