Examine

twenty

ASHLEY

Michael is right. There is definitely something wrong with me.

I lurch out of his arms in a mad dash to the bathroom to heave my guts up. I make it to the toilet, gripping the sides as I empty the contents of my stomach.

The tiles are uncompromising beneath my knees. But I actually like their coolness, I’m too hot.

“I think you have gastroenteritis,” Michael says, as he crouches beside me. He reaches out to smooth a hand over my sweaty forehead. “And a fever.”

I knock his hand away as I hover back over the toilet to continue puking.

When I raise my head after having a bit of respite from vomiting, he’s there with a glass of water, an electrolyte he must have found in my freezer and some ice.

“Just covering all bases,” he says as I glance over it. “I don’t want you to become dehydrated.”

I nod and reach for the water, first swilling a mouthful and then spitting it back into the toilet before taking a shallow sip. I know that whatever I drink will probably come back up, but it’s just important that I keep my fluids up; the last thing I want is to end up in the hospital on a drip.

“Have you had your period recently?” Michael asks.

I flash him an affronted look. “Yes. And I haven’t had sex in months, so no, I’m not pregnant.”

Michael opens the electrolyte before handing it to me. “Well, morning sickness isn’t restricted to the morning, so I just wanted to rule that option out.”

“I think your initial diagnosis is correct. Gastro.” I frown in thought.

“Food?” Michael asks, already guessing the direction of my thoughts.

“No,” my eyes raise to look at his. “I think it’s viral.”

My abdomen clenches and I wince in pain. “I guess that rules out working tomorrow, but if you go now you can probably still work.”

Michael sits down beside me. Since we regularly deal with bodily fluids at work, he looks non-pulsed by the sight of my vomit in the toilet bowl. He doesn’t even viscerally react to the smell; his attention is solely focused on me. “No, I need to know you’re okay.”

I suck on the electrolyte and am rewarded with a refreshing burst of raspberry flavour. “Gastro is rarely ever life-threatening.”

“I know, but please, let me look after you.”

I can’t even answer as my head is back in the toilet bowl.

When I meet his gaze again, all I can do is murmur, “As you wish.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth upturns at that, and I fall that little bit more in love with him at the acknowledgement that he knows what I'm quoting.

Michael accompanies me throughout the night and the early hours of the morning, feeding me a steady stream of ice and electrolytes.

I’m in my underwear and bra now.

The fever had me trembling in cold one moment, shivering under several blankets and my warmest doona, then boiling the next. Sweating through all my clothes until I begged Michael to help take them off.

He didn’t question my request exactly, he had asked, “Would you prefer me to leave if you're getting undressed?”

“No.” I had shaken my head fiercely. “I don't care. There's no modesty when I'm sweating through my clothes and you've heard and seen a waterfall of vomit exiting my body.”