It was one of those days. The kind where you wake up alone and of course you don't feel good. Clara knew that she was sick because she chased down her drunk boyfriend. She had class at 11:00. Well, at the very least all her work was done from last class and midterms had passed. Finals were soon—in about two weeks—but she was actually prepared this time. Prepared was pushing it, but she was better off than she was last quarter.
It didn't matter, though. She had to go to class. If she missed then she'd be right back where she was in the fall. She couldn't afford to flunk like last semester. If she continued to fail then she would be forced out of university.
Clara sat up and felt like she had just finished spinning. Maybe she was teleported to a boat. She could feel dinner rushing up to her mouth so she bolted to the bathroom. She almost made it. Unfortunately, dinner ended up in the sink and little bit got on the floor. She was mortified. Of course she had to vomit all over his tile. Of course she had to wake up sick. It all felt like a sick prank.
After scrubbing the floor and trying to disinfect the sink Clara felt like crying. She felt filthy. Her skin was sticky with sweat and her mouth reeked of vomit.
Elijah found her shortly. There she was, in a fetal position on the floor crying.
"What happened baby?" He utilized his gentlest voice and approached her slowly. He was unsure if she wanted space because of last night. He didn't get to hesitate for long because she was in his lap in seconds.
"I vomited on the floor and in the sink! An—And I have class and I-I don't feel good!" She bursted through her sobs. Her tears soaked his shirt, but he didn't care about anything but her in the moment.
He cradled her body like a child and examined her face. It was lacking that prominent blush. Her eyes were all swollen. And her forehead was on fire. He felt terrible because he was certainly the cause for her illness. Making her walk in the freezing night and on top of that making her body exert a ton of energy to help carry him home.
"Hey, it's okay. Shh shh. It's okay. You have a fever, baby. I can't let you go to class like this. We can solve that problem later. We need to take care of you right now, okay?"
He ran his palms up and down her spine at a calming rhythm. He breathed deep and slow breaths. She began to settle into his body and her sobs became little sniffles. When she was relaxed, he carried her over to the sink and brushed her teeth. With a little kiss to her lips her picked her up and took her to bed. She made herself comfortable quickly and Elijah enjoyed the view of his woman snuggled up in their sheets. Even if the circumstances weren't optimal.
Elijah checked his medicine cabinets and —of course— he didn't have any Tylenol or cold medicine. He went to tell Clara he was going to the drug store, but she was already asleep. So, he put on his shoes and winter coat and began his walk to the drug store. It was a freezing morning. The sun hung low in the sky but that didn't stop it from shining. Elijah was hungover and the brightness of the morning was not going to let him forget that. He knew he deserved it. After all, he was the reason Clara was sick and he was the reason for his hangover. What made him feel worse was knowing there was no justification for his drinking. The meeting was fine and working on the weekend was not something new to him.
When Elijah entered the drugstore, he welcomed the heat happily. It was a quiet morning. Some people were wandering the isles. Some were waiting in line to pick up their prescriptions. He felt extremely out of place. He was still in his pajamas while everyone else was bedecked in business attire. It was new for him to be the one underdressed and he decided quickly that he did not like it.
Finding Tylenol and cold flu was a challenge. He had never really been inside any drug store. Growing up, when he got sick he was told to suck it up. When he did have fevers, his nanny took care of him. And since he moved out he hadn't been sick enough to need Tylenol. It was extremely embarrassing to wander from aisle to aisle looking for the drug. All the while the weight that his baby was at home sick kept increasing until it felt like the world was closing in on him. By the time he checked out, his back was drenched in sweat and he could feel sweat rolling down the sides of his face.
The walk home may as well have been a marathon. The streets were busy since it was rush hour and he was trying his best to weave through the sea of people without bumping into anyone. This was a massive failure and he heard more curse words in the ten minutes he was walking than he'd heard in the last two months. Walking up the stairs to his front door felt like a miracle. Finally, the embarrassment was over. Now he could make up his bad decision last night by nursing his woman back to life.
Clara was still asleep, but he woke her up by taking her temperature. The numbers were high enough to make him cringe. Guilt just continued to rain down on him.
"I'm so sorry baby," he whispered kissing her sweaty forehead. Her eyes were closed, but the sensation of his cool lips on her forehead made her smile. Elijah handed her some Tylenol and water. She eagerly gulped down the water bottle and quickly demanded more by shoving the empty bottle into his chest with a cute little whine. He was quick to return with two more chilled bottles. He propped her up and turned on her favorite TV show. She was spoon fed some chicken noodle soup and was quick to pass out shortly after.
With her resting with a full tummy and Tylenol, he got to handling the issue of school. He sat beside her and drank a cup of coffee and opened her laptop. Her laptop came roaring to life. He typed in the password and was greeted by a messy background. Files upon files covered the screen. It was a cluttered — disorganized — mess. Elijah frowned at the messy background, but decided that he wasn't here to help her laptop run smoother. He was here to get her notes for her class and log off. So he opened chrome. He was, again, greeted by a million opened tabs. He was surprised by the fact that they all catered to cooking. Each tab was a recipe pertaining to a different type of cuisine. And he was shocked at the sheer complexity of the dishes. They were culinary chef level. They were certainly not something a college girl like herself would be interested in whipping up. Unless they wanted to be a chef.
Elijah paused his mouse over the plus button. They had talked about their dreams. Nowhere in any of Clara's dreams was cooking. She never talked about it. But it made sense. So much sense. The delicious dishes. Her insistence on cooking him meals. Her enthusiasm when he bought better kitchen equipment for her. The way she lit up when he mentioned how good her cooking was. The way she always took her time while eating. As if she was analyzing the flavor. It made perfect sense that cooking would be something she was passionate about.
He felt like an idiot. How could he not recognize her fondness? How could he be so naive to something she was so passionate about? He was her partner. He was supposed to notice every single little detail about her. He was supposed to take care of her. And he failed to notice that she loved cooking?!
Elijah couldn't understand why she was studying journalism. She hated reading. And writing? Every time she wrote a paper all it did was cause her massive amounts of anxiety and dread. She was dispassionate and completely disinterested in anything related to her studies. Whenever he asked how school was going, she changed topics. She never talked about school.
Elijah couldn't wrap his head around it all. Why is she doing this to herself? She's wasting her time. She's wasting her money. She wasting her health over something she doesn't love.
But Elijah knew better. He knew better than to be so naive. He knew why she was doing this. Because someone else was pulling the strings. She wasn't in college because she wanted to be. She was in college because she had to be. Someone had destroyed her dreams of cooking and convinced her that journalism was her future. Elijah knew that Clara was stronger than most. It wasn't someone she didn't know or respect. It was someone she loved. Someone she cared for deeply. Someone whose judgement she trusted more than her own.
He needed to know who was controlling her. More than anything else. He knew that finding out who was telling her how much she was worth would be key to helping support her in chasing a real interest of hers — cooking or not. He didn't care, but he didn't want her falling down the same path he did. He knew how this story would end because he listened to his father. He followed in his family's footsteps. And look at him. He wasn't happy. He drank at work. He got so wasted that he couldn't hardly walk straight. He didn't like his job. He only did it because he felt it was too late to chase his dreams. That his job was cushy enough to pay the bills and provide financial comfort.
No, he decided, he would not allow her to follow down that same path.
A/n
Writing this was a pain not gonna lie. Buckle up bitches.
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The Older Man
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