I woke and stared into the darkness. The alarm clock was on the wrong side of the bed. I'm at Lisa's. Another glance at the alarm clock showed that it was just after three. What had awakened me in the middle of the night? Had Lisa called for me?
I felt wide-awake now and knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep before I checked on Lisa. Sighing, I threw back the covers and walked to the door, then opened it and peered across the hallway.
A sliver of light fell through the bedroom door that I had left open slightly.
Not taking the time to get dressed, I crossed the hallway and listened.
Bed springs creaked. Lisa sneezed and blew her nose.
I hesitated. When I glanced down, I realized that I wasn't fully dressed. With one hand already raised to push open the door, I tugged on the T-shirt with the other hand.
Get over yourself. She's sick. And she wouldn't ogle you, even if she were up to it. That constant flirting is just her type of humor.
Shaking my head, I opened the door farther and peeked inside. "Lisa?" I whispered. "Everything okay?"
"I'm sick," she said, her voice nasal and childlike. In the light of the lamp on the bedside table, sweat gleamed on her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed.
Damn. I thought the medicine and some sleep would help. If anything, she looked worse than she had a few hours before. Even though I told myself that it was just a cold and Lisa would be fine, I couldn't help worrying.
I stepped into the bedroom and closed the door to deter Lego from rushing in and disturbing Lisa's rest. A few crumpled tissues were strewn around the bed, and on my way over to her, I picked them up and threw them onto the heap of tissues already in the trash.
For a few moments, I stood looking at Lisa. I hadn't taken care of a sick person in years and never someone who was basically still a stranger. It felt weird to be in Lisa's bedroom in the middle of the night.
Oh, come on. She has already seen your bedroom. Hazily, I remembered Lisa putting me to bed after I had drunk too much. I gave myself a mental push and perched on the edge of the bed, leaving a respectable distance between her and me.
Lisa watched me with drooping eyes.
Hesitantly, I lifted my hand and laid it on Lisa's forehead, then touched her cheek. The heat radiating from Lisa's skin worried me. "God, Lisa, you're burning up! Do you have a thermometer?"
"Hmm?" she sniffled and glanced at me through watery eyes.
"A thermometer," I asked again. "Do you have one?"
She blew her nose. "Yes," she mumbled from behind the tissue.
If she hadn't been so sick, it would have been amusing.
"Good. Where is it?" I asked.
"Hmm?"
"Your thermometer—where is it?"
Lisa blinked as if she needed time to process my question.
"Bathroom," she said after a few seconds.
I got up and straightened the covers, making sure Lisa stayed warm. I stepped around the bed and entered the bathroom.
When the light flickered on, I took in the white tiles and a bathtub that looked large enough for two. Instantly, an image of Lisa in the tub with Nikki swept through my mind. I shook my head to chase away the mental picture and glared at myself in the mirror above the sink. Stop thinking about it. What she does or doesn't do with Nikki is none of your business.
I slid open the mirrored front of the white bathroom cabinet. While I rooted through bottles of medicine, I felt like a snoop. Going through Lisa's bathroom cabinet seemed like a very private thing.
I pushed a box of tampons to the left and peeked past a tube of hand lotion. Between a pair of nail clippers and a toothbrush still in its plastic packaging, I finally found the thermometer.
I ran it under water. As an afterthought, I took a washcloth from an open shelf next to the bathtub and wet it. Maybe a cool compress would help make her more comfortable.
When I returned to the bedroom, I half expected Lisa to be asleep, but instead, her eyes were open and watched me as I settled down on the edge of the bed. Lisa looked up at me with the trusting gaze of a sick person waiting for the miracle healer.
I squared my shoulders. She trusts you. Now help her.
"We need to take your temperature."
Lisa licked her cracked lips and continued to look at me through glassy eyes. Instead of taking the thermometer from me, she opened her mouth. There were places that would give her a more accurate reading of Lisa's body temperature, but I didn't want to even think about it. This would have to do. I turned on the thermometer, placed it beneath het tongue, and nudged her chin to get her to close her mouth. When the thermometer was safely in place, I put the cool compress on Lisa's forehead.
"Feels nice," she mumbled around the thermometer.
For a moment, I thought Lisa meant the washcloth on her forehead, but then I realized that I was combing my fingers through the damp curls on Lisa's temple. I stilled my fingers, stared at them, and withdrew my hand. Since when am I the touchy-feely type?
The thermometer beeped.
I slid it out of Lisa's mouth and glanced at the display. "103.8." I frowned. "Jesus, Lisa, that's really high." I needed to do something to bring her fever down.
Once she had read a book in which a character had been put into a tub full of cold water to cool down. I couldn't safely maneuver Lisa in and out of a tub, though, and undressing her was way out of my comfort zone. One glance at the alarm clock showed that it had been at least six hours since Lisa had taken the last dose of pain relievers.
"Let's try more Tylenol. If that doesn't bring your fever down, I'm taking you to a doctor."
I opened the package of Tylenol and slid the water glass within easier reach. "Can you sit up a bit?"
When Lisa struggled to lift her upper body, I slid one arm around her shoulders.
Instead of sitting up, Lisa wrapped her arms around me too and nestled close. Her breath fanned over my collarbone, making me shiver. Through the thin cotton of the borrowed T-shirt, Lisa's face pressed against my breasts. My temperature skyrocketed until my cheeks felt warmer than Lisa's.
"Um, Lisa ..." my breathing picked up while I felt Lisa's slow down.
Lisa snuggled closer. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes brushing my collarbone like the wings of a butterfly.
Lisa murmured, "Feels so good."
Part of me agreed. Lisa's warm, pliant body against mine did feel good. But a bigger part didn't want to think about why Lisa's embrace felt so surprisingly good even though I had never been one for snuggling. I needed some distance, so I sought refuge in the role of a nurse going about my duties with detached professionalism.
"Don't fall asleep like this," I said. "We need to get some Tylenol and water into you. Can you sit up?"
For a few seconds, she didn't move, making me fear she had fallen asleep snuggled in our embrace. Then Lisa dropped her arms from around me and groaned as she let her head fall onto the pillow.
I shivered, missing Lisa's warmth.
What's going on with me? I stared at Lisa and tried to make sense of my confusing feelings. Maybe I do have some maternal instincts after all, and that's why I want to hold her close and comfort her.
But the sensations I felt when Lisa had wrapped her arms around me hadn't been maternal at all.
Lisa groaned again.
I returned my attention to my patient. Now is not the time to deal with this. You need to bring her fever down, so get on with it.
With Lisa helping as much as she could, I managed to get her propped up against the headboard.
I handed her the Tylenol and, steadying her with one hand, held the glass to her lips until she had swallowed the pills.
Lisa sat with her head lolling back against the headboard. Her eyes were closed as if just sitting up and swallowing had exhausted her. A drop of water clung to her bottom lip, and I dabbed at Lisa's mouth with a tissue. I fought the urge to run my fingers through her hair again.
The thought shocked me. Where was this sudden need to touch Lisa coming from? I took a deep breath.
"Want to lie back down?"
With her eyes still closed, she nodded.
After helping Lisa slide down and settle back against the pillow, I tugged the covers around her.
"I'll take your temperature again in an hour to see if the Tylenol helped."
She didn't answer.
When I glanced down, I realized that she had fallen asleep.
I blew out a breath and pulled an armchair next to the bed so I could watch over her while she slept.
After half an hour, Lisa's flushed face started to blur before my burning eyes. My jaw muscles strained as I struggled to suppress a yawn. I rubbed my face to chase away the tiredness, propped my head on one hand, and continued to watch Lisa.
When my head fell forward, I got up, lifted the now warm washcloth from Lisa's forehead, and rinsed it with cold water in the bathroom. While standing in front of the sink, I took a moment to splash water on my face and neck to refresh myself.
Lisa mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep but didn't wake when I replaced the cool washcloth.
I yawned again. I would take her temperature again in thirty minutes. Maybe reading for a while would help keep me awake. I hesitated in front of Lisa's bookshelf and then pulled out what looked like a murder mystery, my preferred genre. But tonight, I wasn't in the mood for blood and gore. Seeing Lisa suffer was bad enough, so she put the mystery novel back.
I trailed my fingers over the book spines and glanced over my shoulder to make sure Lisa was still sleeping peacefully. My hand lingered above one of the books on the romance shelf before I randomly picked one. The cover showed the silhouettes of two women walking hand in hand along a beach.
Since when are you interested in reading romances? And lesbian romances at that.
A throaty moan from the bed interrupted my thoughts.
I jerked and quickly put the book back on the shelf. I hurried to the bed, where I found Lisa tossing and turning, struggling to free herself from the covers.
"Ssssh. Lie still." I rested my hand on Lisa's hand, which lay on top of the blanket, and stroked the back of her hand with my thumb. My other hand brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Everything's fine."
Lisa's eyes flickered open. She looked at me, closed her eyes again, and fell into a more peaceful sleep.
I stood frozen next to the bed, my hand still on Lisa's. With my free hand, I dragged the armchair even closer to the bed and settled back down. My thumb brushed over the soft skin of Lisa's hand, soothing my patient-and myself. I blinked and fought against letting the rhythmic stroking lull me to sleep. From time to time, I glanced at the alarm clock. When the time came to check Lisa's temperature, I stood above her with the thermometer in hand. I reached out to wake her—and then decided against it.
No. Sleep would be the best medicine. Lightly, I touched my hand to Lisa's forehead, trying to gauge her temperature without waking her.
With her eyes closed, she turned her head and pressed her cheek against my palm.
Good.
I blew out a breath. She's still warm, but I think the fever went down a bit. I settled back into the chair and, after a moment, laid my hand on Lisa's again. In a little while, I would change the compress.
If Lisa woke, I would try to get her to drink more water or some soup. But now, just for a moment, I would rest my tired eyes.