The day flew by without any further incidents. She grabbed some lunch after her classes were finished for the day, sitting on the wire bench she saw the mysterious man on just days ago. The feeling of the beginning of autumn rolled through the leaves of the trees, creeping up her skirt. She held a notebook in her hand, a pen lodged behind her ear as she munched on her sandwich. She had written out her encounter this morning in full detail, looking back over previous entries and feeling sickened by the way her handwriting was beginning to slip. It went from a slanted, bubbly sort of font to something akin to chicken scratch. She was tempted to rip up the page she just wrote but held off.
Some other girls ran around the courtyard, instructed by the coach, the same man from the nurse's office with the Calvin-Klein-esque vibe and the shaved head. He watched the girls as they ran, holding a stopwatch in his hand, thumb positioned over the stop button. When the girls made another lap, he hit the button so quickly that it was barely discernable.
"Time!" he called. He looked at his watch, then to the girl at the very front, with her hands on her knees as she inhaled air greedily. "Everheart, seventy seconds. Good job. The rest of you, great work, but I think we can speed it up just a little." He dismissed them with a wave before he caught Temperance's eye. "I'll see you all next week. Don't forget to stretch before you come to practice."
She nodded to him in acknowledgment and averted her eyes, ready to write more. But sure enough, movement caught in her peripheral as he started moving toward her. She sighed and shut her notebook as she readied herself for a conversation, likely about her health. She hated talking about this.
"How are we today?" he asked, standing before her with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Fine," she muttered, staring at the ground, the grass glistening with vitality.
He was quiet for a moment, and she could feel the burning of his orbs on her as he analyzed her deeply. "You are not being babied, you know."
"It feels like I am."
"It is okay to have a moment of weakness. Everyone has them. Even Mircea."
She furrowed her brow, confused. Her gaze left the grass and she finally locked eyes with him. "Mircea?"
"The man who saved you when you nearly fell headfirst down the staircase. Don't tell me you don't remember—"
"I remember him," she snapped without meaning to. She quickly drew back the attitude, before speaking levelly. "I remember him. I just didn't know his name. It wasn't like we stopped to chat and get coffee while I was passing out."
The man nodded thoughtfully. "I think you owe him some thanks."
"I would if I knew where he was. I don't make a habit of searching for strange men."
He smiled at that, his teeth straight and white. "Maybe that's a good thing. He can be as prickly as you."
Temperance bristled. "Hey, I am not—"
He waved her off. "Got to start the next class, but I hope to have you in my gym one of these days, Miss MacKenzie. Sign up with me next semester — look for Daughtry Mahon in the system when you're registering. I have a feeling you'll be a fun one to teach. Butting heads with your students is the only way to teach properly, in my opinion."
Temperance tried to fight it, but ended up cracking a grin as she watched him leave. He seemed fun — and she always got on well with her coaches in the past, albeit being the least athletic person on planet Earth. Connie said it was because she cussed like a sailor and was a loud, confident person.
But then the smile melted from her features as she thought about this objectively. She was never going to have him for a class. As she sat there, her weight diminishing and her face hallowing by the second, there was no more loudness, no more vibrance or vigor. Just a husk.
☽☼☾
She curled herself into bed, having skipped dinner when her stomach began to twist. Her nausea was fast approaching, and she barely had enough sense to run to the small bathroom by the teacher's lounge to vomit up what was undigested of her lunch. She slinked through the crowds on her way to her dorm, the pain not quite there, but nausea made her want to throw herself out a window.
She quickly threw her uniform to the ground, switching to a nightgown that she snagged from Constance's drawer. Switching the lights off, she immediately crashed.
Slumber did not last long. She groaned as she rolled onto her side, her head rolling painfully like a bowling ball replaced her brain. The pain was back — worse than ever before. She whimpered as her eyes fluttered open. She pressed the heel of her palm to her sweaty forehead, trying to stave off the excruciating pain that ate through her tissue and brain matter like a rabid dog.
It crested and fell, rose and crashed, not letting up like it normally did. A particularly painful twinge made her cry out, muffled in time by her pillow.
This is it, she thought. They'll find me in the morning belly-up like a goldfish.
And just as she prepared to die, it receded. Huffing out a breath of relief, she rested her head against the warm pillow, her sweat matting what was left of her hair to her face.
Her body felt like mush, dissolving into the sheets as she tried to gather herself. Slowly — and reluctantly — she sat up, plopping her legs over the side of the bed like they were weighted sandbags.
Pills. I need the pills.
She had to hurry up and get the pain relief pills in her system before she suffered anymore and contemplated alternative means of pain control. Standing, she wobbled over to her still-unpacked bag, tearing up the compartment and pulling clothes free. At this point, she debated whether or not to just down the remaining ones, of which half a bottle remained. Give her a pain-free death. Sure, it would be suicide, but she really did not care. At least she could die with her cognition mostly functioning. The white bottle gleamed in the darkness from between her clothes and Temperance's sense of triumph flourished, snatching up the bottle—
Only to find it empty.
"No," she whispered, horrified. "No, no, no, no!"
She tore through the bag, looking for something — anything. But all she found were clothes and books. Defeated, she slumped to the floor, eyes haunted as she ground her teeth. Where else would she be able to get some pain relief?
The nurse! Maybe she's still there!
She dove over to the dresser, unplugged her phone, and took a look at the time. 2:07 AM. She furrowed her brow, doubtful that the old lady was still at her desk, but maybe there was a night nurse who stayed to make sure there were not any nocturnal problems.
She used the dresser to stand, her legs feeling like Jell-o, but she pursued the door. She grabbed her ID, activated the flashlight on her phone, and set out to find some relief from the cancerous pain that plagued her.
The hallways at night were eerie and made all her hairs stand on edge as she stepped into their domain. Blackness crept along the beam of her flashlight, making it almost impossible to see long distances. But she was determined, and the pain was one hell of a motivator. She bit her lip, closing her door quietly as she made her way through the halls. Thankfully, the big metal doors that guarded each block remained open, allowing students to wander the halls if they needed.
At night, the inkiness seemed to stretch out for eternity, winding passageways seeming simultaneously wider and yet also narrower. She drew her shoulders up around herself unconsciously as she traipsed down the marble flooring. She regretted not grabbing shoes before she fled, as the floor's icy bite nipped at her bare feet. But alas, she was too far gone to meander back.
She reached the main staircase before long, descending as she reached the small door parallel to the front one. She creaked it open softly, peering around with her flashlight. "Hello? Anyone there?"
Within the small space, Student Resources and the nurse's office stood across from one another, their doors clearly labeling who was what. This passageway was not nearly as long of a hallway as the dorms, so Temperance felt the cold sting of disappointment wash over her when she took in the utter darkness. There was no one here — no lights, no silhouettes, nothing.
Cussing to herself in a colorful wheel of Spanish and English, she shut the door gently, spinning on her heel as she readied to go back to bed, likely not to sleep but to writhe in pain.
She was not expecting to come across a pinstriped chest standing before her. She gasped loudly, the phone tumbling from her hands and smashing against the linoleum. The phone landed in such a way that the light beamed up at the ceiling, bouncing off the crystal chandelier, and illuminating the man before her.
Piercing blue eyes, golden skin, black hair. The man from before — Mircea.
"Uh... evening," she blurted out.
He looked down at her curiously. There was no anger in his chiseled features, just interest, and perhaps a touch of amusement. "Evening. May I ask why you are here?" he asked, his voice booming in the dark welcome area.
"I— uh. L-Looking for the nurse."
He furrowed his brows, glancing at the door she had just closed. "You will not find her at this hour. Come, I shall get you what you need."
He strode past her and grabbed a ring of several keys from his black leather belt. He opened the door, flicking on a light switch as he did. He paused, holding open the slab of wood and watching Temperance with a quirked brow. "Well? Are you coming?"
That moved her into action, her jellied legs propelling her forward. She slipped into the doorway under his long arm. The nurse's room at night looked gloomy, even through the frosted glass. She stood in front of the nurse's door as Mircea came over with the correct key and placed it into the lock. The gears bit down on the small plinth of metal and the locks disengaged, allowing entry. Again, he held the door open for her as she made her way inside. She flipped the switch this time, golden light spilling over the sickbeds and the white tiled floors.
The desk was stationed beside the door, while the bays skirted the edges of the room. Against the far back wall were some sunny-yellow cabinets and counters, with a silver minifridge hidden behind one of the curtains, placed inside an empty cabinet that had been deprived of a door.
"What did you need?" He asked, gesturing for her to sit on the nurse's little padded stool. She hesitated, rubbing her arm awkwardly, before obeying. She rolled slightly when she made contact with the seat, but quickly steadied herself.
"Some pain reliever. I, um. I have a really bad headache."
Mircea was in the middle of counting his keys but stopped to eye her. "I see. Have you been drinking enough water? Differences in elevation can prove to be murder on the sinuses. Water helps."
She thought briefly over all the coffee she had consumed that morning. And in between classes. And before bed. Biting her lip, she cast her gaze over elsewhere. "Probably not as much as I should be."
Mircea nodded. "Unfortunately, if you did not register a medicine with the nurse, I cannot help you."
"I figured you would say that. I just wanted to know if I had some options."
Mircea frowned for a moment. Temperance glanced at him when he said nothing, watching as the gears visibly turned in his head. Finally, he spoke, and Temperance found herself suddenly admiring the accent he bore. It was so faint, barely audible beneath his words, in a way she had not noticed before, but she recognized the way he pronounced certain words like how the driver Dmitri did. He must be Romanian.
"Let me at least get you a water," he said. "Wait here."
So she did. With his long legs, he had made it to the back of the room lightning-fast. He opened the mini fridge, concealed slightly behind the yellow curtain as he searched for a bottle of water.
Temperance peered around in the meantime, noticing the placard on the desk reading: SOPHIA DAISY - R.N.
She wondered if Constance would ever think of being a school nurse at a prestigious university like this one. She would be a fantastic nurse, Temperance was positive of that. Constance bore the kindness and humility that one needed when working with anyone, really. A ray of pure sunlight. A child of starlight.
Mircea circled back, his shiny, black shoes clicking against the tile and gleaming like a mirror under the fluorescents. He held it out to her, lid undone and in his palm.
"Drink it all," he instructed.
She sighed and nodded, tipping the drink back. She was perplexed to discover the same smokey, spicey flavor. Almost like charred cinnamon, but sweet and bitter like whiskey.
"Drink," he said. "You will soon feel better."
She downed the bottle surely but slowly, attempting to keep from overloading her stomach with too much water too quickly. She did not want to spew water everywhere in front of this man.
When she got to the very last drop, he held out his hand. "Give it here."
She swallowed what was left in her mouth before turning over the empty bottle. He squeezed the air out and capped it, dumping it into a blue bin with a recycle sign beneath the nurse's desk.
"Now, back to bed. Don't want to be late for class tomorrow."
Her head felt floaty — fuzzy. But she still nodded and stood with complete clarity and rigidity in her shins. He flicked the switch off and killed the lights, holding the door open for her. She glided through, eyes feeling soft and warm.
"Oh, Mircea," she mumbled, stopping short of the second door leading out into the welcome area. She peered over her shoulder at the tall man behind her. "Thank you for helping me last time. I appreciated it more than I led on. Coach Mahon gave me your name; said I'd get on good with you. But, anyways. Thanks."
Mircea looked almost dumbstruck for a moment before his gaze softened and the corners of his mouth lost their edge. "You're welcome, Temperance."