July 21, 1993
Seattle, Washington
I hurl into the toilet. No one is here to help me, so I have to hold back my own hair. My throat burns as I continue to throw up.
I rarely get sick, so I have no idea why this is happening now. When I do get sick, I don't really throw up. The last time I threw up, I must've been really young.
I start choking as this happens. Throwing up has always been really scary for me. My father used to yell at me to "shut the fuck up" whenever I was throwing up because I would be too loud.
"Hey, hey," I hear someone's voice behind me. My hair gets lifted out of my grasp and a comforting hand rubs my back softly.
I grip the edges of the toilet and throw up for the last time, then quickly shut the toilet lid and take a deep breath, as I was not able to breathe for the entirety of that time. I flush the toilet and back away from the toilet, breathing heavily.
I stand up and my hair falls against my back. I lean into the sink, turn the water on, and scrub any of the remnants off of my face.
"K," Someone says behind me. I whip my head around and see Kurt standing there looking so confused. "Why were you throwing up?"
I shrug my shoulders, feeling so drained. "I don't know. I just feel like shit."
"Are you sick? You seemed fine last night."
"I don't know," I wipe my forehead. "I need to go lay down or I'm going to pass out." I go into the bedroom and lay down, draping the blankets over my body. I feel so hot, but my body is cold, so I have to wear the blankets.
"Look who it is!" Kurt says in a high-pitched voice and walks through the door holding Frances.
My eyebrows furrow. "I didn't even hear the doorbell."
"That's because Courtney knocked," He explains and sits down on the floor with Frances.
Frances is almost a year old and she's so adorable. You can definitely see features from both Kurt and Courtney in her. She has Kurt's eyes, but Courtney's face shape. Her mouth is a mixture of both of them.
She babbles a lot, but hasn't said any words yet. She walks a lot, though. She likes to get into things, too.
Kurt brought up buying a house together a couple days ago that us three can live in. I want to, but I don't know how I'd be able to pay for that, considering that I got fired from my job. Kurt said that he would pay for the whole thing, but that feels wrong. It's my house, too, so I should pay for it as well.
I cough, which burns my throat. I groan and bury myself further in my blanket. "Hi, Frances."
She giggles and runs up to me, stroking the only part of my forearm that's visible. Kurt leaves the room which makes me nervous because I'm obviously sick, and I don't want to get her sick.
I pull the blanket over my face and continue to cough underneath there. She starts slapping the blanket and I feel so bad.
"E-A-Boo?" She asks.
That's what she calls Peek-A-Boo. It's her favorite game. Every single time she comes over, that's all that we play. I don't understand how babies enjoy that game so much. It seems so pointless, but because Frances is so cute, I'll make that exception for her.
Frances makes me want to have a baby of my own with Kurt. I've always wanted to have kids. The only problem is that I'm scared I'll turn out like my father and take my anger out on them. Even though I know I'm a different person, the thought entertains the back of my head quite frequently. That's the only thing preventing me.
"Kaitlyn, pull the covers down," Kurt says. I pull the cover down and he pulls my hair out of my face and runs a thermometer across my forehead. I wince as the cold metal grazes my skin. "Holy shit, Kaitlyn."
"What?" I ask as he stares at the thermometer.
"You have a fever of 101," He pulls the blanket off of my body, but I groan.
"No,"I pull them back up. "I am so cold."
He sighs. "K, you're running a fever. You can't have the covers on you."
I cough. "Kurt, I am cold."
He goes into the hallway and opens up the closet, then returns with a sheet. He drapes is over me. "There you go."
"This isn't enough," I tell him. "I'm still so cold."
"Just wait a little, okay? We'll wait until your fever goes down and then I'll give you a blanket. I'm going to let you rest."
As he leaves, I ask him, "How do you know that I won't use the blankets while you're gone?"
"Well, I'm trusting you," He says and picks up Frances. "Don't use the blankets, Kaitlyn."
I reach over and act like I'm going to grab it while smirking, but he's obviously not having it. "I'm sorry."
He smiles that beautiful smile of his. "Get some rest, okay?"
"Okay, I guess so," I roll my eyes.
-----------------------------------------------
"My stomach hurts so bad," I tell Kurt as we return from the bathroom. "I hate throwing up."
"I know, I know," He drapes the sheet over me and tucks it into my sides. "Are you feeling a little better?"
I give him a hard stare. "I just threw up my guts in there. No I am not okay."
Just then, Frances comes in wailing and screaming, holding her fingers. Kurt immediately turns around and kneels on the ground. "What's wrong, Frances?"
I plug my ears as her screams pierce them. I pull the sheet over my head and turn to the side, away from her.
The screams grow quieter, so I look up and they're no longer in the room. Kurt comes back a little while after and explains that her fingers got caught in the door.
"Ouch," I reply.
He stands to the side of me and sighs. "Are you okay?"
I shake my head. "But don't get too close to me, I don't want you getting sick because then no one would be able to take care of Frances."
"I wish I could just make you feel better," He smiles. "You know, normally it's me being sick and you helping me."
"Yeah, now you know how exhausting it is," I playfully roll my eyes and turn the other way to couch.
Kurt's stomach hasn't been upsetting him recently, but every once in a while, it does and I help him. He gets really snappy and mean when he's in pain or angry, so it's like walking on eggshells when he's sick. But I enjoy helping him; it makes me feel better about myself.
He kneels down and his eyes meet mine. "God, Kaitlyn, you are so beautiful."
I look at him in disgust. "I'm far from it. I literally look and feel like shit right now. I'm sick, Kurt!"
He chuckles and then leans in to kiss my forehead. He grabs a bunch of pillows and blankets, then makes a bed on the floor next to me.
"What are you doing?" I peer over the edge of the bed and ask him."
"Frances is taking a nap, so I'm going to stay in here with you for a little."
I lay on my back and shut my eyes, my eyes stinging for some reason. "I love you, Kurt."