One thing I truly hate is calling in sick. Of course, I also hate being sick, but I hate having to explain that I'm not coming to work as if I'm not taking my work seriously, which I am. But I also don't want want to disappoint by only being able to do the job half-heartedly which would happen if I were to show up without feeling my best. I've already taken two aspirins in an attempt of killing my fever and headache, but so far it's not doing much. So I call Harry with an increased heartbeat and sweaty palms. But Harry's sweet as always, and very understanding. He even asks me if I need anything and reminds me to keep warm and drink loads of water.
"You sure you don't need me to send someone? A doctor perhaps?"
"I'm positive, Harry. You just take care of your job, and I'll try to take care of myself so I can come to work tomorrow," I say, and a cough slips my mouth. It may be more than 30 degrees outside yet somehow I still manage catching the flu. Why does this always happen to me?
"You can just take the rest of the week off," he offers. Yet it's an offer I can't accept.
"It's Wednesday."
"I'm aware. But I want you to take care of yourself. I can manage without you for a little while, just as long as you promise to be back on Monday."
"I promise. That is if I haven't caught a pneumonia by then," I say trying to chuckle, but laughing hurts as my stomach is aching and my throat sore.
"Not the time to be sassy, miss Davis," Harry says and if I didn't know better I'd be scolding him for calling me that. But I can hear it in his voice that he's not mad. More likely he's trying to lighten my mood which is working. And I was worried for this conversation why? With a boss like Harry, there's nothing to worry about.
"Sorry, boss,' I say with a smile playing on my lips. Why is talking to him so effortlessly?
"I'm sorry, Leah. I gotta go. Please take care of yourself. I hope you get well soon. Don't be afraid to call if there's anything you need."
"Thanks Harry," I say, and then the line goes dead, and I hide underneath the blanket on my couch feeling sorry for myself. At times like these, I wish I was younger and still living with my parents so someone would be taking care of me, instead of me having to take care of myself. But that's what it's like to be grown up, although I must admit I don't feel much older than when I was nineteen. However, if I need him, I'm aware that Harry will be here for me. All it takes is a phone call, but I think we are both aware there is no way I'm going to make that call. I'd very much like for him to be here, but that's a thought I can't hold onto because if I do, I think I'll lose my mind. And I don't need him to be here. I shouldn't create a false reality where Harry is more than just my boss, because if I do I'm very much aware of the outcome. I'll end up hurt just like last time I let a man be part of my life.
With a sigh I turn on the TV. I can't let him into my life like that I remind myself. If only there was more men like Harry apart from the fact that he's flirting with someone else while he's in a relationship. Perhaps that's just how men are?
The entire day is spent watching television, snacking on different foods that I don't find particularly interesting, and sleeping. Not the best way to spend the time, but I'm trying to relax although there's laundry to do, and I should be vacuuming. Tomorrow is another day.
I hear a buzz and for a moment I think it's my phone before I realise someone's at the door. Probably just the mailman although the time is rather odd, but I let whoever it is into the building. I readjust the bun on my head and that's when I hear a knock on my door. Who the hell is this? I wonder as I make my way over to the door. I look like shit. My hair looks greasy, I have dark bags underneath my eyes and my breath is terrible. Please just be Maddie or a delivery guy. But as I stare through the peep hole I see the one person I didn't expect. "Fuck."
I take a deep breath and open the door wanting to curse myself for not wearing a bra underneath my white t-shirt. My sweatpants aren't any flattering either. Why? God why?
"Harry?" I say short breathed very surprised not to mention confused that he's here. I notice he has changed his clothes from work. Never before have I seen him in a pair of black jeans or any jeans for that matter, and the t-shirt he's wearing is definitely more appealing on him than his dress shirts. This attire leaves less to the imagination, and I must admit I'm positively surprised.
"Hi," he says biting his bottom lips. "I felt bad knowing you were sick. Over the phone you sounded hoarse, so I figured you probably had a sore throat. Thought you could use some soup?" He says showing me a bag in his hand.
Although a moment ago I was very self-conscious his gesture is just too sweet for me to care about my appearance. I'm sick after all. I'm not trying to impress anyone. "Thank you, but you really didn't have to. Come in."
"I know, but I wanted to," he says as I close the door behind him.
"I appreciate that," I confess.
"Where can I heat this?" He asks, and I show him to the kitchen and find a pot.
"You're a life saviour," I say jumping up on the kitchen bench as he turns on the stove. "I haven't been eating much today. I don't have any food worth eating."
"Then it's a good thing I brought you all kinds of stuff." He says handing me a bag of fruits and sweets that I failed to notice earlier.
"Cadbury chocolate? And Lindt? How'd you know I like these?"
"Lucky shot. Figured you probably hadn't eaten much today which often happens when someone's sick. But in case you had any type of cravings I wanted to come prepared."
"Have I told you, you're the best?" I ask as he pours the soup into the pot. He doesn't say anything, but gives me a smile, one that warms my heart and for a moment I forget that I'm not feeling my best today. But it only lasts a moment because soon enough I start coughing and my stomach starts cramping.
"You alright?" Harry asks, and I try to give him a nod although my coughing won't stop. He searches the cupboards, finds a glass and pours it with water from the tap before he hands it over to me.
"Perhaps, I should finish this, and you should go relax on your sofa. It'll only take a minute," he suggests while I drink the water and my cough dies down, for now.
"Thank you," I say. "Bowls are in there," I say pointing to a cupboard next to the fridge.
"I got it. I'll find whatever I need, you just go and relax," he says and although this seems wrong on some level, it's also nice having him here. Maddie or anyone else have never shown up like this. People don't ever show up unannounced, and even if I asked Maddie to stop by I don't think she would bring food unless I told her to even if I was sick. Not that she doesn't care, it just wouldn't cross her mind.
I get comfortable on the couch once again, place the bag of sweets next to me and change the channel. I had totally forgotten about the TV as I made my way to the door to greet Harry. There's nothing interesting to watch and as Harry makes his way over I turn on Netflix to watch Friends. That's one show that never grows too old.
Harry hands me a bowl of soup and places my glass of water on the couch table. "Do you need me to get a tray for you or something?" He asks placing his hands in his pockets. "Or are you okay like this?"
I shake my head. "No this is fine, grab a bowl yourself and join me," I say, "that is if you're not busy. I mean you probably have someplace else to be. Besides you don't want to catch whatever I have," I say as he is heading for the kitchen.
"Don't be silly. Of course, I'm not busy. I'm looking after you," he calls out, and I can hear him rummaging in the kitchen. Shortly after he joins me on the sofa. "I'm sure I won't get sick. Besides if I leave, who's going to take care of you?"
I send him a smile. "I thought I told you over the phone that I'd be taking care of myself,"
"You said you'd try to. There's a difference," he says. So observant he is. I look at the clock on my wall realising it's only 5:30pm.
"You left work early," I blurt our, knowing I did say I'd try to take care of myself, but that doesn't mean I'm not capable of.
"I wanted to check on the patient," he sends me a wink.
"You know, as much as I want to tell you to leave because there's at least a dozen of reasons I can give you to be elsewhere, I really do appreciate having you here," I confess and taste the soup trying to keep myself busy as I await Harry's answer.
"Then there's no place more important for me to be right now. Don't worry about work. I don't mind staying a little longer tomorrow."
"Had I known you'd come I'd cleaned a bit."
"Don't be silly. The place's great. Guess Maroubra isn't too bad after all," he says tasting the soup.
I give him a smile and look at the screen. "This is great you know," I say referring to the soup although I must admit his company isn't too bad either.
"Glad you think so. I'm pretty sure it's the best in town," he says and laughs at a joke coming from the tv. His laugh is precious, and I'm very much aware that I'm falling in deep. Why does he have to play with my mind like this?
For the rest of the episode we eat without speaking another word as we finish our soups. I place my empty bowl on the table and readjust myself on the sofa and pull the blanket over my shoulders.
"You still cold? You want me to make you a cuppa tea?"
"I'm alright, thanks. The soup was exactly what I needed." For a while silence settles over us, at least none of us speak for a while. The only sound in the room is the one from the tv. But after a while, I finally finds it in me to ask him what had been on my mind ever since I learned about Kaia. "How did you and Kaia meet?" I ask out loud knowing it's none of my business, but if we're friends, it's not rude to ask is it?
He sighs and places his bowl next to mine, and rests his leg on the sofa as he faces me while his foot hangs over the edge. I hadn't even noticed he is no longer wearing his shoes. "I've known her practically all my life."
"Really? So you figured you liked your childhood bestie as more than just a friend?" I ask with a smile trying to lighten the mood. This is awkward. Everything suddenly seems so serious, I wasn't trying to spoil the mood just trying to understand him better. I still don't understand what he sees in her.
"Yeah, something like that," he says, but I'm not buying it.
"Right, we don't have to talk about it, sorry," I say grabbing our empty bowls and bring them to the kitchen. I've just ruined the mood. I hear Harry following me, and for a moment I freeze awaiting his words, but nothing comes before I place the bowls on the kitchen bench and turn to face him.
"Sorry. I guess I'm not really a big fan of the topic."
I shake my head. "That's alright. Don't worry about it. Forget I brought it up," I say confused as to why he doesn't like to talk about her. He is supposed to be ecstatic isn't he? He's getting married.
"You don't get it," he says placing his hands inside his jean pockets. "Kaia and I have never been friends. Our parents are though." I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure if now is the right time to cut in.
"Okay?"
He gulps and his eyes meet mine. "I never liked her. I'm not in love with her either if that's what you're wondering," he confesses and my eyes widen. Is he messing with me?
"What?"
"Since we were little, it's been in the cards. A way to connect the two families. Their company with ours. Kind of like an extra bond to seal the deal."
"I don't follow."
"Call it an arranged marriage if you like. But since I was a child I've known we would marry. Just last year we made it official. She didn't turn 21 until then. Her parents were hoping for a girl, and unfortunately for me their wish was granted. But it's not uncommon for me."
"What do you mean?"
"My parents' marriage were arranged too. Mum has told me it takes time to fall in love. She says that once we're married it'll be different. They've been married for more than 30 years now. So I guess it can work out."
"And you're okay with that?"
He shrugs and sends me an empty stare. "It's not like I really have a choice, if this doesn't work we'll lose millions."
"So it's all about money?" I wonder. How sick is that? Poor Harry. But then again he's old enough to cut loose.
"You can say that," he huffs probably realising how sick the whole thing sounds. "It's not like I believe in love anyway. So I guess it's fine."
"And Sam? She's engaged too?"
He shakes his head. "No. Not yet at least. They haven't found a suitable bachelor for her, yet. Luckily," he chuckles.
"This isn't funny, Harry. This is sick. A marriage isn't supposed to be based on a business deal. It's supposed to be based on love."
"But what happens when I don't believe in love?" He asks walking closer as he hovers over me. I look up.
"Then you stay single, I guess," I say shaking my head. I can't believe I'm hearing him right now. "How can you be okay with this?"
"It's all I've ever known. This has always been in my cards. I don't know anything else," he confesses, and I want to wrap my arms around him to tell him that he can't live his life that way. But it's not my place to tell him that, so I stare at the floor instead, but Harry places a finger on my chin and forces my head up. "Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. Besides it's not really that big of a deal to me," he says, but I hear how his voice breaks at the last part. Clearly this is a big deal to him, but at the same time I'm not sure what would happen if he told his parents off. "Now let me get you back under that blanket. I don't like how your body is trembling." What he doesn't understand is that my body isn't trembling because I'm sick, my body is trembling because what he has just told me has upset me beyond words. No one should live their life like that. But if he's okay with that, I have no choice but to be too. Yet that doesn't make any of it more right.