“Shh, shh,” she crooned as he slumped against the marble floor.
“Floor. Cold. Feels good,” he mumbled as he laid his cheek down.
Thank God Maria came and cleaned today, Liz thought. She rinsed out the cloth and grabbed another, giving it the same treatment. She put one on his neck to soothe his clammy skin and continued to wipe his face. When he seemed reasonably relaxed, she lined the small trash can with a trash bag, then got another can from his office and did the same with it. She put the office can next to his bed in case he needed it while he was sleeping and went back to the bathroom. Will was struggling to sit up and she immediately rushed to his side and helped him.
“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.
“Unnnnhhhhh,” he tried to reply, but he was clearly spent.
“I know, baby. It’ll be over soon. Can you have a sip of water?” Her voice was sweet and mellow, like a lullaby, and he was soothed by the sound and her comforting presence.
He nodded his head slightly and she brought the glass to his lips. He managed about three sips before turning his head away and she set the glass down.
“Do you think you’re going to throw up again?”
He nodded slightly.
“Soon?”
He nodded again. A minute later, Liz was once again smoothing his hair back and wiping his mouth. As he leaned against the side of the tub, he made a smacking gesture with his lips.
“Do you want to brush your teeth?”
He nodded. She put a little toothpaste on his toothbrush and handed it to Will. She watched him brush excruciatingly slowly, then gave him a little water to rinse and held the empty cup for him to spit into. If he hadn’t been feverish and so sick and weak he could hardly move, he would have been embarrassed at being taken care of like an invalid. But in his state he didn’t notice and was only grateful for her presence of mind and ability to give him exactly what he needed before he asked for it.
Once his teeth were clean and she had once again rinsed his face, she asked, “Do you want to try to go to bed?”
“No,” he croaked, “it’s not over yet. Just a little break.”
“Has this happened to you before?”
He tried to open his eyes to answer her. “Rio. Harry.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed he would be involved.”
Will tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. He fumbled about for her hand until she realized what he was doing and grasped his clammy palm in hers.
“Thanks, Liz. You’re… best… good… woman.”
She looked confused for a moment, then said, “Thanks, and… you’re welcome.” He half nodded in acknowledgement. “Are you planning on spending the night in here?”
He tried to nod again and she got up and patted his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
She was back two minutes later with the throw blanket from his reading chair and an old pillow she was stuffing into a cheap pillow case.
“This is one I brought from my old place, so it’s okay if you hurl on it. I think I paid three dollars for it at the Family Dollar.” She laid it down next to him and he sank onto the pillow, letting Liz drape the blanket across his back.
“There’s a trash can right here if you can’t make it to the toilet, and another by your bed if you decide you want to sleep there. Are you going to be okay if I go get ready for bed?”
He nodded sleepily into the pillow and closed his eyes. She brushed the hair off his brow and told him she’d be back in ten minutes.
She brushed her hair out and washed her face, then started flossing, keeping an ear out for Will. She heard her phone buzzing with a new text message from Sheila.
Sheila: How’s William? Everything ok?
Liz: Hardly. He’s ralphing all over the bathroom. Finally resting for a minute, but he’s not done.
Sheila: Oh no! I feel terrible! Is he mad?
Liz: I think he’s too sick to be mad. He might be mad tomorrow when he remembers that you ordered the food that made him sick. Are you both all right?
Sheila: We’re fine, but we eat there all the time. Do you think it was the lamb? He’s the only one that had that. I shouldn’t have talked him into trying that spicy dish.
Liz: No, probably not, but you had no way of knowing this would happen. I guess it could be the lamb, who knows? Don’t expect him to let you order for him again, though.
Sheila: Ha! As if I would try! You’ll let me know if you need anything?
Liz: Yes, I will. If this is still going tomorrow, I might need you. I’ll keep you posted.
Sheila: Sorry again, Liz. You can pick the next 3 restaurants!
Liz: I’ll remind you of that when you’re not swimming in guilt. Night!
Sheila: Night!
Liz put the phone away with a sigh and brushed her teeth. She slipped into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a blue tank top and looped her hair on top of her head. Padding softly to Will’s room, she heard a flush and a groan. She tapped softly on the door.
“Will? Can I come in?”
“Just a minute.” His voice sounded strained and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. This was only the third place they’d gone that was her choice. Well, not his choice, anyway. She couldn’t help but compare his classy, expensive, food-poison free restaurant choices to her more plebian tastes. She liked nice places as much as the next person, but she’d wanted to assert a little of herself into this relationship. He was branded all over her: his last name, his apartment, his money and credit cards and town cars and fancy events. He was clearly making a mark on her life, but was she making a mark on his?
Well, he’ll certainly remember this.
She felt horribly guilty for asking him to hang out with her friends. He’d said yes with very little convincing and had agreed to this double date, even though he hated ethnic food and especially hated sitting on the floor. No good deed goes unpunished.
She stopped her musing when Will opened the door and stood before her, upright for the first time in an hour. He was holding a tied up trash bag in his hand.
“Is that?” she gestured to the bag, not saying the word but knowing he would understand her.
“Yeah. I needed the toilet for… other… I’ll take this out.”
“No! I’ll take it. You stay here. Don’t move around too much. I’ll be right back.”
She ran the bag out to the hall and into the garbage chute, then got back in time to see Will trying to cover himself up on the bathroom floor.
“Here, let me do that.” She took the blanket from him and laid it across his back. “Better?”
“Yes. Thanks, Liz,” he said. “You’re lovely.”
“Shh. Try to get some sleep. I’ll be close by.”
Liz went to her room and laid down with the door open, but after a few minutes of straining to hear sounds from his room, she realized she’d never be able to sleep this far away. She grabbed her pillow and went back to Will’s room and climbed into his enormous king-sized bed. She could just make out where he slept on the marble floor through the crack in the bathroom door. He appeared to be sleeping and she tried to do the same.
An hour later, she was up with Will, wiping his brow and stroking his hair. They went back to sleep, then repeated the whole process two more times before the sun finally began to rise. Will had fallen into what appeared to be a deeper sleep and she had gotten him to drink a little bit of water, but she was afraid he was becoming dehydrated.
She remembered having food poisoning with Heather when they had both eaten some questionable crabs in South Carolina on family vacation. Liz had recovered in roughly a day and a half, but Heather had stayed sick for a full three days, eventually having to be hospitalized and given IV fluids, she was so dehydrated. Afraid that would happen to Will, she thought she should call his doctor. Just as she was getting up to make the call, she realized she didn’t know how to find the doctor’s number or even who his doctor was. Andy will know.
She went into her den and called Andrew. After four rings, his voicemail picked up and Liz left a message requesting the doctor’s name and contact information. Leaning her head back in exasperation, she knew she didn’t want to wait for Andy to call her back. That could take hours. It was only five thirty in the morning, after all. Scrolling through her contact lists, she made another call.
After two rings, a posh voice answered. “Is this the magical Lizzy, calling me at an unGodly hour on a Friday morning?”
“Harry, you know there’s nothing magical about me. And it’s after ten your time.”
“Ha! Any woman who gets the impenetrable William Harper to marry her, IN VEGAS, after only two months of dating is magical. And no one decent goes out before eleven, everybody knows that.”
She laughed in spite of her fatigue and suddenly felt the urge to hug him, though she barely knew him and he was an ocean away.
“Harry, I’m in a bit of a situation here. Will has food poisoning. He said he’s had it once before, with you.”
“Ah, you want the sordid story? Well, it was Carnival and we met these Brazilian girls, and they—”
“Actually,” she cut him off, “I was hoping you could tell me how long it lasted. I want to know what I’m in for here.”
“I was out for a day or two, I think Harper had it longer. Let me think…. we met them on Friday night and I was back at the party on Sunday evening while Harper was still moaning in bed, poor sod. So there you have it. Nearly three days!”
“Ohhh,” she moaned.
“Don’t worry, love. Just nurse him a bit and he’ll love you even more when it’s all over. Men can’t resist a nurse,” he said conspiratorially.
“Leave it to you to make food poisoning sexual,” she mumbled. “We’ll see. Thanks, Harry. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, love.”
“Oh, God! Three days!” she said to the room.
Her mind was whirring through all she had to do and their various social engagements that weekend. They were supposed to go to a dinner party Saturday night that would have to be cancelled, but thankfully that night and Sunday were clear. She needed to call Evelyn and tell her Harper would be out that day and to keep his Monday morning open in case he was still puny. She had to rewrite her paper on Brontë and had an essay due in another class. Thankfully, that one was already written and she just had to do a final polish. She decided to go ahead and do it now while she was up and Will was sleeping. Who knew how much time she would have over the weekend with him in this condition?
Forty-five minutes later, she stretched behind her desk and looked at her completed essay. At least that was one thing she could cross off her list. She quickly emailed it to her professor and then sent Evelyn a text message telling her Harper would not be in to work today and to keep Monday morning light. Evelyn immediately responded with sympathy and said she would cancel his day and his Saturday morning squash game as well. Liz thanked her and went to check on her husband.
He was just beginning to wake and seemed to have gotten back some color in his face until he sat up and he suddenly went pale again and had to lean over the toilet, dry heaving. Liz rubbed his back and said comforting words, like she had been doing all night.
“Liz?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I know I shouldn’t eat anything, but could you make me some toast? I’m hungry.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.” She knew he wouldn’t hold it down, but surely feeling hungry had to be a good sign? She was back a few minutes later with dry toast for Will and buttered for herself.
“Why can’t I have butter?” he asked like a child who’d been denied a treat.
“Because you’re sick. Dry is better. I think.”
He looked at her toast enviously, but ate his without further complaint.
The next several hours passed much as the night had done, with Will sleeping and vomiting in turn and Liz getting a nap or two between bouts. Sheila called at noon offering to bring lunch, which Liz quickly accepted.
She grabbed the books off her nightstand and put them in Will’s room and spritzed her perfume in the sheets for good measure. She made sure her bedroom was locked and was ready for company two minutes before the bell rang. Sheila arrived with a deli sandwich and cup of soup for Liz and some bizarre looking drink for Harper.
“I promise, it’ll make him feel better. Trust me,” Sheila said.
“Isn’t that what you said when you suggested that restaurant?”
“Ha ha. This time I mean it. Just get him to try it. It really does help.”
The drink went into the fridge and Sheila offered to proofread her paper while Liz ate. A few minutes later, Liz’s phone rang.
“That was Will’s doctor. He’ll stop by soon to check on him, but he said it mostly just needs to run its course and to keep him hydrated and comfortable.”
“Your doctor makes house calls? How do I get his number?”
“I know, right? It’s the first time I’ve ever had to call him. I guess it pays to be rich.”
“So have you gotten used to it yet? Being rich?” Sheila asked.
“In some ways, yeah. It’s nice to not have to take a calculator to the grocery store, but I still budget everything. Will teases me about it sometimes, but I think he appreciates that I’m not going spend-crazy.”
“He’s definitely a keeper. This place is great, by the way.”
“Thanks! Sorry I haven’t had you over yet. The summer was so hectic with the reception and meeting Will’s family and settling in. Half the rooms didn’t even have furniture in them! I’m finally coming up for air.”
“Of course you haven’t had anyone over! Getting married and moving is hectic. Plus you have to have all that newlywed sex. Doesn’t leave time for much else.”
Liz laughed and shook her head to hide her blush. “I thought we might have a little dinner party in October, let all the significant others meet each other.”
“Sounds fun. Or you could just take us with you to the Hamptons for the weekend,” Sheila joked to cover her friend’s embarrassment. It was funny how Liz had never cared when they talked about sex in her past relationships.
“You know, that’s a great idea! I’ll ask Will about it when he’s feeling better.”
“You know I was just kidding, right?”
“Of course. But it’s still a great idea.”
Their talk was interrupted by a moan in the bathroom and the simultaneous buzzing for the door.
“Can you let the doctor up? I’ll check on Will,” Liz said.
When she got to the bathroom, Will was holding his stomach and curled in a ball on his side. She rushed to him, touching his shoulder to get his attention.
“Baby, are you all right? How can I help you?” She rubbed his back and waited for an answer.
“Can’t help,” he ground out.
She felt his forehead and noted with relief that it wasn’t any hotter than it had been an hour ago, though it was still very warm. “Doctor Warren just got here. I’ll bring him back in a minute.”
Liz got to the door just as Sheila was opening it for the doctor. “Hi, I’m Elizabeth Harper, William’s wife. This is my friend Sheila Johansen. She’s helping me keep an eye on William.” Liz smiled and held out her hand. The doctor shook it and smiled kindly.
“I’m Dr. Warren. Where is the patient?” he asked.
“Right this way.”
Sheila stepped into the living room while Liz showed the doctor to Will’s place on the bathroom floor.
“Well, you certainly look comfortable, young man,” Dr. Warren commented as he knelt down. He took in Will’s pale face and asked him to lie flat on the floor. Will did as he was told, but it was clear he wasn’t completely aware of what was happening.
The doctor addressed his questions to Liz. When did the symptoms start? What exactly had he eaten? Did anyone else eat the same thing? Were they sick, too? How many times had he thrown up? Had h
e had any diarrhea? (She was only slightly mortified at that one.) Had he eaten or drunk anything since? When was the last time he vomited? How much sleep had he gotten?
The doctor felt his abdomen and checked his temperature with a digital thermometer. He looked in his eyes with a light and did the same with his ears.
“He’s pretty dehydrated, but I think you’re right about it being food poisoning. It’s generally very violent and that seems to fit the bill here.” Liz nodded agreement. “Did he have any symptoms before? Has he been feeling badly lately? Missing sleep?”
“No, he’s been sleeping regularly and hasn’t been sick a day since I met him. Until now, of course.”
The doctor chuckled. “Well that’s one way to get initiated in spousal care, huh?” She smiled weakly. “If we can get him to bed, I’d like to get an IV in him for a few hours, just to keep him hydrated.”
“Yeah, sure.” She bent to speak quietly to her husband. “Will, babe,” his eyes fluttered open slowly. “Can you get up and make it to the bed? The doctor wants to put an IV in.”
Will’s eyes widened slightly and he looked at Liz with worried eyes. “An IV?”
“Some patients hate needles,” Dr. Warren said to Liz. To Will he added, “Mr. Harper, just focus on your pretty wife here and don’t think about the needle. Just keep looking at Elizabeth.”
They led William to the bed and he lay down gingerly. Liz immediately climbed onto the bed on the other side of him and took his hand until he looked at her while Dr. Warren pulled out supplies on his other side. She told him about the paper she was rewriting and how she hoped this version pleased Professor Wheeler who, for some odd reason, had taken an immediate dislike to her. Dr. Warren smiled in approval at her method of distraction and within a few minutes, he had the IV stand unfolded and standing next to the bed with a clear bag of fluid hanging on it and was pulling a needle and other supplies from his bag. He surreptitiously slid a clipboard toward Liz which she glanced at long enough to read the words PERMISSION TO TREAT in bold letters at the top. She signed it with her right hand while her left still held Will’s without stopping her story for a moment.
In a matter of seconds, Dr. Warren had swabbed Will’s arm and inserted the IV, taped it off and disposed of the packaging while William sat silently staring at Liz as she continued with her tale of unjust treatment at the cruel hands of her professor. When he looked like he was about to drop off again, Liz kissed his forehead and followed the doctor out of the room.
Green Card Page 23
