by Ashley Munoz
Apparently, she had already befriended every single employee in the bar and every one of them wondered where she was, and each time that I had to reply that she was out sick, I felt a little surge of guilt. She was out sick because she was outside Saturday night with wet hair, bare feet, and wearing practically nothing; desperately trying to get me to come back inside and talk to her. I hated that she was sick because of me, but still, I hesitated to contact her, and I made sure to keep our emails professional.
I had to, otherwise I would fall apart and that would give Ramsey access to me again, where she could do some real damage. This was better. I had to believe it was better; eventually, we would move past this.
When Carla’s number flashed on my screen, I felt a surge of panic. With Ramsey being sick and not knowing how she was doing, it felt like my only connection to her just reached out to me. I was in the middle of a big project, but I stepped away from it to answer.
“Hello, Carla?” I sounded worried, so I made a mental note to calm the hell down.
“Jimmy? Hello, sorry to bother you at work, are you busy?” She sounded a little breathless, like maybe she had been walking or moving too much. That didn’t sit well with me.
“No, it's fine, Carla, what can I help you with?”
“Well, Jimmy, I was wondering if either you or your dad could come and help me with something? The pilot light went out and Ramsey usually lights it for me, but she can’t come out of her room,” she finished, in a tone that indicated that I should already know this. My mind was racing at this news, and why the hell Ramsey couldn't leave her room. Exactly how sick was she?
Dad wasn't doing anything, I should have him go over, but I had to know how bad Ramsey was. I needed to see her. I ended my call with Carla, telling her I'd be there soon. I let everyone know that I was leaving early, and I traveled those fifteen miles of highway to Belvidere to fix a pilot light and feed my Ramsey addiction.
I knocked on Carla’s door and greeted her warmly. If she and Ramsey talked about what had happened over the weekend, Carla wasn’t showing any sign of it. She was sweet, wearing a soft blue tracksuit and her head was wrapped in a blue bandana. She looked tired and that made me sad, like it usually did. She led me to where she kept her water heater, then handed me a long-necked lighter. I was wearing a rather expensive suit, but I was never one for caring about that sort of thing. It just happened to be a nice suit that happened to cost a lot of money, it didn’t bother me that I was now lying on my stomach on the floor, lighting her pilot. Once it was lit, I stood up and dusted myself off. Carla was standing with her hands on her hips, and she looked introspective. I handed her the lighter and slowly started making my way towards her kitchen. The house looked okay, which was good, but why was Ramsey not allowed out of her room? Placing my hands on my hips, I faced Carla.
“So, Carla, why exactly is Ramsey stuck in her room? Is she okay?”
Carla’s eyebrows rose and scrunched together. “She’s very sick, and my immune system is very weak, so she has to stay in there until she is symptom-free, which will probably be another three days, at least.” Concern laced her voice, and she had her hands together as she shuffled her feet from side to side. I watched her with a curious glance until she looked up. She threw her arms out, yelling, “I make sure she gets food though!”
I held back a laugh. Of course, I didn’t assume that she was starving Ramsey. I was hoping that Carla would let me see her; maybe she wouldn’t care, maybe she would, but I had to try.
“So, you haven’t been able to check in on her much because you can’t be around her?” I asked Carla with a bit of a quizzical look.
“No, not at all, and I feel terrible about it.” She looked down at the carpet, as though she was trying to cover up for how ashamed she was about her declaration.
“Well, then I insist on checking on her while I'm here,” I said, starting to walk towards Ramsey's bedroom. I wasn’t sure what Ramsey looked like, if she was even dressed, but I guess I was about to find out.
Carla trailed behind me silently but didn't protest. Halfway to Ramsey’s bedroom, she stopped and decided she would wait in the living room, probably remembering that she couldn't get too close to Ramsey.
I gently knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so I slowly opened it.
I noticed first that the room was dark and seemed depressing. She had one of those oil diffuser things in her room, her TV was playing episodes of How I met your Mother, and the volume was low. Ramsey laid face down on her bed, and she was covered in blankets, but I could see that she was at least wearing a shirt. She had her laptop resting on the pillow next to her head, and it looked uncomfortable because the cord was stretching from the wall across Ramsey's head. I took a few steps into the room; it was messy and full of empty cups and tissues. I remembered how often my mom had taken care of me when I didn't feel well. I loved sunlight and a clean room when I was sick, with clean sheets and clean blankets. I felt bad that Ramsey couldn’t have that. I went to reach for the laptop to move it, but stopped as soon as I saw the screen. It was still lit up, probably because it was plugged in. The screen had an email on it, and I wouldn’t normally snoop, but it was an email addressed to me. I looked at Ramsey; she seemed thoroughly knocked out, so I felt okay to take a second to read it. I didn’t remember this email coming through to my inbox and saw that it wasn’t sent yet.
The email was sobering, it pinched and twisted my gut, as I read about how she didn't want to see me and how that was growing with each passing day. I slowly made my way down to the bed where I carefully sat and read the rest. The entire email was like a kick to the gut, but what really sealed the deal for me was the end, when she mentioned going back to Chicago once her mom passed.
I sat there on her bed, staring at this email that maybe I was never supposed to read. I realized that I could walk away and never look back. I could stay away from Ramsey, I could end it with her before it could really begin. I could stay away to protect myself, but I'd already done that. Which was why there was essentially a goodbye letter sitting on Ramsey’s computer; I walked away, and she wasn’t waiting around for me to pull my head out of my ass. That scared me more than the idea of being hurt by her.
Ramsey couldn’t leave. She couldn’t be reduced to some family friend that occasionally came and saw Jasmine on the weekends. Our relationship couldn’t be reduced to some awkward hello here and there, until the day came that I heard through Jasmine that Ramsey was engaged or going to have a baby with someone else. That couldn't happen. There was this thing happening inside of my chest that scared me. It was like this need just hit me. Like finding out I had another kid somewhere, or that my mother was still alive. It was a desperation, something I couldn't live without. And Ramsey was at the source of it.
I closed my eyes, to try and move past the feeling. I looked over at Ramsey’s crazy hair, her makeup-free face, her red nose, a tiny blue bruise in the corner of her eye, and the tissues surrounding her, and knew what I was going to do.
I walked over to her closet and found a small duffle bag. I went to her dresser and invaded her privacy on way too many levels, but I packed her a bag with clean clothes, found her cell phone and charger, and threw them in. I walked into her bathroom and added her toothbrush, toothpaste, and shower stuff. I headed to the side of her bed and added in all of her cold remedies. I even unplugged her oil diffuser and grabbed the oils that were next to it and shoved it in the duffle. I turned off her TV, threw her duffel strap over my chest, and walked over and gently picked up Ramsey, along with her blanket, and walked out of her room. I walked down the hallway and yelled to Carla;
“I am going to take Ramsey to my house and take care of her there until she is symptom-free.”
Carla appeared but kept her distance. She had a hopeful look on her face as she took in the duffel bag and her daughter in my arms, and a soft smile appeared on her face.
“Oh, Jimmy, you don’t have to do that, but I appreciate it, and I t
hink it's a great idea. Did you get her cold medicine?”
I smiled. “Yeah I got everything. I am sure she will call you when she wakes up, and let you know how she's feeling. Does she have any favorite soups that I can make her, or tea?”
Ramsey was still out, she must have taken something strong. She was surprisingly light in my arms for how tall she was, so I waited for Carla to think about the foods I should feed to Ramsey.
“She loves chicken noodle, but not the canned kind; only the real kind with veggies and chunks of chicken. She loves peppermint tea with a little milk. Here, take this tea with you, it is supposed to help with sore throats.”
She started moving towards the kitchen, picking up a face mask on the way. She grabbed a box from the cupboard and gently placed it on Ramsey’s stomach. I smiled and thanked her as I made my way towards the door. Carla moved to get ahead of me and opened the door, and then walked out to open the passenger side door of the Tahoe for me. I gently placed Ramsey in the car and put the seatbelt over her, then shut her in. I faced Carla again and thanked her for her help. I tried to reassure her about Ramsey being okay at my house, but she didn’t seem to need much reassurance.
“Keep her as long as she's not a burden or inconvenience," she said, while placing her tiny hand on my arm, walking with me towards my side of the car. Right before I got in, she added, “She cares for you, Jimmy, she cares for you a great deal. You both deserve happiness. Just don’t miss it when it stares you in the face.”
She gave my arm a squeeze and turned to walk back into the house. I yelled after her, “Call if you need anything. I don’t like the idea of you being alone. I can send my dad over in a matter of minutes if you need anything, okay?”
She smiled and waved her hand in acknowledgment. I climbed into the Tahoe and looked over at Ramsey. She had her head against the glass, and she was still completely passed out. That made me concerned; she was essentially just kidnapped and missed it completely. I made my way home and pulled into the garage. I grabbed her duffel bag first, and ran ahead, opening all the doors I would need to have open in order to carry her in. I went back and gently grabbed Ramsey from the car. I made my way through the kitchen and into the living room, past my dad, who was on the couch watching some fishing show, and walked upstairs to my room, where I carefully placed her in my bed. I closed the shades, but left them open enough for the room to seem bright. I looked over at her in my bed and saw that she was starting to wake up. She opened one eye, took the palm of her hand, and shoved it into her eye socket. With her other hand, she felt the sheets, and turned her head until she saw me, and froze.
She looked surprised more than anything. Confused, and a little embarrassed. All of which I could deal with, just as long as she wasn’t mad that I had basically kidnapped her. She looked so tired, and sick, but strangely gorgeous. It was probably because I wanted to marry her. What the hell, Jimmy?!
I shook my head at the craziness of it all and continued thinking, I knew if that fantasy were to ever become a reality, then I would be seeing a lot of moments in Ramsey’s life where she didn’t look her best. I wanted to be the only person in her life that was there to see her at her worst. I smiled at her, as I thought of becoming the man who got to love her in sickness and in health. She returned my smile, and then closed her eyes as she snuggled into my pillows and fell back asleep.
I needed to let her sleep, so I went downstairs and got her a glass of water and placed it next to the bed. I fished her cell phone out of the duffel that I had brought up, and put it next to her, so when she woke up, she wouldn't panic. I walked downstairs and filled my dad in on what was going on. He smiled and patted me on the back; it was his silent way of showing that he was proud of me, which was a medicine to old wounds that still festered every now and then.
While I waited for Ramsey to wake up, I decided I should probably respond to her text messages. Better late than never.
I was waking up from the most beautiful dream. In my dream, I was in Jimmy's bed and he was standing near me and looking at me like he cherished me, or loved me. I think if it's a dream, then you can make it whatever you want and I choose love. Yep, he definitely loved me. I was still sick in the dream, unfortunately, but I had this warm and cozy feeling that you only get from really good dreams. My eyes were still shut, but that was because my head still hurt, and my throat was still clogged with phlegm and all things disgusting. I was gross, and needed a shower and to brush my teeth. I also needed food and water; all the essential things to keep me alive.
I stretched my arms above my head and began to turn my head. I barely opened my left eye—these things had to be taken in stages and opening my eyes while feeling like death was going to take several. My eye was blurry and gross, and all I could make out were colors and shapes. Odd shapes, but what I noticed immediately was sunlight, which was strange because I had blackout curtains in my room. I opened my right eye, so they were both open now, and began to lightly rub at them so I could clear away some of the crusty blockage that was impairing my vision. The light came into focus—it was definitely sunlight, coming from wooden slats that hung as blinds over a very large window. My eyes moved to the sheets that surrounded my pathetically weak body, and I saw white, so much white.
My breath caught as I took in the rest of the room; this was Jimmy's room. I didn't dream that look or being carried up a set of stairs or being gently placed into this massive bed of his. I froze, and panic began to gather in my throat, along with all that nasty phlegm. I started to cough, because I knew that I looked, smelled, and probably sounded like death, and death was not a particular look I wanted to have when seeing Jimmy Stenson.
Also, he was freezing me out, ignoring me, and infuriating me, the last time I checked. So why was I lying in his bed? The thought was making my head hurt more than it already was. This whole thing was making me freak out, and I hated freaking out because it usually involved crying and snot and an ugly face. Okay, stop it, Ramsey!
I slowly sat up and looked around. The good news was that the house seemed silent, which meant that I might be all alone. That made me feel instantly better. I started to throw the covers back, and saw I was still in my nightshirt and sweats; again, that brought me comfort, that meant that no one had to awkwardly change me. As I moved my legs over to the edge of the bed, I stopped and noticed that my cell phone was plugged in, charging, and sitting on the bedside table. Relief flooded me. I grabbed it and pressed the screen, immediately I noticed several notifications. A few were from Laney and some from my mom, and a few from Jimmy. I wanted those first. I touched Jimmy's name in my list of messages and read the oldest one first, it was dated yesterday.
6:35 p.m.- Ramsey, please don't freak out when you wake up. I will explain everything, but your mom knows you are here and helped me.
8:00 p.m.- Whenever you wake up, feel free to shower, there are fresh towels in the bathroom and your duffel bag is in there, with fresh clothes.
Lastly, I found one from this morning.
8:15 a.m.- Good morning, Ramsey, I am not sure when you will wake up, but I am heading to work then I will be back around lunchtime to check on you. My dad is at Sip N Sides if you need anything. I have my phone just call or text if you need something.
I checked the current time and saw that it was a quarter to twelve. Which meant that it was lunchtime. My foggy brain clicked into gear just in time to realize that Jimmy was going to be home any minute, and I still looked, smelled, and sounded like death. I jumped up, then slumped back down because I felt like death. I considered giving up and getting back into bed; if I threw the blankets over me, Jimmy wouldn't be able to see me or smell me, unless I did actually end up dying. I decided against that plan and slowly got up and shuffled towards his bathroom.
I headed for the toilet first. After sleeping as long as I did, I was surprised I hadn’t peed my pants already. While I sat there, I looked around and found the bathroom in pristine shape, just like last time. It was immaculately clean,
glowing even. Not a single loose hair in sight. No streaks on his mirror, or splatter from toothpaste. Who lived like this?
I stripped out of my disgusting clothes, found my toiletries in my duffel, and headed into his walk-in shower. The stones were cold under my feet as I admired the dark tones of stone on the wall of the shower. I looked up towards the chrome showerhead, and then looked at the one on the opposite wall. Neither wall had any lever or knob, and there was nothing to indicate what would turn on the shower. A little confused, I pushed in on the stone wall, thinking maybe it was like a trick shower wall thing. Nothing happened. So, I stood on my tiptoes and touched the showerheads, one by one, and again, nothing. Damn it!
I was standing there about to cry. I just wanted to get clean. I tried the wall again, pushing, punching, but nothing happened. I considered this was all a big fat practical joke, and Jimmy was trying to get me back or something. I decided to give up on the shower and settled instead for the small swimming pool in the corner of Jimmy’s bathroom.
I turned to face the huge, jetted bathtub, and of course, I wanted to use it, but not when I only had fifteen minutes until Jimmy would possibly be here. I sighed and walked over to it; thankfully the knobs were fairly straightforward. The jets had labels, as well as the knobs themselves, and I turned the one with the indicating -H- on it, then looked around for some bubbles. Typical man had no bubbles, which I couldn't fault him for. So, I decided to just add in some of my body wash because you absolutely cannot take a bath without bubbles.
I sat down in the tub while the water continued to fill around me, the aroma of lilac body wash filling the spacious room. I took what was left of my ponytail out, letting my crazy hair fall down around my shoulders, and leaned back against the cushioned headrest. Once the tub was practically full, I turned the knob off and just soaked.
