“Well, you threw up several times and you’re probably dehydrated. Soon you’ll have a headache along with all the other symptoms you already have, so you’ll be even more miserable. It’s up to you.”
“I don’t think there’s room to be more miserable,” he says with a sigh. He takes one sip then another one. “Not bad.” Handing me the glass he leans against the pillows and closes his eyes. “Let’s see if I barf again.”
“Try to rest.” I place the glass on the nightstand and walk toward the door. When I’m almost out of the room, Lucas says, “Thanks, Jane. You’re the best.”
It takes Lucas four and a half days to fight the sickness. He stopped vomiting the second day and began eating the third evening. Only a few bites at first, then as more time passed by, he was able to keep it down. Madame V’s doctor prescribed him meds that one of her assistants brought within hours after I informed her about him being sick.
“Hey.”
I turn to see Lucas with a blanket over his shoulder. Unshaved for days now, it’s hard to say if he’s still pale or if color’s returned to his face.
“Why did you get up?”
“Is Ella asleep?”
I nod and continue putting dishes away. “You need anything?”
“I’m hungry.” He comes and reaches for the fridge door but I stop him. “Don’t touch that.”
With his arm still up in the air he says, “Why not?”
“You have germs. I already disinfected everything. Go sit at the table. I’ll feed you.”
“Disinfected everything? What do you mean everything?”
“Door handles, light switches, you know, everything we touch when we’re sick, and then everyone else gets sick because of the army of germs we leave behind.””
“Wow,” he sits, pulling at the corners of the blanket. “You’re a germaphobe, as well.”
“Be nice. I can dump a whole box of salt in your rice or overheat it if you misbehave.”
“I don’t want rice. I’m tired of it. Been eating it forever now. I don’t ever want to see bananas, rice, applesauce or toast. They’re so bland.”
“Two days, that’s how long you’ve eaten them.” I place a bowl of steaming rice in front of him and a banana. “B.R.A.T. diet, that’s the perfect diet to get you back on your feet. Stop complaining and eat.”
He pushes at the rice. Looking up at me with a smile he says, “B.R.A.T. diet? Did you invent it?”
“Yes, I invented it to annoy you.” I punch his shoulder then bring my cup of tea and sit at the table across from him. He does look much better now that I take a closer look at him. And based on his teasing he’s on his way to full recovery.
Blowing on his forkful of rice, he says, “You wanna watch a movie?”
“When, now?”
“After I’m done with this gourmet dinner and take a shower.”
It’s 8:20 P.M. Plenty of time for a movie. “Sure.”
“Am I allowed to have popcorn and beer or would it clash with the B.R.A.T. diet?” For the last two words he makes quotations marks in the air.
“Popcorn yes, beer no.”
“You take great pleasure in this, don’t you?” He takes another bite. Chewing he says, “Being strict and stuff. Telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“That would be very true, my friend, except—” I tilt my head, “If your persona interested me in the very least. But it doesn’t.”
“You took care of me when you didn’t have to. That means my persona interests you.”
Taking his empty bowl and my cup to the sink, I retort, “No, genius. I took care of you because you got sick taking care of my sick daughter. I need you healthy so you can keep your promise to show us Paris.”
As I rinse the dishes I sense Lucas behind me. He leans and whispers in my ear, “Liar. You did it because you’re totally into me.” With a muffled chuckle he walks away.
“Too bad you didn’t sweat out, or better, vomit out that smugness of yours. You had a chance of becoming more agreeable,” I laugh behind him.
Without turning my way, he says, “Popcorn and movie in ten.”
It takes him longer than ten minutes. Armed with bowls of popcorn and water bottles I move to the living room, and then wait. I can’t hear the shower but I do hear Lucas on the phone. Knowing him this might last until midnight.
After placing a few logs on the fire and sitting on the sofa, I pull a blanket over my legs and open my laptop. I keep writing when Lucas comes in.
Pale, shaved, and freshly showered he’s almost the old Lucas. Dressed in pajamas, he slouches next to me on the sofa holding a handful of DVDs.
“Sorry. Mom’s nurse called. They changed her meds and she had another epileptic episode.”
I stop typing. “Is she okay? Do you need to go see her?”
“Not now,” he shakes his head, looking sideways to my screen and obviously reading off of it. He places the DVDs next to him. “They keep changing her meds. The nurse assured me she’s okay. I’ll go see her in a couple of weeks. What are you writing?”
I return my attention to the Word document on my screen. “I was thinking about an introduction for the column and wrote some of it, but it’s not finished.” I click the save button and try to close the laptop, not wanting him to read anything before I review it.
“Wait,” he takes the laptop from my lap. “I want to read.”
I hold on the laptop’s short side while he has the other side. “No, it’s not ready. Let’s watch the movie. Look, I made popcorn.”
My attempt at diverting his attention fails along with holding onto my laptop. He has it on his lap and reads aloud:
“If you’ve seen the movie ‘Friends With Benefits’ and you expect to find that type of benefit here, I hate to tell you that’s NOT what you’ll receive on this site. This is NOT a place for him wanting to find her and hump each other like rabbits. No.
“The benefits you’ll find on this column are more complex, and while they won’t provide you with a climax, they are intended to provide you with either a (virtual) shoulder to cry on, a laugh, or simply a good advice.
“I hope in time readers coming here will be comfortable enough to open up about anything and everything they need help with. Family, friends, love, relationships, career, health, finance—you name it. All posts will be approved prior to publishing. Bad language and personal attacks are a no-no. Please be polite. Feel free to pitch in—your words of wisdom are much appreciated.”
Lucas looks at me. A skewed smile, the same that made me roll my eyes many times, is back on his lips. I know whatever he’s about to say will have me guarded and for a split second I wish he were still sick—I wouldn’t have to put up with his mocking just yet.
Making quotation marks in the air he says, “‘Him wanting to find her and hump each other like rabbits?’ That’s an interesting introduction. I’m hooked already.”
“I told you it’s only a draft.” I bite my lip and take the laptop away from him. With a definite sound I close it and set it on the coffee table to my left. Whatever I write needs a lot of polishing before anyone can see it. Now that I heard him read it out loud maybe I was too bold. Retrieving both bowls of popcorn I hand him one. “Are we gonna watch a movie or what?”
Lucas takes the bowl but keeps his eyes on me. It’s one of those penetrating looks that you feel digging deep in your very core and stripping you of all walls. I grab a handful of popcorn and eat it, motioning him to do the same.
He eats some then browses through the DVDs, reading their titles aloud. “‘The Woman in Black,’ ‘Sinister,’ ‘ The Cabin in the Woods—”
“Wait,” I hold a hand up and look at the rest of the DVD cases. “Horror movies? I’ve never watched a scary movie, let alone a horror one.”
“Don’t be such a baby. You don’t know what you’re missing. They’re action packed.”
“Action packed with what? Crimes? Awful creatures? Blood?” I shiver. “Yuck. I swear I’m not watchi
ng a horror movie. You go ahead, but I won’t watch it with you.”
Lucas drops all DVDs then turns toward me, spreading both hands above my head and curling his fingers as if trying to grab me. With wide eyes he whispers in a deep voice, “The monster is here. He came for you!”
Rolling my eyes, I slap his hands away. “Stop it. It’s not funny.”
“Of course it’s funny. You know those movies are just that, movies. Everything is pure imagination.”
“You mean sick imagination. Thanks but no thanks. Come on, let’s watch something else.” I pick up the remote and scroll to HBO channels. “Here, let’s watch ‘Diary Of A Wimpy Kid.’ Or ‘Pitch Perfect’ or ‘Forest Gump.’” After each new title I glance sideways and see him shrug. “Okay. How about—” I flip through yet another channel, “How about ‘When Harry Met Sally?’ It’s old but funny. And relaxing, which is what we should be watching before bedtime, not some sick horror crap.”
“Fine.”
I start the movie. At one point Lucas reaches over for my blanket and pulls it over his legs. We sit side by side and eat popcorn while Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan annoy each other. Although I’ve seen the movie many years ago, I still laugh when Billy Crystal spits grape seeds out the window to Meg Ryan’s mortification.
Once in a while I steal a glance at Lucas. Our shoulders touch and he seems really relaxed, laughing so hard a few times I shush him for fear he’ll wake Ella up. Eventually he finishes his popcorn then reaches over to my bowl and eats more.
With his mouth full and pointing at the screen he says, “This is so you. You’re the quintessence of Sally.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he nods several times. “You’re regimented, uptight and rigorous. I’ll bet the writer studied you before writing the screenplay. You were his muse, right?”
“It was a she, the writer was a she and her name is Nora Ephron and no, I wasn’t her muse. And since when is this about me? Shut up and watch the movie.”
Lucas is quiet for a few minutes then says, “How come you know her name?”
“Whose?”
“Who wrote the screenplay.”
“I looked it up.”
“Do you look up details about every movie you like?”
Not looking his way I say, “Yes. I know who directs them, who plays the characters, and what awards they received. I’ve a vast collection at home.”
“But not horror movies.”
“No. I told you I don’t watch such movies. Now hush.”
“Do you label your movies?”
“Yes, I do.”
Elbowing me he says, “Do you like animals?”
“I do, but I’m allergic to cats.”
“How about traveling? Do you like traveling?”
Now that my bowl of popcorn is empty, I place it down. “Yes, when I can afford it.”
“Do you cuss?”
I shake my head, hoping that if I don’t speak, he’ll stop.
“How about your clothes? Do you sort them out?”
So much for not talking. With a sigh I say, “Yes, by season.”
“What’s your favorite fruit? Plant? Sport?”
I pause the movie then turn his way with one leg pulled under me, the other one on the floor. “Favorite fruit is cherry. I like white lilies and am a big fan of the Lakers. What else would you like to know, mister I-can’t-shut-up?”
Lucas puts both hands up. “Hey, don’t bite my head off. I’ve been trying to know you better.”
“Know me better? Why?”
“To be like Harry and Sally,” he motions toward the screen. “Become friends. We’ve been in the same house for what, ten days now? And since we managed to survive, we should know a little bit about one another. Especially now that you passed the test of caregiver, I’m moving you from my ‘do-not-cross-list’ to ‘must-call-during-emergency-list.’”
“You keep lists with people you meet?”
He tries really hard not to laugh but fails. “Not grouped by color or season or year I meet them, but yeah . . .”
“You’re impossible.” I can’t help but smile and roll my eyes.
“No, no, no,” Lucas shakes a threatening finger at me. “No eye rolling.”
I start the movie once again. “Let’s finish the movie.”
A few minutes later he says, “Aren’t you going to ask me anything about myself?”
“No, but I can tell you another fact about me. I like to watch movies in silence.”
“I like dogs,” he says after a lengthy pause. “I’m allergic to sunflower seeds. My brother Cameron lives with me. I went to college to study geology and dropped out after two years. Never finished. Oh, and I was married, once.” As if this sums up his entire life, Lucas is quiet.
Lucas being married has my full attention. What happened? When did he divorce? And why? Where is his ex now? Does he keep in touch? Now I want to talk, but since I gave him a hard time about watching the movie in silence I can’t break my own rule.
Maybe I am too regimented.
“You sure I can’t have a beer? Popcorn goes best with beer.” Lucas asks exactly when Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan are in the restaurant and she’s about to fake orgasm.
Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God. I need a paper bag or I’ll faint. I totally forgot about this scene. I can’t watch it with Lucas. Not in a million years. I fast forward the movie then let it play again.
“Hey, what was that about?” Lucas tries to take the remote from my hand.
“It’s a horrible scene I can’t watch with you. It’s not important to the plot so let’s skip it.”
He still fights me for the remote but I grip it with both hands and hide it between my legs.
“Horrible? I guess you’re right; a woman faking orgasm is horrible, but—” Lucas laughs, holding a finger in the air, “—this exact scene is important to the plot. Afterward Harry sees Sally in a different light because of this scene. Let’s see it. And you better give me that remote freely or I’ll reach between your legs for it. You choose.”
“You know the movie?” I ask mortified.
“Hello? Which planet do you think me from? Just because I watch horror movies doesn’t mean that I don’t watch other genres. Had you asked me things about myself as I did you, you would’ve known that. Plus, Meg Ryan is one of my favorite actresses. I’ve seen all her movies.”
“Fine then.” I hand him the remote. “You win. Call me back after you’re done watching that scene.” I get up to walk away.
Lucas catches my wrist. Laughing he says, “You serious?”
I look down at him. “Dead serious. I don’t know how ‘friends’ you think us to be, but this is beyond embarrassing. It’s too personal.”
Silence stretches for several moments. He still grips my wrist and I still stand. I hold his stare. The way he looks at me, with the smile completely gone, has me wondering what goes through his mind. Probably nothing good.
“Stay,” Lucas says. “I won’t force you to see that scene.” He starts the movie, dropping the remote on the couch.
I sit back but away from him. Moments ago I felt relaxed next to him, now not anymore. The remote between us is not only a pretext but also a symbol of how different we are. He can pose naked. I, on the other hand, can’t even fathom the idea of watching a woman faking an orgasm on screen while I’m next to a man. Now that I think about it, am I too uptight? I’ve seen the movie with my girlfriends. It must be only because of Lucas. Would he think less of me if I agree to watch it? It’s a movie after all. Why does it matter what Lucas thinks of me and since when do I care what he thinks?
“I won’t bite,” Lucas removes the remote and comes closer. Stretching the blanket he covers my legs and his.
I look at his profile. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Not looking my way he says, “But not comfortable around me either.”
I feel bad for ruining the mood. I continue to watch the movie stealing now and then glan
ces at Lucas. He stretches his legs on the ottoman in front of the couch, and laughs. As much as I like to watch movies in silence, I wish he’d say something.
Eventually he tilts his head toward me and says, “You’re different. Unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“You’ve said this before and I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing.”
He turns toward me. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips and a spark in his eyes. “Good, it’s a good thing. Promise me something, though. Promise it won’t take us as many years as it took Sally and Harry to become friends.”
My heart does a flip-flop, a rocket launch and a dive, all three in one single motion. I’m dizzy. What does he mean? Why does he want to become friends? What would involve us being friends? What type of friends?
As if reading my mind he covers my mouth and says, “Shhh, be quiet. It’s movie time.”
I push his hand away and smile. “These are my rules. I can break them if I want to.”
“Aha.” He pretends to write on his palm. “Double standards. I can add double standards to the list of things I know about you.”
“Great. Now I’m gonna be nothing more than a flashcard in your Rolodex.”
“A Rolodex sounds as old-fashioned as your rules, but you’ll be more than a flashcard.”
I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. Two, three, five minutes later still no words come out of his mouth. He seems engrossed in the movie while I can’t wait for him to speak again. What. Did. He. Mean?
I elbow him. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
A finger over his lips is his answer. It’s a game he’s playing trying to get to me. Fine. Game is what he wants, game is what he gets. I can be quiet like a fish under water. He on the other hand, I bet he can’t. At least not for too long.
When Harry rushes to console Sally about her ex getting married, Lucas says, “You wanna go for a run tomorrow morning? Maybe have lunch in Paris?”
It’s my turn to put a finger over my lips and not answer.
“You’re annoying, you know that?” He elbows me.
Instead of answering I make a heart out of my fingers and bat my lashes. Who says payback isn’t sweet?
Me Tarzan, You Jane Page 14
