I was ecstatic after leaving the bookstore. Seth had actually come to see
me
. Not to mention all of the naughtiness that had ensued right after him showing up. Anna's mood had increased as well, despite not hearing from Nicholas. All in all, it was beginning to look like a beautiful evening.
I perked up even more when I felt a vibration in my jeans pocket while we were at dinner. I slipped my phone from my pocket and looked at the number, it was Seth's. Anna rolled her eyes and absently looked at the front of her phone, willing a phone call, as I answered. "Hello?" I tried to sound smoldering but instead sounded a little too manly.
Surprisingly, Seth didn't laugh, "Hi."
I waited for him to initiate conversation. After all,
he
had called
me.
"It's Seth."
Duh. I stifled a laugh as he had but couldn't help the smile, hearing him say his own name. "Hi."
"How are you doing?"
"Good. You?" Enough inane chit-chatter.
"Not too good." He paused. It was true; I could hear him holding his breath on the other line.
"What's the matter? Are you sick?"
"Yeah." Anna looked at me puzzled across the dinner table and I motioned that I would need a minute. I stood from the booth and began my walk out into the chilly Portland night. Outside I had much more privacy and I could hear better.
"What's wrong?"
"I think it's just a stomach thing." He paused again. When I opened my mouth to speak I heard him make a pained sound.
"Do you need some help?" Another sharp intake of breath made me concerned. It was ridiculous, I barely knew this guy and already I was playing panicky girlfriend. I closed my eyes and shook my head at my typical girlie response.
"No, I-" Another sharp intake of breath, "hold on."
I heard the phone drop and a deep retching noise in the background. My heart skipped a beat. He really was sick. More coughing emitted from the phone and suddenly I wanted to run to his aid even more. I heard a sink run some water and another fit of gagging then spitting.
"Sorry." He returned to the phone breathless.
"You really sound bad." I hoped that didn't come across wrong. "Are you gonna be okay?"
"I'll be fine." He lied.
I sighed very audibly so he would know I was displeased.
"Listen." His voice was, interestingly enough, smooth, despite the retching. "I wanted to call you just so you didn't think I forgot about you again. Or miss me-" I finally heard a smile to his sweet Irish voice.
I grimaced, "I wasn't going to say I missed you."
"Sure, sure." His smile was still prominent in his voice.
"You didn't have to call me." I lied. Whether he was sick or not, I was very happy to hear his voice.
"Yeah I did. I never would've heard the end of it." He actually chuckled a bit. "Hold on." More retching and gagging came from the other line and I could only imagine Seth, disheveled as always, leaning over a toilet puking his guts out. I hadn't heard the toilet flush yet which must have meant he was going at this for a while. Or nothing was coming out.
I sighed. I was so glad he had called. Despite my euphoric high from earlier, I was beginning to feel the pit of loneliness creeping up on me. Just knowing he was still there and thinking of me comforted me, even though it must've been hard for him to call. Then it hit me; maybe he wanted that same comfort. Thousands of miles away from home, a natural reaction when being sick is to want to be babied by your mommy, and he was too far from her. He could've called anyone on the cast, though, and perhaps had already. I strained my ears to see if I could hear someone else, but heard only more of his coughs.
"Sorry bout that." He was panting this time. I heard him sipping something on the other end.
"Do you want me to come over?" I held my breath for his answer. If he turned me down it would be because he wanted to be alone. Not because of me. Or maybe he didn't want me to see where he lived.
"I don't think you want to do that." He placed the answer back onto me. It wasn't going to work.
"I could bring some soup? America's remedy is chicken soup."
He chuckled lightly again, "Ireland's too." He took a deep breath, obviously contemplating the choices. "I love soup."
I smiled at his response. So matter-of-fact, and slightly misplaced. Was that an answer then? "Is that a yes?"
"Sure. But if you want to leave, I'll under-" I heard him gag then end it with another hearty cough, "got a pen? I'll give you directions?"
I nodded, even knowing he couldn't tell I was and began my ascent back into the restaurant to order some chicken noodle soup.
The drive to his apartment was quicker than I had imagined. I felt bad telling Anna I would be leaving her, and she would be forced to spend a solitary night in the hotel room. She smiled sweetly and urged me to go when I said I'd stay, with no intentions of doing so. "He's sick. He needs you. And you'd be stupid not to go."
I left her clacking away on her laptop, an episode of
Spongebob Squarepants
playing in the background. She waved goodbye to me as I rounded the corner and slowly shut the door.
Seth lived only five minutes off of the expressway; approximately fifteen minutes from the hotel. I thought the drive would seem tortuous, but instead it flew by as I pictured my handsome Irishman scraggly, sickly, and unbeautiful. If he could look bad, then maybe there was hope that someone like me could actually have someone like him for more than just a quick fuck.
With my purse and a bag full of chicken soup cartons, I hesitantly knocked on the door. I wasn't disappointed. Seth opened the door looking like hell had found him. He was a complete opposite from the beauty I had seen this afternoon. He looked exhausted, but stood completely straight. His skin was pale with dark circles under his eyes. He was sweating terribly, and his hair was going in every direction, and finding new directions to go.
I scanned down his body. He was wearing a pair of gray and black flannel pajama bottoms that hung on his hips, showing off his pouchie belly and his hipbones. He had no shirt on, and based on the sheen of sweat glistening off of his chest and neck, I assumed he must've been really hot. So much for the chicken soup. His lips were pouting as usual and more red than they had been after kissing me. Despite looking like a wreck, he was still gorgeous.
"Hi. Thanks for coming." His voice was still smooth. He stepped back from the door, still unsmiling, and allowed me to step in. With him dressed in barely anything, I noticed how lean he truly was. His bicep was flexed on the doorway as his other arm hung at his side limply, but those were the only muscles I saw other than his shoulder blades.
He watched me as I scanned his apartment. He told me on the phone not to expect much; it was just a loft. Indeed, it wasn't much. The room was small, maybe 30 x 30 feet. In one opposite corner of the room from the door was his bed. It was a queen size, and covered in dark blue sheets and a blanket. It looked like he had been lying in it thrashing all day before calling me. Directly in front of the door were a couch, a chair, and a television. There too, had the appearance of an afternoon of thrashing. A pillow was against the arm of the couch. The kitchen was next to the door with a small table and chairs. Next to the bed was the room I assumed was the bathroom. It couldn't be good to be a starving actor. Despite being the star of the film, renting an apartment for a partial year had to jack up the prices high, and even the lead role didn't pay good for an unknown star.
"No problem." I held up the bag when I turned to look at him again, "I brought the soup."
His eyes followed the bag from my face to the bag. His eyes were the most terrifying of all the sickly attributes. They had turned obsidian colored. They sparkled at me, and despite the darkness of them, I could still make out his pupils.
He pointed to the counter, "thanks. I'm not hungry right now though."
His stomach was heaving from labored breath. He began gagging again after he shut the door. His hand went to his stomach as he leaned over putting his whole body into the cough. I set the bag and my purse on the counter and rushed to his side. He was on his knees by the time I had gotten to him. I brushed my hand over his back and he coughed. He was freezing, and the sweat that came from his back didn't help.
He stopped heaving and sat up slowly on his knees. His head fell back towards the ceiling. His mouth hung open just the tiniest bit, and his beautiful red cheeks were flaming from the labor.
I tenderly ran my hand, which I had thought was cold from outside, over his forehead and down through his hair. The sweat from his forehead offered a slick surface to repeat the motion. "You're freezing."
He turned his head to look at me. It probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to say at the moment. After all, he had nearly just coughed out his stomach. His dark eyes smoldered into me and a chill ran down my back. He smiled weakly, "so are you."
"I meant, you look like you're burning up, but your body is ice cold." I kneeled down next to him and dropped my hand into my lap.
"Yeah. I've been like that all night." He stared beyond me and looked towards the bathroom. I stood, offering my arms out to help him up.
He looked up at me, shoulders slumped from exhaustion. Finally he held out his hand to me and struggled to get himself up.
"How do you feel?" I asked, again he looked down at me as if I had just asked an absurd question. "I mean, are you cold?"
"No I feel like my blood is on fire." I glanced around the room for some medical instruments that might indicate he was taking care of himself. There was no Pepto Bismal, no thermometer, no cough syrup, nothing.
"Fever then?" I suggested, more for information than comfort.
"95.4" Seth slowly moved his way to the couch and collapsed on the farthest side from me.
"That's awfully low. Should we take you to the hospital?" I hurried to his side and scanned the room again for the thermometer.
"It's in the bathroom in the medicine cabinet." He rolled his eyes at me. Did he really just roll his eyes for over exaggerating? "I'll be fine. It's just a bug, it'll be gone by tomorrow."
I sighed and headed for the bathroom to get the thermometer. As I opened his medicine cabinet, a rush went through my body realizing he was letting me look through his private things. Nothing was that exciting, mostly normal things, his toiletries mainly, but there was some over the counter medicine that proved he was taking care of himself- at least a little.
Then it hit me when I saw them. On the second shelf next to the thermometer was a small, unopened box of condoms. The thing was, he had never used one when we had been together the night before.
