18

Chapter 18

It's been a week since Richard banned me from doing any work and I feel like my brain had already decayed from the lack of activity. All I ever did was eat, read, sleep, and repeat. I even finished reading the book that we purchased from Edith the last couple of weeks and I can't find anything else to do.

My wrist doesn't even hurt that bad anymore. By next week, I can remove the wrist guard and go on with my life. I got bored staying in my room so I decided to go to the garden and replant some seedlings. I grabbed my trowel and got a tray of peonies to sow in the foundation beds.

I heard a set of footsteps running towards me. "Ay yay yay, bossman Carl! What are you doing?" Luis asked me angrily as he tries to take the tray from my hand.

I held the tray tighter. "Why? What did I do?"

"You're hurt." he pointed at my hand.

"It's fine. It doesn't hurt that much anymore." I said.

"No!" he objected passionately which is unusual for Luis to do. "I will do that for you bossman Carl!"

Okay. He is acting a little suspicious. In fact, everybody in this house is acting very suspicious. Everyone is enthusiastically helping me like I'm a cripple. I groaned when I realized the reason for this behavior. Or should I say, who started this phenomenon.

"Did Richard put you up to this?" I squinted at Luis to get some answers.

"Ay no! Boss Richard has nothing to do with this." he denied but it's obvious from his reaction that I'm right.

"If you let me do this. I'll never mention anything to Richard."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

I let out an exasperated sigh when he continued to deny Richard's involvement in all this.

"Okay. Then no one will care if I would replant this beautiful flowers on the ground." I started digging in the soil as Luis watches me hesitantly. It's obvious that Richard asked all the staff to monitor my activities judging from the fear in his eyes.

He offered to help but I refused and asked him to continue with his task at hand. He was reluctant about leaving at first but he left me after I insisted on doing the activity alone. I finished landscaping the front of the house before five and so I had the time to tidy myself up before Richard gets here.

When I heard his car pulling up on the garage, I sat on the chair near the door to welcome him. As soon as he turned the lights on, I spoke which startled him.

"Have you seen the lovely flowers by the house?"

"What?" He sounded utterly perplexed.

"I planted them," I proudly informed him, "all on my own."

"Why are you being weird?"

I stood up and approached him. "No I'm not! You're the weird one. Why are you forbidding the staff to help me?"

"What? Who told you that?" he tried to deny it but it's obvious from his face that he was guilty. He's probably trying to figure out who snitched on him.

"Aha! So you admit on making me the social pariah here."

"What?"

"What? What?" I returned the question back to him.

Richard raised his hand in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about." Pfft. Is that their script when somebody is on them.

"Do you think that just because I injured my hand means that I can't work anymore?" I asked.

"No?" He sounds doubtful but I'll take it.

"I guess that means that I'm going to back to work tomorrow. I am back in business." I declared confidently before striding past him with an unexplained sense of pride.

I slept soundly that night expecting me to return to normal by tomorrow but then I woke up with an inflamed throat. I immediately went to the kitchen to drink some water and I felt a slight pain with every gulp. No. This can't be happening! I pressed my palm against my forehead and my suspicion was confirmed. I am having the symptoms of a cold. I think I got it from being exposed in the rain for too long.

I looked at the time. It's still 4 in the morning and I woke up too soon from the slight body discomfort. I went back to bed hoping that I would feel better once I get back to sleep but I didn't. I started feeling chills while my body temperature started to rise up.

My alarm blared loudly, jolting me awake. I felt even worse than I had earlier. With a heavy sigh, I searched for a paracetamol and took one down before taking a quick shower. Today is a day I couldn't afford to miss. I made the commitment to go to work and with the looming quarterly review, there is no room for excuses. This is nothing but just a minor inconvenience.

As I completed my morning routine and made my way to the kitchen, my clogged nose weighed me down like a heavy anchor. I took my seat across Richard, who immediately noticed my ailing appearance.

"You don't look too well." he commented. I didn't have much energy nor the truth to rebut him so I just glared at him and he dropped the subject.

We ate the breakfast in silence while I endure the pain from swallowing the food that I can't even taste. I didn't have much appetite so I finished my meal early and continuously sipped on my water to replenish my fluids. I know that Richard senses that something is wrong with me but he wisely kept his mouth shut, unwilling to tick me off.

Nausea washed over me and the room feels like it's spinning around. With each passing moment, my condition deteriorated. Cold sweat started to form on my forehead.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Richard asked me again but I felt a pressure building up on my stomach. I dashed back to my room in a desperate sprint as I feel an unpleasant metallic taste  burn down my throat. The next thing I knew, I was retching in my own bathroom and it was the only thing that you can hear in the air.

A familiar hand reached out to massage my trembling back gently in an attempt to soothe my convulsing body as it purged itself of everything I had eaten earlier. I hated the bitter and acrid feeling that my body was experiencing but I had no choice but to endure it until I was left weak and vulnerable.

After rinsing my mouth with water, Richard continued to support me. His reassuring presence a silent acknowledgment of my condition. "You're right." I managed to say. "I'm not feeling well. I think I'll have to call in sick today."

He chose not to respond. No condescending nor patronizing remarks was heard from him. He simply continued to provide assistance until I found myself lying weakly on my bed.

He rolled up his sleeves and began peeling away my jacket, his fingers brushing lightly over my skin as he slipped it from my shoulders. After that, his hands moved with an almost hypnotic rhythm to loosen my tie before taking it from my neck slowly. When he started to unbutton my shirt, I couldn't help but react. I reached out and weakly clasped his hand to stop him.

Our eyes locked momentarily and we understood each other without saying a word. He withdrew his hands and left the room. A moment later, he came back with a pitcher of water. The sight of the cool, glistening liquid was enticing. He poured a glass and held it to my lips, the refreshing water offered an instant relief to my burning throat. As I continued to drink, his free hand tenderly he wiped the glistening sweat on my forehead.

He saw the blister pack of medicine on my nightstand. "I assume you already took your medication?"

I responded with a feeble "yes" and cocooned myself in the warmth of my blanket. Even though my body radiated heat from the fever, the sporadic chills coursing through me still gives me the shivers.

"Why are you still here? You'll be late for work," I managed to utter through gritted teeth, my eyes welling up with fever-induced tears.

I heard him sigh before his footsteps left the room. However, I heard him come back.

"I just called off work." he said. "And before you get upset, remember that we already had this conversation just last week."

I remember. He accused me of neglecting my own well-being.

"Fine." I surrendered and forced myself back to sleep.

---

"Carlton?" I heard my mother's sweet voice call me, pulling me back from the depths of slumber. I slowly opened my eyes only to see her gentle face filled with concern.

"Here, take a sip of this." she offered, presenting a spoonful of steaming soup. "It's my specialty."

With a determined effort, I willed myself to consume the warm broth. She continued to feed me, spoonful after spoonful until there's nothing left on the bowl.

"Very good. Now, drink your medicine and then rest." she said before handing me a small cup of liquid medication and a glass of water. I complied, downing both with resignation as I settled back into bed.

"I love you," she assured me, her voice a soothing lullaby and she kissed my forehead before tucking me in.

"I love you too." I whispered and I felt my whole body getting heavier like a thousand blankets was draped over me. I can't breathe. Panic gripped me and I reached out for my mother but the weight pressing upon me only grew heavier and the air getting thinner.

Then darkness enveloped me, and I found myself within the walls of an old chapel. The mournful strains of piano filled the air as the pallbearers solemnly carry a coffin to its final resting place. Only the front pews were occupied and someone stood at the lectern delivering a eulogy but I could hear nothing except the pounding of my own heartbeat. The weight upon my chest grew heavier, and I gasped for air, my vision narrowing.

In that moment of suffocating darkness, a young Richard sat beside me, taking my hand and offering solace while whispering words of assurances me that everything would be alright.

But after the service concluded, the mourners began to disperse. Everyone's leaving. I found myself alone, trapped in the dark, gasping for air. It was as though the void itself wanted to smother me with nothingness and I would cease to exist.

Somebody please help me.

------

I woke up and I was glad that I escaped that tormenting fever dream. My entire body was drenched in perspiration and my face wet with tears. As I turned to my right, there was Richard sleeping on a chair beside my bed with a book resting in his hand. He might have fallen asleep reading it.

It was evident that he had taken matters into his own hands  while I was out. A humidifier now sat on my bedside table, and an array of supplies – bottles of Gatorade, vitamins, and boxes of tissues – were neatly arranged within arm's reach. He had even thoughtfully repositioned the trash bin closer to the bed.

I wiped my sweat with tissue and reached for a bottle of water. I still feel delirious. I'm not even sure if everything's real right now.

Ever since my mother was gone, no one was left to take care of me except for myself. I learned to lick my wounds in solitary without asking for anyone's help. It's always been that way.

Restlessly, I tossed and turn with my body aflame with a fever that seemed to reach the highest possible temperature. The pain was unbearable and I wanted to erase myself from existence away from this pain.

Then, as if my prayers have been answered, I felt a gentle hand caress my the back of mine. My bleary eyes fluttered open to find Richard perched on the edge of the bed. I don't know why but I couldn't help myself from weeping uncontrollably.

"Why are you here?" I managed to blurt out between sobs. I resented his presence but more than that, I hated myself for allowing him to witness my vulnerability displayed before his eyes even though I prided myself from being able to take care of myself.

He whispered words I couldn't quite catch and began to stroke my hair with his fingertips. I looked away to conceal my tears and he continued his soothing gesture. I feel myself calming down, lulling me back into the comforting embrace of sleep.

And then it dawned on me. Maybe. Just maybe. Having someone in your life wasn't such a terrible thing after all.