part 8
The next morning I wake up in my bed, very carefully wrapped in a blanket. Eric... he's the one who must have brought me here. He amazes me sometimes with his actions. It's amazing how he can take care of me invisibly, gently...
I get out of bed.
When I go downstairs for breakfast, I feel the pleasant aroma of an omelet. Eric is fiddling with coffee, and I welcome him with a joyful "Good morning.
The answer is a very hoarse "And to you"; Eric slips and stops talking. I raise my eyebrow, but I don't say anything.
We sit down and eat.
Erica's coughing, and although he disguises him for "choking", I don't believe him. Now he's acting like a little kid. I slipped him a lemon to his tea, saying he'd still have time to drink coffee.
I wash the dishes myself, trying to do everything to make sure that Eric saves his body.
He goes to his house, but there is silence in the house.
I hope he doesn't do anything wrong to himself.
I'm making him a morsel out of the berries we picked some time ago (the same ones I did freeze). A whole pot of delicious slightly sour berry drink is standing on the stove, and I can't help but sip a few sips out of a "test glass".
I'm going up to Eric's, looking at the crackle. The man is very busy with some drawing at his desk, and I don't dare to slow him down.
* * *
When I get back from work, it's quiet at home. I go to him. Eric lies in bed with a book, wrapped in a warm blanket, without a mask, and he looks very painful.
- Eric," I went to his place and sat down next to him. I look into his slightly flushed eyes and smile with a cheerful smile, stroking his hand. He had bad shadows under his eyes. I touch his forehead with the utmost care. Eric shuddered and wriggled a little.
- Y-you're warm-live," he says, knocking his teeth.
His forehead burns with fire.
- Eric, you need to rest," I take the book from the man, and he barely resists. Obedient, he leans back on his pillow. - Do you want something?
- Eric is fine," he wraps himself more tightly in a blanket, hiding with his head. I quietly dim the light of the gas horn, leaving it only dimly lit.
Eric coughs softly, shaking his whole body.
I pet him gently on the back and slightly open the window. I know he's chilly, but the room is incredibly stuffy.
- Stay here.
Beggingly gentle.
I don't think I'm going to leave.
- Are you thirsty?
- Yes, I do... - Quietly, but persistently, - do you dream of Eric?
I touch his hot forehead with my lips.
- How do you decide...
I go back to him with a pot and a glass.
Eric almost drank three at a time before falling powerlessly back into bed, still shaking.
I turn off the lights completely.
- Sleep...
He nods, coughing again.
Closes his eyes.
I sit next to him for a long time. Eric turns around restlessly, apparently trying to take away his headache, but there's nothing I can do to help him. It's only when he sleeps, curled up, that I carefully put a wet handkerchief on his forehead. I don't know how much it helps, but the man doesn't wake up for about half an hour, so I have time to sleep while I'm asleep.
After three, the temperature jumps up a lot, and the rest of the night I practically hold him, keeping him from jumping out of bed in his delirium. He calls someone, begs him to help...
This torture continues until the very morning when he finally falls asleep. Then I allow myself to fall asleep next to him - I have no strength to get to bed.
* * *
I wake up long before he does. Eric is wheezing in his sleep with his hot forehead on my shoulder. His fever has been a little bit asleep, but I can imagine how exhausted he'll be when he wakes up.
I don't want to wake him up.
I leave my bed carefully and go to my room.
We are not a family.
We are... I can say that.
Something has changed between us this summer.
I don't know what exactly.
When the tea and cheese casserole breakfast is ready, I go back to Eric.
He's asleep.
Fragile. Vulnerable. So strong and vulnerable at the same time...
I need him.
Eric turns around in his sleep, and I prefer not to disturb him.
* * *
A few more days go by quietly and calmly: Eric sleeps for a long time, sometimes agreeing to eat a little more and then going back to the dream world.
As soon as he gets better (i.e. he doesn't burn or wobble like a drunk), it's useless for me to keep him in bed. Eric goes deep into the work with his head, and I can only ask him not to go outside.
Contrary to my fears, his strong cough does not turn into bronchitis, gradually coming to naught.
I don't think Eric fully understands how worried I was about him.
And I'm fine with that.
to be continued...