Chapter 4Becoming Better Alone

On Tuesday morning, I caught a cold.

My head was spinning when I woke up, and my throat felt like it was being cut. I took my temperature: 102.5°F.

I sent Justin a message: “I have a fever.”

He quickly replied: “Drink plenty of water, take some medicine, and get some rest.”

I stared at those six words for a long time, finally just replying with an “Okay.”

I lay in bed until the afternoon, my head growing dizzier.

I tried to get up to get some water, but the moment I stood up, my vision went black, and I almost fell.

My phone rang. It wasn’t a call, but a message from Justin:

“Sienna’s blood sugar is low, and she’s not feeling well. I’m taking her to the hospital, so I’ll be back later.”

I looked at this message, then at my own temperature, which had climbed to 103.1°F, and found it oddly ironic.

I made myself some cold medicine, took a fever reducer, and lay back down.

Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine o’clock.

I drifted in and out of sleep, the room quiet, just me alone.

A little after ten, I heard the lock turn.

Justin and Sienna were back.

I heard his footsteps entering, and his voice talking to Sienna: “You go to your room and rest well. Call me if you need anything.”

A little while later, he pushed open my door, saw me lying in bed, and walked over, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Cold.” I answered with my eyes closed.

“Has the fever gone down?”

“Not yet.”

He reached out to touch my forehead, but I turned my face away.

“Then get more rest.” He stood for a moment, then turned and left.

I heard his footsteps fade, then voices from the living room.

“Yeah, she’s resting… I bought you fruit and medicine… It’s nothing, you just rest well…”

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling.

He bought Sienna fruit and medicine.

But when I was home with a fever, he only replied, “Drink plenty of water.”

My best friend came to see me that evening.

Seeing my fever-flushed face, she swore angrily: “Where’s Justin? Where is he?”

“He’s taking Sienna to the hospital again,” I said weakly. “She has low blood sugar.”

“Low blood sugar?” My best friend’s voice rose. “You’re almost at 104°F, and he’s with someone else for low blood sugar?”

I said nothing.

My best friend poured me water and gave me medicine, scolding me while taking care of me:

“I really don’t know what you see in him. Two years, has he ever been good to you?”

I swallowed the medicine, so bitter I wanted to throw up.

“I don’t know either,” I said. “Maybe I just liked that he’s handsome.”

“You…” My best friend sighed. “Forget it, I’m tired of talking to you.”

She stayed with me until midnight, leaving only after confirming my fever had broken.