#care-taking

Leonie struggled to swim back to reality, stuck in a hyperfocused haze of numbers and calculations. “What time is it?” She darted her eyes back at the screen and checked the computer clock. How could time fly by so fast?

“Almost 8:30 pm. When is your date?” Lisa took a step in the small, dark office. She reached for the light switch, but decided against it at the last second.

Leonie groaned, rubbing her face with both of her hands. “9:00 pm. I should just cancel. I’m definitely coming down with something.” She swallowed tentatively, and sure enough, there it was. A soreness deep in her throat, and a heavy, swollen feeling in the back of her palate. She’d been feeling under the weather for the past two days, downing orange juice every morning. She’d even tried a few fizzy vitamin C powder packets mixed with water, which tasted nothing like their advertised flavor.

“You can’t cancel again! He’s going to think you’re toying with him,” said Lisa. She took a seat in the hard plastic chair in front of Leonie’s desk.

Leonie hated those chairs. They made her feel like her body was a collection of sharp bones arranged just the perfect way to dig painfully into the plastic. A proletarian’s torture device.

“But Lisa, I’m sick! How rude would—“As if to illustrate her point, Leonie’s nose caught fire, twitching under the assault of a fierce tickle. Leonie sucked a breath through her mouth before catching a sneeze into the crook of her elbow. “Heh—TSHHiu!”

“OK, now you’re just being dramatic,” said Lisa, laughing. “Isn’t he a doctor anyway? He’s used to this kind of stuff. All you have to do is get through a one- or two-hour dinner, make a good enough impression for a second date, and you’re golden. You can work the charm later.”

Leonie grabbed a tissue from a box tucked neatly in her top drawer. “You just want me to go because he’s a doctor.” She blew her nose with one hand, blinking away the wetness in her teary eyes.

Sick or not, she had no desire to go. Her mother had arranged this date, which added insult to injury. Dating was too daunting for Leonie. Too many variables, too many emotions difficult to control. There was a reason she’d chosen to become an accountant. Numbers were her solace, a reprieve from her constantly brimming mind.

In fact, if she could choose right now between spending the night working on taxes, like she’d been doing for the past week, and going on a two-hour date with Dr. Vo, she’d pick work in a heartbeat.

“Come on,” said Lisa, her voice low and daring. “You don’t even sound sick yet. He won’t notice.” She cocked her head to the side. “If you can keep your nose in check, that is.”

Leonie sighed. Lisa was right; she’d already canceled twice because of work, hence the very late dinner date. And her mother would hold it against her if she didn’t at least try to meet the guy. She’d tell everyone in the neighborhood, including the cashier at her favorite grocery store, that her eldest daughter never listened to her and would end up alone, and did she ever tell them about this nice doctor she once tried to set her up with, and how much Leonie’s life would have been different if only she’d followed her dear old mother’s advice?

“Fine,” said Leonie, before hastily grabbing another tissue and burying her nose in it, her eyelids fluttering. “Ehh’NGXXT!”

“That’s pretty good! Just stifle them like that when he’s not looking. Won’t notice a thing.”

Leonie scoffed, wiping her nose. “Just a simple ‘bless you’ would suffice, Lisa.”

“Oh, bless you bless you bless you. Now come on, get out of here before you’re late!”

****

Night had fallen like a curtain and now draped over the city, dotted by street lamps casting their glow on the sidewalks. Leonie walked from spotlight to spotlight, readjusting the thin scarf around her neck. She regretted not choosing a thicker one this morning, and she especially regretted changing into a little black dress for her date. Goosebumps traveled in waves over her exposed legs with each gust of wind.

The wind was freezing, hailing from the last breath of winter. March had always been a moody, unpredictable month in New England. One day, spring almost veered into early summer, and the next, snowfalls wrecked havoc on the morning commute. No wonder Leonie had caught a cold. How was one supposed to dress in March?

Leonie felt a buzz in her coat pocket. Another text from her mom.

Mom: Ask him what he misses about Vietnam.

Leonie rolled her eyes. It was the tenth conversational tip her mom had sent today, all of them regarding something Vietnamese. His favorite Vietnamese dish, how to say “good morning” in Vietnamese, his thoughts about the Vietnam War (!), and other clumsy, Vietnamese-obsessed questions.

Leonie: I get that he’s Vietnamese, mom, but I don’t think he wants to talk about his heritage all evening. Plus, wasn’t he born here?

Mom: I’m just trying to help!

How had Leonie gotten to this point in her life? Single at thirty-four, going on a blind date arranged by her own mother, desperate enough to brave the unpredictable weather with a blossoming cold just in case the man turned out to be dating material. The probabilities were against her, and she knew it. Her mind was mathematical, yet her heart never listened.

Leonie sniffled as a gust of wind made her eyes and nose water. Her sinuses felt hot and heavy.

A pang of nostalgia and sadness hit her square in the chest. She missed her ex the most when she was sick. She had this crisp memory of him bringing her a cup of tea in bed when she’d caught a cold, right before they broke up. He’d chosen her favorite mug, the one shaped like an owl. After placing it on her nightstand, he’d lovingly kissed her forehead. One last shred of tenderness before it all turned sour.

It was over a year ago, and yet Leonie still longed for that moment whenever she felt vulnerable. If she were a superhero, this would be her weakness. A dash of rhinovirus and a cup of hot tea: her very own Kryptonite. Enough to turn her into a blubbering, needy mess.

Her phone still in her hand, she navigated to the contact list, as she’d done thousands of times before, flicking right to Mike’s phone number. She glanced down at it as she walked, knowing that she wouldn’t call, and yet feeling comforted that if she wanted to, she could.

But he probably wouldn’t answer.

She pocketed her phone, and instead fished a packet of tissues. Her runny nose had turned devilishly tickly. Leonie took a few shallow breaths, trying to hold in the sneeze while she fumbled with the tape on the cellophane. She stopped walking to focus on the task at hand, her eyes half-closed and her head tilting, as if pulled back by the tickle in her sinuses. Her fingers tore impatiently at the packet, but it was too late. She doubled over, sneezing uncovered towards the ground.

“Hehh—TSSHHiu!”

A passerby jumped out of the way, startled. “Geez, bless you!”

He continued on his way without waiting for a thank you, chuckling at his own reaction. Leonie’s face had turned lava red, her skin scalding from embarrassment.

A few blocks away, Dr. Vo probably waited for her at the bar & grill he’d chosen.

Leonie was five minutes late, Kryptonite-riddled, and ready for the night to be over.

****

This isn’t too bad, Leonie tried to convince herself as she took a sip of iced water, menu in hand. She was sitting in front of Dr. Vo, or Patrick, as he’d insisted that she calls him.

The fact that he wasn’t 60 years old had somehow managed to shock her. She, of course, knew he was in his late 30s; her mother had told her so, but Leonie still refused to believe that doctors could be her age. She always imagined them to be the good old doctors who needed glasses to write up a prescription, with their wrinkly hands and grandfatherly smile. She’d forgotten that she was now at the age where doctors could even be YOUNGER than her. How horrifying.

But Patrick was far from horrifying. Leonie looked at him over her menu. He had the kindess eyes she’d ever seen. His angular face softened the moment he locked eyes with you, his whole face alive in a quiet, yet intense focus. His black hair peppered with gray reinforced his calm and composed demeanor. In an emergency, Patrick seemed like the type of person to take control and keep everyone settled.

“Should we get any appetizers? You must be starving after working so late,” said Patrick, lowering his menu and giving her a sympathetic look. “I hear their mozzarella sticks are delicious.”

Leonie had to concentrate on Patrick’s lips to make out what he was saying. The bar & grill was packed with people. The buzzing of conversation had reached the noise level of a spaceship launch, rumbling through her brain and giving her a headache.

“Sure, that sounds good!” she said, trying to sound excited.

They sat in silence for another minute, eyes glancing over the laminated menu. Leonie realized that she hadn’t mentally prepared for this date. Not only had she somehow expected Patrick to be an old, almost-retired doctor, but conversation subjects also eluded her. She tried to form interesting questions in her mind, but the noise and a brewing tickle in her sinuses made it incredibly hard to concentrate.

“So my mother mentioned that you’re Vietnamese? Do you speak the language?” she blurted out without taking her eyes from the menu. The bitter taste of instant regret filled her mouth. She’d sworn that she would stay far away from any dumb questions about his ethnicity. Thanks, mom.

“I’m actually Japanese.”

Leonie’s heart dropped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, no, I’m joking! I’m Vietnamese,” said Patrick with an uneasy chuckle. “I apologize, I tend to make terrible jokes when I’m nervous.”

Leonie looked at him in shock, her eyes wide. And then burst out laughing. Patrick joined in, until they were both laughing so hard that people glanced at them from the neighboring tables.

The joke had been so unexpected, and the delivery so impeccable, that Leonie’s nerves had turned into uncontrollable giggles. And just like that, the tension between them disappeared.

“Your deadpan is amazing,” said Leonie, out of breath and almost euphoric from the laughter.

“So I’ve been told, but it gets me in trouble sometimes,” replied Patrick, back to his initial composure. “And to answer your question, I do not speak Vietnamese. My parents both moved here when they were young and spoke English to me. They know Vietnamese, but they didn’t pass it on to me, sadly.”

The waiter interrupted them, introducing himself and asking if they were ready to order. While Patrick asked about their selection of beers, Leonie sniffled, feeling the tickle growing more intense. A sneeze was definitely brewing. She picked up her menu and tried to hide behind it.

The burning sensation traveled from the back of her sinuses to the right side of her nose. Leonie itched a few breaths, praying that Patrick wouldn’t finish ordering before the sneeze came. She folded her index finger under her nose, while keeping the menu up with the other hand. Finally, her head bobbed towards her chest.

“Ehh… Hh! IIH’GNXTT!”

She gave a little sniff and let out a sigh of relief. With the amount of ambient noise, Patrick couldn’t have heard the stifle.

“And for you, miss?”

Leonie lowered her menu, looking up at the waiter in confusion.

“Anything to drink?” he said politely, pen and paper in hand.

“Oh! I’ll have a glass of Riesling, thank you.” She winced at how congested her voice sounded. She sniffled again, trying to act casual, and glanced back at Patrick.

Hopefully he hadn’t noticed anything.

****

The ice had been proverbially shattered.

Much to Leonie’s surprise, she and Patrick had fallen into conversation as naturally as old friends who hadn’t seen each other in forever. For the next hour, not a second of silence had a chance to settle between them.

The only interruptions came from the waiter, who brought them their drinks and a plate of mozzarella sticks. Patrick had eaten half of the appetizer, and politely left the other half for Leonie, but she wasn’t particularly hungry. At least the wine had dulled her senses, along with her symptoms. Patrick was also keeping her entertained, recounting stories of his childhood camping trips. Leonie practically forgot her burgeoning illness.

But shortly after they sent the waiter away for the fifth time, asking for “a little bit more time” to make a decision on their entrees, Leonie’s nose decided it was done being ignored.

She felt the telltale signs of a sneeze deep within her sinuses, but gave it no mind, focusing instead on Patrick’s story.

“…parents would let us pitch our own tent further in the woods…”

However, the tickle grew exponentially stronger, sending a shiver down Leonie’s back. She tried to quell it by pushing her tongue up her palate, but it didn’t make a dent in the sneeze’s progression. When she sniffed, the tickle sizzled like a splash of water on burning coal.

“…left the tent pole at the camp, but after making such a fuss with the parents…”

This wasn’t going to be a one-off sneeze that Leonie could hide behind a menu. Despite her eyes watering, she tried to maintain an interested smile, nodding along at the story. But she was no longer paying attention, her focus consumed by the ravenous tickle making its way down her nose.

“…shapeless tarp on the ground, and all sorts of nocturnal animals that…”

She could feel her eyes closing involuntarily, her nose scrunching ever so slightly. She had to act fast, but wasn’t sure what do to. Risk a snotty, sneezing fit in front of her date and humiliate herself, or interrupt his story and run to the restroom, making him think that she battled some sort of digestive trouble.

Ultimately, she just couldn’t trust her nose.

“…didn’t end up sleeping much, staring at the stars and waiting for—“

“I’m s—so sorry Patrick, could you eh… excuse me a second?”

Leonie grabbed her purse and headed towards the restroom behind Patrick, trying her best to act as normal as possible. Her lips parted, her breath hitched. She had almost reached the restroom’s door when the tickle took complete hold of her nose.

“EHH’NNGGXXT!”

Leonie stumbled forward in her heels under the force of the stifle, but held her balance. She prayed that Patrick wasn’t watching her right now, wondering why she’d left so abruptly. She pushed the door to the ladies’ room without glancing back.

She locked herself in a stall, rolling a wad of toilet paper around her hand while the next sneeze built up. Her eyes were streaming from the intensity of the burn in her sinuses, and she longed for some relief.

She leaned back on the stall door and gave herself fully to the fit.

“EEHT’SSSHHiu!! EHHh… TSSHHHH! NNT’SSHHiu!”

Leonie buried her nose in the rough toilet paper, catching every sneeze, but she wasn’t done. Mucus had loosened up in her nose and spawned another irresistible tingle. She threw the used wad of paper in the toilet and grabbed another one, rubbing her nose furiously with it. She gave a tiny, liquid sniffle, which was enough to trigger another set of itchy sneezes.

She breathed one urgent, quivering lungful of air and covered her nose with the toilet paper. The sneezes came hard and fast, riding on the same breath and leaving her panting.

“EHH’TSSSHHUU—TSSSHiu! TSSHH—Tssshh—Tshhh…!”

She gasped, and one last, powerful sneeze echoed in the empty restroom. “HEHH’TSSHHHIIUUU!!”

Finally, the tickle was gone.

Leonie blinked away the tears. She blew her nose a few times to clear her sinuses as much as possible, but the damage was done. The cold had now officially taken over.

****

When Leonie rejoined the table, a fresh glass of wine was waiting for her. Patrick smiled, but didn’t mention anything about her sudden escape to the restroom. Polite and considerate, no wonder Leonie’s mother wanted her to meet him.

Leonie took a sip of her wine, struggling with the throbbing pressure behind her eyes and nose. The restaurant had somehow gotten louder. Groups of people were laughing raucously, enjoying drinks and relaxing after a hard week. The lights had been dimmed even more, and music blared through the speakers peppered around the room, some fast tempo with a lot of bass. The bar & grill was turning into a club & grill.

Patrick said something to Leonie, but she couldn’t understand him.

“Not hungry?” he repeated louder, pointing at the mozzarella sticks. Crap. This poor man had waited until 9 pm to meet her for dinner, and all he’d had to eat was half a measly appetizer.

“Sorry, I’ve been working such long hours, I forget what it’s like to be a human being,” she joked. “But please, you should order dinner!”

“I would tell you that skipping meals is not good for your health, but I myself had to skip lunch today to squeeze a patient in… and then broke down at 7 pm and ate a sandwich. Or two.”

Leonie laughed. “What a great pair we make, unable to feed ourselves like real human beings.” She bit her bottom lip. Maybe using the word “pair” was a little too strong on the first date.

“Busy lives, busy minds,” he said, shrugging. “We always find a way to make it work.”

“Speaking of which, thank you for not giving up on me after I rescheduled twice.”

He chuckled. “Well, your mother had great things to say about you. I couldn’t pass this chance.”

Leonie almost choked on her sip of wine. “Wait, you talked to my mother directly? I thought this was a mother-to-mother kind of deal?”

“Oh no, she’s a patient of my partner at the clinic. He introduced us a few months ago when she came for her annual exam. She called the office a couple of times to make sure that you and I would meet.”

Leonie was fuming. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe she pestered you like that…”

“Don’t be. I’m glad that she did. I’m having a great time.”

Leonie blushed, unable to keep from smiling. It was too early to call, but she really did enjoy his company. She hated to admit that her mom was right, but despite her illness, Leonie felt comfortable around Patrick. Maybe she was finally ready to move on and share her life with someone new.

She shook her head. This was classic Leonie; getting ahead of herself. She’d met the guy less than an hour ago, and she was already imagining moving in with him and having kids. What was wrong with her. How about enjoying the present and the casualness of hanging out with someone for a while? Why did everything have to be so serious with her?

Suddenly, she longed to go back to the office and bury her head in numbers.

As Leonie took another sip of wine, she tipped the glass over her nose a little deeper, and got a whiff of the fruity, sweet perfume of the drink. For some reason, it irritated her sinuses. Her nose twitched under the glass while she finished her sip. She swallowed quickly, knowing a sneeze was impending, but she barely had time to lower the glass. It came so fast that she didn’t have time to formulate a plan on how to subdue it. She reflexively turned to the side and brought a loose fist under her nose to lessen the inevitable spray.

“Ehh’TSHHiu!” She kept her knuckles over her nose, embarrassed to sneeze at the dinner table like this, so close to food. Even if no one was eating it.

“Bless you.”

Leonie lifted her head to thank Patrick. He was looking at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes even kinder than before, which seemed almost impossible. Leonie sniffed and winced at how wet it sounded, further adding to her embarrassment. At least her nose wasn’t overly runny. Yet.

“How about we go somewhere more quiet?” said Patrick over the noise of laughter from a neighboring table.

Leonie nodded, rubbing at her nose. Patrick dropped a few bills on the table, and they filed out of the restaurant, avoiding eye contact with the poor server who’d tried taking their order about a million times.

****

As soon as they stepped outside, Leonie let out a sigh of relief. The night was cold and quiet, and the moon tiptoed in the sky.

Leonie welcomed the contrast. Because her ears had overadjusted to the loudness of the bar, sounds now appeared muffled to her. She always loved that feeling. It was like walking through cotton balls, enveloped by clouds and protected from the sharp edges of the world.

“The nights have gotten so cold these past few days,” said Patrick, rubbing his hands together.

Leonie nodded and took a deep breath, enjoying the refreshing cold wind on her face. Her nose, however, did not particularly like it. She gave a pathetic little sniff to keep it from running too much without alerting Patrick, but all it did was set off another tickle. Great, she thought. Nowhere to hide.

Patrick stood right in front of her. “Let me see if there’s any coffee shops open late around here.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “If you still want to hang out, of course,” he added, lifting his gaze from his screen to await Leonie’s answer. He then paused, studying her face curiously while she fought the tickle.

Oh to hell with it, Leonie thought. She lifted her index finger and muttered, “I’m sorry, I gotta sn—sneeze… hhHH! IIH’TSSHiiu!”

She turned to her side, sneezing in her elbow. A couple of small coughs escaped her throat as she regained composure.

“Leonie—“ started Patrick, but Leonie interrupted him with her index finger once again.

“H—Hold on… EHH’TSSHHiu! TSSHHHiu!”

“Bless you.” Patrick took a packet of tissues from his coat’s inner pocket and offered it to Leonie. “You must be coming down with something.” He said it with such kindness that Leonie’s Kryptonitis tingled deep within her chest. “As a doctor, I would advise you to go home and rest, drink plenty of fluids…”

Leonie took out a tissue from the pack and wiped her nose. There was a “but” in his tone, which immediately soothed her embarrassment at being found out so easily.

“But as I said earlier, I really enjoy your company, so I’d like to offer you a quick cup of tea before I send you home. Of course, if you really don’t feel good, we can reschedule.”

Leonie knew that the correct course of action was to cut her losses. End it while Patrick was still somewhat into her, and try again later. She could hear Lisa in her head. “You’ve got him in your pocket, get out before it turns ugly.” But then again, wasn’t he a doctor? Lisa had said it herself: he was used to this.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the low-grade fever creeping up on her, but Leonie felt daring. Almost adventurous, which didn’t often happen to her. She didn’t want to go home and lay in bed, feeling lonely. She wanted to hear more of Patrick’s stories and…

And get that cup of tea.

“I’d love some tea,” she said with a smile. “If you don’t mind all the sneezing…”

Patrick chuckled. “I may only be a family doctor, but I have stories that would make even the worst sneeze pale in comparison. But I usually keep those for the second date, so you will have to wait. Now come on, the coffee shop is only a few blocks away. Let’s get you out of the cold.”

****

Silence befell them at last, peaceful and comfortable. As they walked, Leonie listened to the sound of their steps on the sidewalk: a chorus of arrhythmic patters, one high and thin, the other low and full. The wind ran over buildings like a ghost, howling and whistling.

Shivers had started running up and down Leonie’s spine. Her bones felt oddly floaty, and her eyes burned. Yet her spirits ran high. Definitely a buzz from the wine, but also from her fever. She could feel it on her cheeks and her nape. Low-grade, for sure. She tended to run a temperature when she had a cold, and it always gave her a tipsy-like feeling.

She thought of Mike and then decided not to, mentally scribbling over the image of his face. She stole a glance at Patrick. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were fixed on the ground. Was he thinking of his ex, too?

Was this what dating would be like from now on? Missing what was lost, hoping to find it in a stranger? Jumping from one ex to the future other? She shook her head. Stop it with the depressing thoughts.

“Oh, what is this?” said Patrick next to her, stopping in his track. He was pointing at a small alley in which a wall was painted black and covered in colorful writing.

Leonie approached the wall. “It’s a ‘Before I die…’ wall! I’ve heard about it a few months ago, but I’ve never seen one in real life. You’re supposed to use a piece of chalk to write down what you want to accomplish before you die.”

Inscriptions of different styles and angles, sizes and colors formed a beautiful jumble of hopes and dreams. Some were simple, like “Meet my neighbors,” while others were more humorous, such as “Find Atlantis.” Leonie loved the deeper ones, like “Make the world beautiful,” “Be an Iron Man,” “Forgive and be forgiven.”

“This is beautiful,” she murmured.

Patrick bent down to retrieve a few pieces of chalk on the ground. “This may be too heavy for a first date, but…” He handed Leonie a purple piece of chalk. “What do you want to accomplish before you die?”

Leonie picked it up. “Right back at you, of course.”

They both turned to the wall and took a moment to think about it. Leonie didn’t want to veer in the overly dramatic, but she also wanted to be honest. What would she wish to do before she died? What would she regret not achieving once on her death bed?

While Leonie struggled with the question, Patrick stepped up to the wall, choosing a blank spot above the rest. Although he was tall, he still needed to be on his tippy toes to write in big, loopy letters: “Make a true difference in the world.”

Leonie felt a tug at her heart. “You don’t feel like you’re making a difference by helping your patients, and even saving their lives?”

Patrick turned to face Leonie, a few deep wrinkles on his forehead. “Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough, or not big enough. The world is so vast and my influence so small. I’d like to see if I can do better than this.”

Leonie nodded, touched by his honesty.

She sniffled, her nose starting to run again. She walked up to the wall and lifted her head to write her own message. She squeezed it in between two other big wishes, her letters small and neat, as if she were writing it only for herself to see.

“Find my place in the world.”

As Leonie started the loop on the very last “d,” the wind picked up and blew a fine dusting of chalk at her face. She finished her letter, fighting a fierce tickle. Her breath hitching, her nose flaring, she took a few steps back without looking. She inadvertently stepped on a piece of chalked behind her and stumbled back.

Patrick, standing to her right, instantly reached his arm around her back to prevent her from falling. Leonie straightened up with his help, but the sneezes were unfazed by the near-fall. She managed to turn to her left, sneezing in the crook of her elbow while Patrick still had his hand on the small of her back, making sure she was stable. Their bodies were so close that Leonie could feel herself leaning against Patrick’s chest as each sneeze pushed her towards him.

“HH’IITSHHiu! Eh… EHH’TSSHHiu—Tshhh! NT’SSHHiuu!”

“Oh my, bless you!” said Patrick as he held on. “Are you alright?”

Leonie’s fevered cheeks were blazing hot. “Yes, I’m sorry, I…” Her voice cracked and she coughed a few times, stepping away from Patrick.

“No need to be sorry,” he said, his eyes still filled with worry. “But you don’t sound well. And you seem really flushed.”

He extended his hand, but hesitated halfway to Leonie’s face. However, his doctor instinct seemed to kick in, and his eyes locked in an almost professional resolve. He placed his palm on Leonie’s cheek first, and then the back of his hand on her forehead.

“This isn’t very accurate,” he said, holding out his hand, “but I’m fairly certain that you have a fever.”

Leonie nodded, sheepish, as if he was about to scold her. A shiver wracked her body, both from the fever and the fright of almost falling down.

“You’re shivering,” Patrick said, looking down at Leonie’s arms as she crossed them over her chest. “Let me drive you home.”

****

“Do you need anything?” Patrick asked, one hand still on the wheel of his car. They were idling in front of Leonie’s apartment building, the vents loudly blowing hot hair to keep them warm.

“Yes, I should be alright.” Leonie stared out of the fogged-up window. She felt awful. As much as she didn’t want to end the evening so soon, she longed for the safety and comfort of her own home. Inviting Patrick up would send the wrong message, even if it was just for coffee. Or tea. “I’d love to see you again… Once I’m better.”

“I’d love to as well.”

Leonie offered a parting smile and reached for the door handle when Patrick asked, “Do you have any medicine at home?”

Leonie paused. “Hmm. I think I have some ibuprofen or something like that.”

“I can go to the drugstore and get medicine if you would like. What are your symptoms?”

Leonie repressed a smile. Maybe Patrick didn’t want to end the night so soon either. “Headache, a bit of a fever, sore throat, sneezing, congestion… I think that’s it.”

“Go home and get warm. I’ll come back to drop off the supplies and then let you rest.”

Leonie nodded and gave him her apartment number, then stepped out of the car. She made her way up to the eighth floor and into her apartment with an odd feeling of irreality. As if her mind was floating out of her body, the stitches unseamed. The fever played a part in it, but so did the absurdity of the evening. She’d never had a date so… atypical.

And she kind of liked it.

Of course, she didn’t like being sick, but it had triggered a couple of very honest moments with Patrick. Her previous dating experiences had been quite different. Everything was usually all surface, like the hard shell on a sugar-coated candy. Except she never had the guts to bite hard enough to get to the center, too afraid of what kind of rotten flavor hid inside. It was like playing an unwanted game of Bertie Bott’s.

She turned on the lights in her studio apartment. The place was clean, as always, so there was no need to worry when Patrick would be back with the supplies. Her bed was made, the sink was empty. Everything was in its place.

She kicked off her heels, feeling the cold hardwood floor under her feet. Shivering, she turned on the heating and fetched a warm sweater and some thick socks from her dresser. She caught a glimpse or her pale face in the mirror. She didn’t look too bad. A bit tired, but her flushed cheeks and her glistening eyes could almost pass as a fresh face after a ski day.

Leonie sat on her bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. She looked out the huge window taking up almost the entire back wall of her apartment. She’d chosen this particular unit because of the window. In the distance, she could see traffic on the highway, surrounded by city lights. At night, it looked like a river of scintillating rubies dancing in a field of stars. It was mesmerizing.

But somehow tonight, her tiny studio felt vast and empty, and she longed for Patrick to come back. She resisted the urge to fetch her phone and scroll down to Mike’s name once again.

Staring out the window, Leonie tried to estimate the number of rubies dancing on the highway. How many would cross the river in an hour’s time, a month’s time, a year’s time? She focused on the digits flicking through her brain as she counted. Soon, her eyes blurred, and she was lulled into a gentle slumber.

****

A knock on the door pulled Leonie out of the void. She opened her eyes, disoriented. Her skin radiated warmth. One look at her clock told her that she’d been sleeping for about 25 minutes. She tried to sniffle, but her nose was completely blocked.

Another knock and Leonie remembered Patrick. My date. Who offered to buy medicine for me, she reminded her foggy brain. She stood up and swayed, her body shivering as though the bed had sucked out all of its warmth.

She opened the door. “Hey.”

“I’m back, sorry it took so long,” said Patrick, examining her with an almost clinical intensity. “I had a hard time finding a pharmacy open 24/7.”

Leonie stepped out of the way, inviting him in.

“I don’t want to impose—“ started Patrick, but Leonie waved her hand, as if to put an end to the back-and-forth niceties she didn’t have the energy for.

“Come in and warm up for a few minutes at least,” she said.

Patrick walked to the counter, admiring the large window and the clean studio. He put down a reusable canvas bag who’d clearly been “reused” quite a bit. It bore the name of the state University, where he’d probably studied.

“Come sit down, you’re swaying,” said Patrick.

Leonie nodded and sat on one of the stools at the breakfast counter. Her head felt heavy and her throat was scratchier than before. Napping had been a terrible idea. She felt sicker and drained of all energy. Every time she moved, it was like a northern wind blew across her skin and made her shiver.

She watched as Patrick unloaded the bag. A box of cold medicine, some throat lozenges and a thermometer.

“I wasn’t sure if you had one of these,” Patrick said, removing the thermometer from the package. “It’s good to keep track of your temperature and see if the medicine is working.”

He slid the device across the counter towards Leonie, who took it and slipped it under her tongue. She took a deep breath and pressed the button, closing her lips together. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. She could not breathe through her nose.

When it finally beeped, she exhaled with relief and looked at the results. “101.1, not too bad.”

Patrick nodded. “But it’s enough to make you feel bad.”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted, tempting a smile. “But I’ve been worse, too.” Her voice sounded rough and congested. She got up. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Nothing for me, thanks. I should let you sleep. I just wanted to make sure that you’d have everything you need.” He looked at Leonie as she walked around the counter to join him in the inner kitchen area. “But you need to keep yourself hydrated. Maybe some tea?”

Leonie nodded, her heart fluttering. A cup of tea.

She grabbed the kettle on the stovetop and turned to the sink.

Patrick extended his hand towards it. “Want me to make it for you?”

Leonie hesitated, but shook her head. “Nah, I got this. Thank you.” She filled the kettle and clicked on the gas. The flame popped and she fetched her mug. The mug. The one in the shape of an owl. She dropped a bag of lemon and ginger tea in it and set it down on the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

A tickled formed in the back of her throat. She tried to clear it, but it turned into a small cough that she caught in the crook of her elbow. She winced in pain.

“I can check your throat to make sure it’s just a cold,” offered Patrick. He chuckled. “Sorry, I’m having trouble keeping ‘Dr. Vo’ from taking over.”

Leonie giggled at how embarrassed he looked, a first since she’d met him. A crack in his polite, controlled behavior. It was adorable.

“If you can save me a trip to the doctor later on…” she said before heaving herself onto the counter. The cold marble seeped through her thin jeans and sent another shiver up her back, but this time it reverberated through her nose. A tickle quickly formed, and Leonie held a hand in front of Patrick as he approached her. He stopped, confused, but understood when he saw her eyes closing and her nostrils flaring.

Leonie tilted her head back as the prickle expanded. Her knuckle reached reflexively under her nose to quell the irresistible, exquisite itch, but it only seemed to enhance it. Her breath quivered as she inhale deeply and launched forward, bringing her sweater over her nose just in time.

“Hhhh… EHHT’SSHHHiu!”

She kept her collar over the lower half of her face, her eyes still shut, feeling the tickle build up again.

“EH’TSSHiiu!”

“Bless you,” said Patrick, his voice so tender that Leonie felt weak. “I’m so sorry you don’t feel good. Hopefully it’ll be over in a few days.”

Behind him, the kettle whistled. Patrick turned and picked it up, then filled the mug to the brim and set it down on the counter next to Leonie. She stared at it, sniffling, trying to keep her feelings under control.

“May I?” Patrick said, his hands towards her face. He was tall enough that they were almost face to face. Leonie nodded. When his hands first touched her on either side of her neck, goosebumps traveled like a wave on the map of her skin. She closed her eyes, breathing in through her mouth. His fingers felt cool on her hot skin, and rough from overwashing. He palpated her neck symmetrically on each side, below her jaw, feeling for swollen lymph nodes.

It should have felt cold and clinical. Even embarrassing. But somehow, it felt intimate and loving.

Patrick’s hands went down towards her throat, always gentle. Leonie opened her eyes and saw a look of concentration on his face. His eyebrows knitted, his eyes following his own movements. Leonie bit her bottom lip and glanced at the cup of tea steaming at her side.

Her mind was a blur of emotions, attraction, neediness, nostalgia, desire. How could she tell them apart, how could she know what was real and what was Kryptonite?

Patrick grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight mode. “I’ll use this to look at your throat. Close your eyes so I don’t blind you.”

Leonie closed them, but as soon as Patrick turned his device towards her, the flash of light through her eyelids was enough to set off another tickle. She squeezed her eyes and lifted a hand.

“H—Hold… Ehh…”

Patrick quickly move the light away as Leonie turned to her side. She muffled a sneeze in her elbow.

“EHH’TSSHHHiiu!”

“Sorry,” Patrick chuckled. “Bless you. Better now?”

Leonie nodded, sniffling. At least the sneeze had cleared her mind a little. She shook her head and her shoulders, trying to loosen the fever’s grip.

Her nose behaved when Patrick tried again. She opened her mouth and said “Aaah” when asked. And just like that, the examination was over.

Patrick took a few steps back to give Leonie some space. “No signs of a serious infection in your throat. Some inflammation though, but that’s normal with a cold. Your lymph nodes are a bit swollen, so they might be tender for a few days. Like I said before, you need to rest. Sleep as much as you can, drink as often as you can. Don’t go to work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” said Leonie with a smile.

“I know, but you’ve been overworking yourself for the past two weeks,” Patrick countered, his voice stern with concern. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought you absolutely needed to go in tomorrow to finish something. I have patients like you. Hardworking and loyal. But think about yourself first for a few days, alright?”

Leonie nodded, keeping her eyes down. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Alright, I’ll let you go back to sleep now.” Patrick pocketed his phone and looked around the studio one last time, as if making sure everything was in order before leaving.

Leonie slid down the counter without a word and went in for a hug. After a split second of surprise, Patrick closed his arms around her small, warm body and pressed her back gently. “I hope you feel better very soon.”

****

Once Patrick was gone, Leonie took the owl teacup and emptied it in the sink. She grabbed a different cup, steeped another bag. Then, she walked to the window and sipped her hot drink, watching the rubies flow.

In a few days, when she’d feel better, she’d call Patrick to ask him on another date.

But in the meantime, she’d just drink her tea.

When Lan Xichen finally come to the pier, worry bubbles up inside him almost immediately. Jin Ling is crying so hard he’s almost purple in the face and Jiang Cheng looks like he hasn’t slept in at least two days.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen says and rushes forward, though he hovers his hands over Jin Ling’s small body, and Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, not sure if he’s allowed to touch.

“He won’t stop,” Jiang Cheng gets out and he sounds seconds away from crying. “And I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Okay,” Lan Xichen softly says, barely audible over Jin Ling’s crying, and then gently touches Jiang Cheng’s elbow. “Can I?” he asks with a nod towards Jin Ling and he doesn’t miss how Jiang Cheng’s fingers tighten on the boy.

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he only nods.

He truly must be exhausted to give in that easily, Lan Xichen thinks but then concentrates on Jin Ling.

“Have you been to a healer?” Lan Xichen asks Jiang Cheng who helplessly shakes his head.

“That’s okay,” Lan Xichen says, even though he’s not quite convinced of that, but he doesn’t say anything else and instead he starts checking over Jin Ling.

His stomach isn’t hard, so it’s most likely not a colic and he tells Jiang Cheng as much. It’s only when he gently moves a finger over Jin Ling’s face and Jin Ling immediately tries to stuff it into his mouth that Lan Xichen realizes what’s wrong with him, and he relaxes.

“He’s alright,” Lan Xichen immediately tells Jiang Cheng who throws him an incredulous look. “He’s teething, that’s all.”

“Oh. Oh, he’s growing so fast,” Jiang Cheng breathes out, and he sways on the spot.

Clearly the only thing keeping him upright was his worry for Jin Ling and now that that’s gone he’s ready to keel over at any moment.

“You need to sleep,” Lan Xichen carefully says, and he does not expect the desperate laugh Jiang Cheng lets out at that.

“He cries even worse when I put him down,” Jiang Cheng admits. “And I can’t fall asleep with him in my arms, what if I drop him?”

It’s a valid concern, Lan Xichen will admit that, but it’s not helpful right now.

Lan Xichen wants to offer to hold Jin Ling while Jiang Cheng rests, but he isn’t sure Jiang Cheng would welcome that, and Lan Xichen doesn’t want to ruin what they have. Like this, at least, Jiang Cheng accepts the minimum of help.

“Can you—would you—,” Jiang Cheng starts and it’s clear the words don’t come easy to him, so Lan Xichen just puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Anything,” he promises and isn’t prepared for the snort Jiang Cheng lets out but he sobers up quickly enough.

“Would you hold him for a moment? Just so I can rest for half an hour?” Jiang Cheng eventually gets out, and Lan Xichen tries his best not to smile too brightly at Jiang Cheng.

“Of course I would,” he gives back instantly and is very careful with Jin Ling when Jiang Cheng passes him the still screaming boy.

“Do you have a toy he can chew on? Sometimes that helps,” Lan Xichen asks Jiang Cheng who nods and takes two steps away from Lan Xichen before he comes to a halt, hands clearly itching to reach out for Jin Ling.

“I’m right behind you,” Lan Xichen promises him and walks closely after Jiang Cheng who finally leads them to his room.

Lan Xichen hovers yet again at the thresh hold, but he makes sure Jin Ling is in Jiang Cheng’s line of sight the whole time. Not that he could even run away with the boy, since he’s still screaming his head off.

“I have this,” Jiang Cheng eventually says and offers Jin Ling a little rattle.

The end immediately disappears in Jin Ling’s mouth as he tries to gnaw on it.

“He stopped crying,” Jiang Cheng breathes and slumps against the doorway.

“For now,” Lan Xichen says, because he knows Jin Ling will pick it back up sooner or later. “And you need to sleep,” Lan Xichen tells Jiang Cheng and gently pushes him back into the room, closer to the bed.

“I can’t—,” Jiang Cheng starts and eyes the inside of his room.

Lan Xichen knows Jiang Cheng can’t simply invite him into his private room, and even though he would prefer it if Jiang Cheng slept in an actual bed, he nods towards the hallway.

“How about we sit?” Lan Xichen asks and takes a step away from the room.

Jiang Cheng follows him as if he’s tethered to Jin Ling and when Lan Xichen sinks down on the floor, Jiang Cheng follows his example.

“One of these days you’re going to get permanent stains on your robes,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but Lan Xichen doesn’t mind that one bit.

He shifts Jin Ling in his arms, so that Jiang Cheng can put his head on Lan Xichen’s lap again.

“As long as you get some sleep, I don’t care,” Lan Xichen honestly tells him when Jiang Cheng puts his head down and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“I should be better at this,” he mumbles into Lan Xichen’s robes, and Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“No, you’re doing fine,” he reassures Jiang Cheng.

He wants to add that Jiang Cheng would be doing even better if he would finally accept some help from his people, but Jiang Cheng came to him and asked for help, so that’s progress already. Lan Xichen doesn’t want to destroy that, and so he keeps quiet.

Lan Xichen is pretty sure Jiang Cheng fell asleep the moment he closed his eyes, but he still starts humming one of the many lullabies he hasn’t yet shown to Jiang Cheng.

Jin Ling is still chewing away at the rattle, but he’s looking at Lan Xichen with big eyes as he registers the music and Lan Xichen quickly starts singing.

Jin Ling really seems to enjoy that more than just the humming, and Lan Xichen hopes he can keep Jin Ling occupied like this for at least a little while, so that Jiang Cheng might even get a whole hour of uninterrupted sleep.

He’s not quite that lucky, since Jin Ling starts to cry long before that, and of course it startles Jiang Cheng awake.

“Jin Ling,” he breathes out in worry and Lan Xichen puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Is right here,” he tells Jiang Cheng who cranes his neck to find Jin Ling.

Lan Xichen is worried to find that Jiang Cheng’s eyes are even more bloodshot than before and he seems more out of it, too.

“You should go back to sleep. It’s just the teething, he’ll settle down soon enough. He’s fine,” Lan Xichen tells Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng looks at Jin Ling for a moment longer before he turns his eyes towards Lan Xichen.

“You promise?” he asks, voice sleep rough and Lan Xichen nods solemnly.

“I promise.”

Jiang Cheng seems to fight with himself for a long moment but then he nods and settles his head back down in Lan Xichen’s lap.

Despite the still ongoing wailing Jiang Cheng falls asleep against Lan Xichen almost instantly and Lan Xichen very carefully does not prod at the warm feeling in his chest when he realizes that it’s because Jiang Cheng trusts him. That Jiang Cheng trusts him with Jin Ling.

When the disciple who welcomed him to Lotus Pier brings him a tray with tea and some snacks a few hours later, Lan Xichen smiles at him without stopping his soft singing. Lan Xichen bows his head in thanks but the disciple shakes his head at him.

“Thank you,” he mouths with a bow and leaves as quietly as he came, so that he doesn’t wake Jiang Cheng or Jin Ling, who finally cried himself into an exhausted sleep as well.

Lan Xichen sits and sings until his legs go numb and his voice cracks, and then he shifts over to humming again until his throat feels too sore to even do that anymore.

Lan Xichen holds his breath when he stops, but both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling peacefully slumber on—at least for now—and Lan Xichen smiles.

He’d be happy to sing for Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling for every day of the week, if it gave them peace like that, Lan Xichen thinks but promises to never voice that thought.

And of course, everyone else in the conference room was staring at her. Including Charles Brooks, handsome CEO of Empirical Press. Literate, piercing blue-eyed gentlemen, always dressed to the nines. Also known as Liza’s boss’s boss.

Liza sat up straighter, tempting a friendly smile towards Diana. “Yes?”

Try as she might, she could not replay the last five minutes of the discussion in her head as she usually could, a trick she’d learned long ago as a mother. The ability to temporarily filter out the incessant babbling of her daughter when she was younger had been critical for Liza’s mental health, but she had always been able to count on her brain to rewind when the child would suddenly say something odd. For context, of course. Because when your six-year-old asks “what’s a cock,” it’s important to know that she was just watching a documentary about chickens. And don’t ask why she was watching a documentary about chickens.

“If you would stop gallivanting about at frat parties every night, maybe you would have enough energy during the day to pay attention during meetings, Liza.” Diana shot a knowing look towards Charles, as if to say “kids these days,” but Charles didn’t notice. He was looking at Liza with a slight frown.

Liza stared at her notebook on the table, pressing her lips together. She was still getting used to the condescending “millenials” remarks from Diana. While she no longer felt the need to shout “I’M 40 YEARS OLD” in protest every time, it still made her feel guilty for the lie she was living. She’d forget about it for a few hours, and then something like this would happen, and guilt would rear its ugly head all over again. When Liza had faked being 26 years old to get hired at Empirical, she had never expected it to become such a big deal in her day-to-day life. It was a lesson in humility. Age mattered more than people believed.

And now, not only was she lying to all of them, she also wasn’t paying attention during a meeting where she was tasked to take notes. In front of Charles himself, no less. A true employee of the year.

“College students go to frat parties, Diana,” Kelsey said, her annoyance veiled in politeness. “Not working adults.” As a true representative of the millennials, Kelsey never missed an opportunity to correct Diana. Even though it was a lost cause.

“Yes, well,” Diana flicked her manicured hands in the air, heavy bracelets jangling on her wrists, “this is not the point. I’m expecting you to pay attention when I’m talking, Liza. That is what we’re paying you to do. Now, would you please tell us how many submissions we’ve received this month?”

Liza nodded and nervously looked through her notebook. “Of course, let me just…” She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the words but not absorbing the information. Her nose had started tingling, an itch that felt like the light stroke of a goose feather deep within her sinuses. She wiggled her nose, trying to keep a brewing sneeze at bay. All eyes were on her still; this was not the moment to…

“Hh—Ihh’tsshh” Liza turned to her right in time, covering her nose and mouth with her elbow. “Excuse me, I… Ihh’TSSHH!” She registered the few bless you’s her colleagues mumbled, nodding her thanks as she straightened up. Liza knew her face was bright red. She could feel the flush burning her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and squeaked a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that!”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Are we ever going to get those numbers, or do we need to send a request through Snapbook, Liza?”

“Snapchat,” muttered Kelsey.

Liza sniffled. “No, no need, I’ve got them right here.” She paged through the notebook and finally found what she needed. “We’ve gotten less than usual but I haven’t had a chance to log all the submissions this week yet.” She lifted her eyes to meet Diana’s annoyed stare. “With the two ad campaigns and the issues with One Day We’ll Be, I didn’t…”

“Just get it done by tomorrow morning,” Diana cut her off with a steely smile.

For the rest of the meeting, Liza focused her attention on Diana and took overly detailed notes, hoping to redeem herself for her misstep. She wasn’t the kind of woman to take her obligations lightly, and she seldom had moments of distraction like this. Truth be told, she wasn’t feeling the best. She’d woken up exhausted in spite of a full night's sleep, and her head throbbed just a smidge behind her eyes. She could tell that she was coming down with something, but hopefully she’d be able to make it to the weekend before it hit her full force.

When the meeting ended and everyone filed out of the room, Liza walked passed Charles on her way to the door.

“Liza?” His voice sent a shiver down Liza’s spine.

She turned around, hugging her notebook to her chest. “Yes?”

“Everything alright?” His eyes locked with hers in the way they always did. Charles had the type of gaze that seemed able to search one’s soul for the answers to his questions. It was in the way he focused all his attention on the person he was talking to, creating a bubble around them that separated them from the rest of the world.

Liza nodded. She mustered an overenthusiastic “yep!” before turning around and leaving the room.

If there was ever a man that made her feel 26 instead of 40, it was Charles Brooks.

---

Liza pushed the heavy door of her office building, spilling out into New York’s freezing autumn air. She followed a crowd of office workers making their way out for lunch, a chill running through her skin. In the scuffle, someone bumped into her and knocked her purse down, spilling some of its content on the pavement.

“Excuse you…” Liza mumbled, crouching down to retrieve her belongings. She suddenly missed Brooklyn and its quieter streets, friendlier neighbors and actual trees. Time Square was nice for a night out on the town or if you were visiting the city for a few days, but working in the district wasn’t always a thrill. However, she wasn’t here for the New York experience—she was here for the job. Books were her absolute passion, and if getting a career in publishing meant that she’d have to partake in a few elbow brawls on the streets to get it, she was ready to fight.

“Liza.”

Liza looked up, her lipstick in hand, balancing on her heels in a crouched position. She recognized the tie before she even saw his face. Navy silk, polka dotted. Once her eyes reached Charles’s face, Liza was already smiling. “Hey!”

“Here, let me help.” He crouched down to her level, helping her corral her stuff. Liza quickly shoved the used tissues in her pockets, hoping Charles hadn’t noticed them. Gross.

“There’s ‘rush hour,’ and then there’s ‘lunch hour,’” Liza said with a scoff. “I guess even walking is a hazard here.”

Charles smiled, picking up the novel she was currently reading that now laid on the sidewalk. “Murakami,” he said approvingly. “This one isn’t a favorite of the critics. What do you think of it so far?”

Liza’s eyes lit up instantly. “I know the pacing is a bit slow and the story can be repetitive, but there’s something about Murakami’s prose that keeps me coming back. It’s like taking a long, warm bath in the middle of winter, but on the moon. He always manages to create this sense of familiarity and warmth in an unfamiliar world and—“ Liza caught herself babbling away, the words tumbling out at high speeds. “Sorry, you must have somewhere to be! Don’t let me hold you back.”

Charles chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corner. His laughed matched his well-mannered behavior, a controlled but sexy huff with just enough sincerity to send sparkles through Liza’s stomach. He stood up, then offered his hand to help Liza up. She took it, noticing the warmth of it against her freezing hand.

The wind picked up, slipping through Liza’s open coat. She shivered, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest. Charles’s smile faltered. “You should bundle up, it’s getting colder every day.” He glanced back towards the street. “My taxi is here. Why don’t you share it with me. We can drop you off wherever you need to go.”

“Oh no, thank you, but I could use the walk. The cold will help wake me up.” She smiled. “Better than caffeine!” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did need to wake up, but she wasn’t particularly happy to be in the cold right now. Her entire body seemed to revolt against the temperature change. However, her nose had started to run and tickle, and she did not want to blow it in front of Charles in the back of a taxi. The sheer idea of it was mortifying.

“You sure?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow. She was doing a poor job of keeping her body from shaking.

“Yep! I just need to start walking to warm up.” She gave him a dismissive wave. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright then.” Charles nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

Liza watched him walk to his taxi, his trench coat and gray scarf flapping in the wind. A sudden, sharp prickle caused her to gasp and pitch her head forward into her hands. “Hh—Iiih’TSSHH!” She fished around her purse for a new tissue and dabbed at her nose, groaning. The virus had definitely taken hold.

At least Charles hadn’t been there to witness it.

---

Liza moved to the back of the elevator, balancing a tray of drinks and a paper bag containing her lunch. She’d picked up Diana’s green juice and green smoothie, as requested. “Everyone is spreading their disgusting little germs everywhere in this office,” Diana had told Liza with a repulsed moue. “I don’t have time to get sick. Get me my green juices, double shots.” Ironic, since Liza herself was sick, although Diana didn’t know yet. And Liza intended on keeping it that way. She didn’t want to be sent home and look like an unreliable assistant who keeled over at the first sign of a sniffle. She’d been through much worse than this. Back in the days, she’d be taking care of the kid, cleaning the house, making dinner, setting up doctor appointments and taking care of her sick husband—now ex-husband—while battling her own raging fever.

Liza looked at the third drink in the cup tray—her own. She would have preferred a simple cup of chamomile tea with honey, the remedy she could always count on when sick, but the line at the juice bar had been so long that she’d run out of time. The cashier had recommended a "Detox Elixir" for her cold. Apple cider vinegar, ginger, lemon and cayenne pepper. The dirty yellow muddied drink didn’t look (or smell) appetizing whatsoever. Liza hoped that the sandwich she’d also picked up would help wash the drink down, but she wasn’t holding her breath. She’d watched the employee make it. It was 90% alfalfa sprouts, 5% avocado and 5% dry toasted bread made entirely of nuts. Good thing she wasn’t too hungry anyway.

Walking in the cold had made Liza’s nose even more runny, but she couldn’t wipe it since both of her hands were occupied. She sniffled quietly, trying to ignore people glancing at her when she did so. Every time the elevator stopped at a floor, people squeezed towards the back, forcing Liza into the wall. It was starting to get hot and uncomfortable in there.

And of course, that was when a tickle decided to blossom. Liza scrunched up her nose, hiding behind the to-go cups, but it didn’t even slow down the progression of the itch. It spread all the way down to the tip of her nose, until she could no longer fight it. She promptly shoved the paper bag in her mouth to free her hand and fetch a tissue, but there was no time. With her hand stuck in her purse and her other hand holding the drinks, she bit down hard on the paper bag and turned towards the wall, stifling her sneeze as much as possible.

“Hh—Ihh’Hnxch!... Hh’Hnxch!”

A few people blessed her, and the guy standing next to her chuckled when he saw her struggling with the bag in her mouth. “Cold season, uh?” he said with a compassionate tone. Meanwhile, there was an evident shift in the crowd as people tried to distance themselves from Liza.

Liza managed to get a tissue and wipe her nose, then grabbed the bag out of her mouth. “You’d think I have Ebola,” she mumbled to the man, nodding towards people now a few steps away from her. Some of them turned to glare at her. Oops.

When the elevator finally dinged on her floor, Liza made her way out, welcoming open spaces, fresh air and a little breeze on her sweaty skin. She dropped off her coat at her desk, checking to see if Diana was busy. The elegant woman sat in her glass office, concentrating on her computer monitor. She hadn’t yet noticed Liza.

Liza quickly grabbed a compact mirror from her purse to see how bad she looked. Her nose was bright red and her cheeks were flushed, but she could blame it on the cold wind. She sniffled a bit, testing her sinuses. No sneezes were brewing. It was now or never.

She knocked on the door frame. “I’ve got your juices right here,” Liza said, placing the cups on Diana’s desk.

“About time,” Diana replied without looking up. “I can almost feel the germs floating all around me.” She grabbed the green smoothie and took a sip. Liza started backing up to take her leave, but Diana added: “I need you to find a space for the launch party of Bright & Wonderful. I’m thinking something young and bright, something…” She wriggled her fingers in the air, looking for another adjective.

“Wonderful?” proposed Liza with a smirk.

Diana raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. Very funny. Just reserve something 'hip.' I’m sure you can do that.”

Liza nodded emphatically, feeling the relentless tickle wake up again in her increasingly congested sinuses. Eager to get out before a sneeze manifested, she started walking out, but Diana interrupted her once again.

“I also need you to contact Mrs. McLure and find out if they’re done drawing the contract. We haven’t heard back from them and we need to lock down the budget for the campaign as soon as possible.”

Liza nodded again, her eyes watering.

“This is top priority, Liza.” Diana glanced at her. “Got it?”

“Mmhmm!”

Diana held Liza’s gaze for a moment, cocking her head. “Is something wrong?”

“No, n-nothing is wrong.” Liza could feel her breath itching, her face scrunching slightly. She had to leave. Now. “Oh, umm…” she gestured towards her desk. “I t—think the phooo…eh… phone is ringing.”

She rushed out, feeling Diana’s eyes on her as she ran straight to the restroom. Once she was safely inside, she grabbed some toilet paper from the roll and let the sneezes overcome her. “Ehh… Hh—Iiih’TSSHH… Hh—Ih’tsshhew… Ahh…Hhh! Hh—Iihh’TSSHH!” Tears were streaming down her face from holding the sneezes back for so long. She blew her nose and washed her hands, sighing.

The door whipped open. “You look like hell,” said Kelsey, stopping next to Liza in front of the mirror to reapply lipstick. “Rough night?”

Liza wiped some of the mascara that had run under her eyes. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Oh no, you can’t let Diana know! She’s such a germophobe. You won’t hear the end of it.”

“How am I supposed to hide this from her?” Liza pointed at her face. “I work three feet from her. She’s always calling me in her office. I can’t run to the bathroom every time I have to sneeze or cough.” Although she was seriously considering it.

“I got you fam,” Kelsey said with a conniving smile, slipping her lipstick back in her purse and leaving the restroom.

“Wait!” Liza cried, following her. “Fam?” she whispered to herself, wondering what the hell that even meant. Every day a new slang or app or “meme” popped up. Keeping up with it was beyond overwhelming at times.

Kelsey walked straight to Diana’s office and popped her head in. “Hey, is it OK if I borrow Liza for a while? I need help with invitations.”

Diana waved her hand at her without looking up. “Sure.”

Kelsey turned and gave two thumbs up to Liza. “Follow me!” They both walked to Kelsey’s office further down the corridor. Two large boxes sat open in the middle of the room. “I was going to have the intern do this, but she’s busy with something else.”

Liza looked at Kelsey, dumbfounded. “Wait, you actually need my help? I thought this was a ploy to get me away from Diana’s germophobia?”

Kelsey put a hand on Liza’s shoulder. “Come on Liza. All you have to do is stuff an invitation and a bookmark in each envelope. It’ll be relaxing! Please? Pretty, pretty please?”

Liza sighed. “Fine. But you’ll catch my cold if I hang out here all afternoon. I’ll bring these in a conference room somewhere.” Liza bent down to grab a box, but Kelsey stopped her.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Just take the couch over there. Relax.” She walked to her desk and grabbed a box of Dayquil from her drawer. “Here, help yourself.”

Liza popped two of the orange pills out of the packet. “If I had known you were the drug pusher in the office, I’d have come to you sooner.”

Kelsey laughed. “You bet. This is the good stuff, too. The one you need an ID for.”

“Impressive!” Liza swallowed the pills, then sat on the couch, assessing the task.

“By the way, we’re going to this new bar that opened up in Chelsea. You should come! All the food they serve comes in edible plates, and you eat with edible cutlery. Sounds terrible, but Lauren really wants to check it out.”

Liza scoffed and pointed at her nose. “With this? No thanks.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes. “It’s just a cold, Liza.” She leaned on her desk. “You’ll be fine. Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix,” she added with a conspiring smile.

Liza tried to remember a time in her twenties when she’d gone out with a cold, but couldn’t. Truth be told, she’d always been a bit of a baby when it came to illnesses, at least before she had a kid. She always favored lying on her couch with a heavy blanket and tea. It was a great opportunity to rest and let the world run without her for a few days. Cozy up in the quiet corners of life for a bit.

“Thank you, but I really—“ a tickle interrupted her. She lifted a finger, her eyes fluttering. Kelsey was already on it, handing her a box of tissues. Liza grabbed one and muffled her sneezes in it. “Hh… Iihh'mpphhff! Eh'mppff!”

“Bless you!”

“Thanks. I really wish I could come out tonight, but I’m going to have to stay late and work on the submission logs anyway.”

“Oooh that’s right. Diana was not happy about it this morning. Do you need help?”

“That’s so sweet of you, but no. You should go out. Enjoy eating… dinnerware. Or whatever.”

Kelsey grimaced. “Hopefully it tastes better than Diana’s green juice.”

Liza’s eyes brightened, remembering her sandwich and apple cider vinegar juice that she’d left on her desk. “Actually, I’ve got the perfect juice for you to try if you want to prepare your palate…”

Later, after everyone had gone—including Diana—, Liza went back to her desk to work on the submissions. She’d been working in the darkened office for a few hours, thankful for the quiet, but wishing she could be home in bed. Her cold had progressively worsened. Her throat felt like sandpaper and she’d started coughing a little to clear the irritation. Her eyes were burning the way they do when a fever is creeping up. She’d put on her coat to keep the chills at bay, but her bones still felt cold in spite of the warmth of her skin.

And her nose... The tickle had taken up permanent residence deep within her sinuses. She was constantly sneezing and blowing her nose, reducing her to a proverbial mess. Her bin was overflowing with used tissues.

“Liza?”

Liza froze, her heart stopping for a second. She turned around to see none other than Charles walking down the hallway from his office.

“Charles! You’re still here?”

He chuckled, stopping next to her desk. “So are you. I thought I heard something. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone. Working late?”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Liza said, or rather croaked. She plastered a smile on her face and subtly cleared her throat.

“Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.” He examined her, a look of concern in his kind eyes. Liza almost melted.

“Yep, I’m great. Just a bit tired, you know.” With her foot, she pushed the bin overflowing with tissues underneath her desk, away from Charles's view. “Heading out?” She sniffed. A sneeze was definitely incoming. Of course. She slowed her breathing, praying for it to go away.

“Not yet, I still have—“ Charles stopped in the middle of his sentence, looking curiously at Liza as the woman scrunched up her nose.

“I’m so—sorry— Ehh… Iihh’TSSHH.”

“Bless you.”

“Hh’TSSHHHeew!”

“Bless you again.” Charles produced a white handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and offered it to Liza. “Are you sure you’re feeling OK?”

Liza accepted the handkerchief. “Thank you. It’s just…” she shrugged. “Allergies, you know?”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll let you get back to it, but don’t stay too late.”

“Right back at ya!” As soon as she said it, Liza kicked herself internally. Why did she always sound so lame when Charles was around? He gave her a small wave and walked back to his office.

Liza groaned and let her head fall on her keyboard the minute he was out of sight.

“Why me,” she whined.

---

Another hour later, after many stifled, exhausted sneezes and careful wiping of her nose, afraid to make any noise, Liza’s head rested in her hand, leaning over her desk. Her eyes felt heavy, her nose on fire. Her progress had slowed considerably, fatigue taking over her cold-ridden body. She still had quite a few submissions to process, but didn’t know if she could pull through. She considered getting up to get coffee when suddenly, a steaming cup of tea appeared next to her.

She jumped, finding Charles standing over her.

“Ready to admit you’re under the weather?” he asked with a smirk.

Liza’s nose scrunched up, and she buried her face in the handkerchief. “Hh—Ihh’TSSHH”

“Bless you. I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m almost done,” Liza lied. “Thank you though. What is it?” She pointed at the mug.

“Oh, it’s just chamomile tea with a bit of honey. It always works for me when my throat is bothering me.”

Liza smiled. “That sounds perfect.” She took a sip, but her nose protested as soon as the steam hit her sensitive nostrils. “Hh… Hhh! Ihh’TSSHH! Ehh—TSSHhhhew!”

Charles frowned. “Bless you, Liza. You’re sounding worse and worse. I really think you should go home.” He looked at her coat, as if just noticing that she was wearing it indoors. “Do you feel feverish?”

“Oh no, it’s not that bad, I just—“

Charles didn’t wait for her to finish and placed his hand on her forehead. His palm felt cool and protective, tender. Liza closed her eyes briefly, his touch shooting a delicious electric buzz through her body.

“You're definitely running a fever,” he murmured. “Come on, I’m sending you home.” He took out his phone and tapped away. “I’m calling you an Uber. And that’s an order, by the way.” He said it with a hint of humor and tenderness, his voice as calm and poised as always. Liza just nodded, unable to say anything after his forehead feel.

She gathered her belongings and let Charles help her up. “Wait!” Liza’s head cleared up, and she remembered Diana’s request. “I have to finish the submissions by—Ehh… Ihh’TSShhh” Charles tightened his grip on her shoulders as Liza pitched forward with the sneeze.

“Bless you,” he said, frowning again, as if worried she would collapse from exhaustion. “I’ll deal with Diana tomorrow morning. Your only job right now is to get into bed and stay there as long as you need. Alright?”

Liza nodded. They made their way down to the lobby of the building.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Charles took off the scarf he’d worn at lunch, slung over his shoulder. “I noticed you weren’t wearing a scarf earlier today and thought you could use it to keep warm.” He slid it around Liza’s neck a few times, covering her bare skin. “There. That’s better.” He then pushed open the door and held it for her.

The cold air felt like an assault on Liza's feverish body, but she didn't care. Even through her congestion, she could smell Charles’s scarf around her neck. A mix of winter pines, soap and worn books. Charles opened the Uber's door, holding Liza's hand as she slid in.

“Thank you, Charles." Liza said from her seat, looking up at him. He glowed under the street light. "I really appreciate your kindness.”

“Of course, Liza.” Charles locked eyes with her, dimming out the rest of the world around them. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Charles wished her good night and close the door. As the car drove off, Liza closed her eyes.

She knew the dreams to come would be the best fevered dreams she'd ever had.