***
Alex was gone for almost a month and by the time he returned I had myself completely pulled together. On top of that, I’d not only accepted Jason’s “break” was a good idea; I was thriving on it. I realized that without the pressures of a boyfriend who could be awfully demanding at times, I got a lot more rest and I got a lot more done. I had started my online classes. I was taking medical terminology and nutrition online. Those were the last two classes I would need to qualify for the program. I hoped to have enough saved up by the next semester to apply.
I ran into Alex occasionally and our conversation had always been light and easy. I still wondered sometimes why he never mentioned that day but Liz, always the voice of reason, had convinced me that he probably realized what risky territory he had dived into. I could have cried sexual harassment. I guess that I don’t think like a rich person, or a litigious one. He has to guard his assets because there are always vultures circling. I’m not a vulture, but after the ordeal he was going through with his soon to be ex-wife, who could really blame him for being cautious.
It was Saturday and I got up early because I had a nutrition quiz due by noon. I also woke up because of some amazing smells wafting from the kitchen, down the hallway and underneath my door. Liz was cooking. She’d told me not long ago that one way she dealt with her now five months of celibacy was by cooking. She used to be overweight because back then, she dealt with things by eating. She found out that she could deal with it just as easily by cooking yummy foods and just sampling as she cooked instead of eating a full meal. I think I was suffering the most for it. I’d already gained three pounds this month.
“Good morning. That smells amazing,” I told her, padding out in my robe and slippers. “What are you making?”
“I have the works,” she said. “French toast, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit and fresh squeezed orange juice.”
“You’re amazing. You’re my favorite roommate.”
“I know,” she said. “Grab some juice and have a seat, I’ll fill you up.”
I got my juice and sat down. Within minutes, my plate was filled with beautiful, fattening food. I picked up the maple syrup and began pouring it onto my French toast. I love maple syrup, I usually overdo it. That’s why I was surprised that as soon as the sweet, syrupy fragrance hit my nostrils, my stomach lurched.
I put the syrup down, pushed back from the table and all but ran into the bathroom. I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and began to heave. I was shaking and I could feel sweat beading up on my forehead and running slowly down the side of my face. I emptied my stomach and reached up to flush the toilet before almost collapsing back against the cabinet behind me. I was light-headed and I could actually see gray spots in front of my eyes. I’d never passed out before, so I wasn’t sure, but it felt like I was about to. I leaned forward and put my head between my knees while I let it pass. In the meantime, I heard Liz knock on the door.
“Hey Vicki! Are you alright? What happened?” I didn’t answer her right away so she pushed open the door. When she saw me on the floor she sucked in a sharp breath and said, “Oh my goodness, honey, what’s wrong? You’re so pale!”
“I’m not feeling so good,” I told her.
“Here, let’s get you up and back to bed,” she said. She helped me to my feet and I stood in front of the sink and brushed my teeth and rinsed out my mouth. Then I mistakenly took a drink of water. As soon as it hit my stomach, I was hanging my head over the toilet again. “Jeez, honey. You have something bad. Have you been around anyone with the stomach flu?”
“Not that I know of,” I told her, starting the teeth brushing process over.
“What did you eat last night?”
“Just the pasta salad. The same as you.”
“Hmm, at least it’s probably not food poisoning. I had that once after eating some bad salmon. That was the worst. It was even worse because my periods were spotty back then and I thought I was pregnant.” I saw the question in her eyes before she asked it. I was trying to do the math in my own head. When was my last menstrual cycle? Oh damn!
“I’m not pregnant,” I said, too quickly.
“Did you and Jason use protection?”
“Not condoms, but I was on the pill. We both got tested regularly for STD’s. Jason hated condoms.”
“Did you remember to take them every day?”
“Yes Liz. I’m not pregnant. It’s the flu.”
She seemed to accept that and said, “Okay honey, let’s get you to bed.”