***
"Come, mon, time to move."
"Nee-yug," I greeted a large muscular man whom I supposed was Antoine, grateful for his firm hand supporting my back as he lifted upward and swung my legs to the floor. I felt sluggish movement enter my arms, as though attempting to lift weights in an underwater health club.
"Come now, you are about to be violently ill." Antoine bounced me pogo-stick style to the bathroom opposite the bed and dresser, aiming my head toward the open john upon our arrival. "The delivery will be on its way in a flash, mon."
Sure enough, with great predictability, the contents of a garbage scow rose up in my throat, exiting via my mouth and nostrils.
"See? Didn't Antoine tell you the truth?" He laughed and tipped me forward, rolling me gently from side to side until I finished off the final dispensation of offal. "That is some nasty output, my friend."
"Nee-yuk," I agreed.
"I give you some water. Rinse, then come see me."
Moments later, shaken but on the uptick, I stumbled out to the patio where Antoine waited. "Thank you," I whispered, wobbling my way to take a grip on the back of a chair.
"Steady yourself, mon. No food for quite some time for you, right?" He smiled and laughed mildly. "But here, this is for you. Chew this leaf like a stick of gum for three hours. Swallow the juices. I give you ten more leaves, then you feel fine." He held out what resembled a fistful of iris leaves about six inches long and, following the prescription that accompanied them, popped one into my mouth.
"Rather enjoyable, actually."
Antoine's smile remained in place. "Will bring you good health, you'll see."
"Spearminty."
"Miss Angel said to take you to airport. You choose your own path."
"I've already chosen it, my good man," I rallied, tucking the fresh leaves into the front section of my valise which sat upon the table next to my attaché. "To the airport it is, then."