the american patient

I was asleep and dreaming.

"Becca! Becca!" Brandon's cries wrenched me out of sleep and into reality. Oh yeah, he's sick and I'm taking care of him.

"Wake up! You're dreaming."

Our bedroom is warm and humid. Germs hang heavy in the air. I'm almost afraid to breathe in there. But I don't want to leave.

In his half reality half fever dream he asks in such a small voice, "Are you cheating on me?"

A giggle escaped my lips. Very inappropriate.

"No baby, I'm not cheating on you. You're all the man I need. It was just a dream, go back to sleep. I love you."

"Who is Dave? The oil change guy? I was running. I was sick but I was running anyway and it was so hot."

Then we realized his side of the bed was drenched. I sent him to take a bath while I changed the blankets. The only clean blankets we have left are light blankets, so I give them all to him. The couch would be comfortable but I don't want to leave him so I try sleeping in the chair. I wrap up in an Incredible Hulk blanket from the kids' room. It fits me like a shawl.

He murmurs and tries to fall back asleep.

Eventually, I move to the couch in the loft. Its right outside our bedroom and the house is quiet so I should be able to hear him if he needs me. Indeed, I hear him talk and cry out my name several times in the night.

This morning he looks a little better, well, lucid anyway. He won't go back to the clinic. He says he just has the flu and it just needs to run its course.