“I care for you, too. I was so worried about you.”
He started to reply, but then a paroxysm of coughing shook him. When it subsided, he had a mouthful of revolting mucus.
“Here.” She pressed a soft paper into his hand, and he spit into it.
“You’ll cough for the next few days. It seems to be productive—you’re expelling mucus, so that’s good. I’ll get you some tea with honey. That should help. At night, I can give you a cough suppressant so you can get some sleep, but in general, it’s better to expel the phlegm, and I’m still hesitant to give you human drugs. I don’t know if they helped you—or if you survived despite them.” She stood up. “I’ll go brew the tea.”
“Could I get something to eat?”
“Of course!” Her face lit up like he’d paid her a wonderful compliment.
“That pleases you?”
“It’s another sign you’re getting better. I’ll get it right now.” She left.
His face split into a grin.I care about you, too.Those simple words meant the world to him. But would it be enough to make her want him to stay?
She returned with a hot drink. “Here’s the tea. I’m heating up alentil soupfor you.”
The soothing tea tasted much better than the syrupy stuff she’d poured down his throat. By the time he finished it, she had the soup ready.
It was delicious.
He tried to stay awake, but fatigue claimed him, and he fell asleep. He awakened once but saw Laurel asleep in her bed, so he rolled over and drifted off again.
* * * *
The next day, he felt much stronger, although still weak and shaky and prone to fits of coughing. However, he got up, and, under Laurel’s watchful eye, walked around. He helped her heat their meals, and they playedConcentration, an easy game due to his keen memory.
They played more poker, with him winning every hand. “Are you cheating?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“No.” He didn’t explain. He liked winning. It went against his nature to throw a competition. But he relished spending time with her, engaging with her, and suspected she wouldn’t play with him if she knew she’d never beat him at memory games. She taught him to play backgammon, and they tied, 1-1. But then he’d started to flag, and she was too, so they went to take a nap.
* * * *
“How are you feeling?” she asked the following morning.
He considered faking a relapse. He’d awakened, if not good as new, at least more robust and energetic. The coughing had tapered off, and he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. By tomorrow, he’d be well enough to leave. He did not look forward to his departure.
“Better. How about you?” He scanned her face. She appeared healthier, too.
“I’m good.” She paused. “You’ll be able to leave soon, I guess? Find and reconnect with your people?”
“Yeah.”Ask me to stay.
“Any idea when?”
He didn’t want to go. She gladdened his heart. Lifted his mood. Her smiles and laughter brought him joy; the most casual touch was bliss. She’d tended to him during his illness, and one of his biggest regrets was that he’d been unaware of her touch most of the time.
Although he feared dying, he’d go through it all over again, if it would buy more time with her. He’d rather live another week deathly ill with her than a healthy lifetime without her.
He didn’t know if he would like other humans, but he preferred her company over that of his own people.
But she didn’t feel the same.
“Tomorrow,” he replied.
“Your bag is packed and ready to go, but I’ll add some extra rations and some cleansing wipes.” She pivoted and marched out of the room.
