"Cole?You okay in there?"Mom's voice calls from the hallway.
I rest my forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl."Yeah, just...give me a minute."
When I finally emerge, Mom takes one look at me and presses her palm to my forehead."You're burning up, honey."
"I feel like death warmed over," I admit, leaning against the doorframe.
"No work today.Back to bed."Her tone leaves no room for argument, and honestly, I don't have the energy to try.
I shuffle back to my room, collapse onto my mattress, and reach for my phone.I need to let Caleb know I won't be coming in today.My fingers feel clumsy and oversized as I type.
Me:
Can't make it in today.Sick.
I debate adding more, something about missing him already.Something about how perfect the weekend was, but my head throbs with such intensity that I just hit send and drop the phone onto my chest.It chimes and I look at Caleb’s text
DM:
I'm sorry to hear that.Need anything?
Me:
Just rest.Don't worry.
Mom appears in my doorway with some pills."Here, take these.They'll help with the fever."I reach for my lemon mio water and swallow them dutifully, wincing as they scrape down my raw throat.She places a cool washcloth on my forehead.The relief is immediate but fleeting.
"Thanks, Mom," I mumble, already feeling my eyelids grow heavy.
"Get some sleep, sweetheart.I'll check on you later."She pulls my door halfway closed as she leaves.
I drift in and out of consciousness for most of the day, waking only when Mom forces fluids or more medicine into me.My phone buzzes a few times, but I can't muster the energy to check it.The sun's position changes through my window, shadows stretching across my floor, and still I lie there, feeling like I've been hit by a truck.
By Tuesday morning, I convince myself I'm well enough for work.The fever's down, and though my head still aches, it's manageable.I need to see Caleb.The thought of him gives me enough energy to shower and dress, though my movements are sluggish and my arms feel like they're filled with wet sand instead of muscle and bone.
"You sure you're ready to go back?"Mom asks, eyeing me over her coffee mug as I stumble into the kitchen.
"Yeah," I lie, forcing myself to stand straighter."Just a twenty-four-hour thing."
I can tell she doesn't believe me, but she doesn't push it.That's one thing I've always appreciated about Mom, she knows when to let me make my own mistakes.
The drive to St.Mary's is a blur.Twice I have to pull over when my vision swims, the road ahead doubling and tripling like I'm looking through a kaleidoscope.By the time I park behind the church, my shirt is sticking to my back with cold sweat.
Caleb's face lights up when he sees me, then immediately darkens with concern.
"Cole, you look terrible."His voice is gentle but firm as he crosses the room to me, hand outstretched like he's approaching a wounded animal."You should be home in bed."
"I'm fine," I insist, though the way the room tilts contradicts me.I grab the doorframe to steady myself."Just wanted to finish the touch up in the fellowship hall."After Charlotte and the rest of townhall left, I had a whole new project fixing the damage left behind from all the heavy furniture they brought in.
Caleb's hand finds my forehead, and I can't help but lean into his touch.His palm is cool against my skin, and for a moment, the pounding in my head subsides.
"You're still running a fever," he says, his brow furrowed with worry."The fellowship hall can wait."
"I can handle it," I argue, pulling away from him even as my body protests the loss of contact."I've worked through worse."Lie.I've never felt this awful.
By noon, I'm regretting my stubbornness.The paintbrush feels like it weighs fifty pounds, and my arms tremble with each stroke.The smell of paint that I usually find pleasant is making my stomach roll.When I step back to check my work, the walls seem to breathe, expanding and contracting like they're alive.
"Shit," I mutter, dropping the brush into the tray with a splash.Paint flecks hit my jeans, but I can't bring myself to care.
