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I hate my body right now, with every fibre of my being. I loathe feeling weak. I loathe anyone doing things I am quite capable of doing myself. Even Olivia. But as another wave of fever shivers, then burns, through me, I whimper into my pillow in feeble helplessness.
My throat becomes inflamed by the sudden change in air flow, causing my chest to revolt with wracking coughs that jolt my entire frame.
Three minutes of attempts at soothing my constricted lungs later, I’m able to take my first, half breath. I inhale several more as I feel a presence behind me.
‘Get away... from me... Liv!’ I choke out, furious that my life partner would be this stupid. Her expression almost breaks me.
‘I want to help... I...’ her gentle voice tapers off, knowing the lunacy of her own statement. Yet, her heart and soul yearn to comfort me, as she uses a knee to lean on the bed.
‘If you...’ I leave the rest of my sentence unsaid. We both know what I'm going to say. If Olivia becomes poorly because of me, I’ll never forgive myself. Especially as she is slightly older and has high blood pressure; one of the more vulnerable groups.
‘I’m not elderly, Alex!’ she snaps understandably as she straightens, her soft brown eyes heated for several beats. ‘What can I do?’ my love near begs as I ward her away with my hands, moments before they flop down onto the bed; my energy depleted by our conversation, my coughing fit and this God-awful illness.
I groan heavily into the bed sheets, instantly regretting it when my lurking cough resurfaces. I half-sense Olivia’s struggle as I try not to asphyxiate on my own saliva. I feel her hand on my back, causing me to instantly freeze, loathing my girlfriend’s selfless compassion and utter stupidity.
Once I’ve sufficiently recovered from my latest lung hacker, I risk turning towards her as my body screams at me for the movement. It takes me several minutes to catch adequate breaths to speak. ‘Stay away... for me... That’s what I need... you to do...’ I try again, thinking more of my soul counterpoint's health than my own. ‘Please!’ I beg. I watch Liv bite her lip; ready tears stinging her eyes. Mine would be too, if my bodily fluids weren’t all collecting in my nose and lungs. I wheeze in desperation as my life partner inhales a shuddering breath.
‘I can’t leave yo...’
‘You won’t be... Just in the... next...’ the word causes spasms to riot through my chest cavity.
‘Can I at least take your temperature one more time?’ my detective is as stubborn as I am. It’s what I love and hate about her in equal measure. I nod my head, not trusting my lungs to appreciate another round of hacking coughs.
Liv retrieves the newly washed thermometer and places it under my tongue. After the necessary time has elapsed, she retrieves it and looks at it, then me, quizzically.
’39.3°c,’ she breathes shakily. My temperature has risen from 38.9°c this morning. Shit! ‘I’m calling the helpline,’ she states with conviction as I try and fail to follow in her wake
‘No!’ I bark, before my chest heaves once more. Please don’t!
Liv steps back into our bedroom with her cell in the crook of her neck; her hands holding a cold, damp flannel which she presses down onto my forehead, avoiding my useless attempts to stop her.
‘I have a 45-year-old... relative...’ Homophobia is still rife in many states, so I don’t blink when Olivia swerves our relationship status whilst calling a national number. ‘... She has a temperature of 39.3°c, up from 38.9°c this morning. She has a hacking cough which is shaking the apartment blocks foundations and she’s (occasionally) finding it hard to take a breath...’ I raise my eyebrow, the only action that doesn’t currently hurt, as Olivia milks my symptoms. ‘Yup... okay... How about a bus..? ambulance? Yes... the Special Victims Unit, NYPD...’
Oh Jesus! You’re really laying it on thick! My cough restarts before I can think further.
‘Yeah... that’s her seal bark... Hear that?’ Olivia literally holds the phone out for my anonymous audience to have an earful of my beautiful pipes.
Christ, Liv!
‘Really?’ She suddenly hisses in shock. ‘There’s no..? Yes, but... No, she’s not struggling for breath right this...’ Olivia Benson is now pacing the tiny space between the foot of the bed and the doorway. ‘No, she’s not shivering or shaking uncontrollably, but...’ She's obviously interrupted again, threading a hand through her trellises as a frustrated growl tears from her throat. ‘No, she’s not confused or been feverish for more than three days...’ My life looks at her watch. ’13 hours and 28 minutes, 3, 4, 5 seconds...’ I gaze at her with renewed softness, shocked and awed by her diligence. You truly do love me, don’t you?
‘I love you,’ I mouth, thanking my throat and lungs for giving me a slight reprieve. Olivia is instantly distracted by my words. They’re still relatively new in our 3 month long relationship (20 year long friendship); neither of us wanting to be the first to bare our souls, our vulnerability. Stubbornness.
‘I love you more,’ she mouths back, warming my feverish body still further, before I concentrate on breathing and Liv her call. ‘Yes, her headaches have eased with painkillers...’ she frowns as the health representative minimises her concerns, infuriating the resolute detective. ‘Okay... so you’re saying that my... that my girlfriend...’ My heart explodes with pride and joy. ‘... has to suffer this for two more days before you’ll do anything? Yes, I know she’s not in the most vulnerable group but...’
‘Liv?’ I whisper hoarsely. ‘Just stop... for me?’ I plead, my eyes imploring her to stop her knight in shining armour routine and heed my, and the reps, wishes.
‘Okay, thanks anyway,’ she finishes with a slight edge to her tone before ending the call, placing her cell in her back jeans pocket.
‘You know... they’ll probably put our number... on a ‘don’t answer’ list now...’ I state aloud as my lungs revolt against me for the umpteenth time.
Liv leans down by my side of the bed, her hand coming up to stroke my cheekbone and jaw fleetingly. ‘I thought the NYPD part would...’ I daren’t speak, in fear of coughing up a lung. But my life somehow knows to stop, finally stop. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, brushing a stray wisp out of my eyes. ‘I just... I... I’ve waited my whole life for someone like you and...”
‘I’m...’ I venture, desperate to stem her anxiety. ‘... not going to...’
‘I know,’ she reassures me quickly, though her call to the emergency health number suggests otherwise. ‘Just, watching you go through this is the hardest thing I’ve ever...’
‘It’s... only been one... day... O...’ her beautiful name is stifled by another round of bone-shaking coughs and shallow inhales.
Olivia can’t help herself; she rubs my back again, as I strain for control of my rebellious organs. ‘I realise that,’ she retorts softly. ‘I hate that I’m helpless. That I can’t stop your suffering,’ she confesses, her hand still stroking my back, even though my cough has subsided.
‘Liv,’ I wait for her to meet my eyes. ‘How... many... times... do I...?’ My detective immediately understands, withdrawing her touch. She proceeds to stand, suddenly looking awkward and surplus to requirements. ‘For...’ I don’t continue the unnecessary expletive. My lungs forbid anything but the briefest, most economical of speech. ‘Chick... en... soup?’
Liv's face lights up at the request; my first in over 13 hours.
We will be okay.