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~ December ~
Snow fell freshly on the ground outside the Arconia which meant several things. One, New York winter was coming once more. Two, Christmas was emerging every second of the hour. Three; Christmas music was only going to become louder and louder and played constantly until December 26. Four; For Mabel Mora it meant that the apartment she lived in was going to be cold. AF.
She grew used to how cold it could get inside over the years that she spent with her aunt and the last several years that she's lived there. Blankets? Check. Warm food to heat up? Check. Warm clothes? Check. So she was prepared.
Just not for this. Mabel found herself waking up at 3AM to her stomach churning too fast for her to get up and run to the bathroom. She puked onto the floor. Ironically, the spot where Bunny's blood marked and stained. A small amount lingered. Maybe the puke was to help? "God, I am not eating Dimas' Dip ever again, no matter how much Oliver tells me its safe to eat." She muttered. She ran to the bathroom and chucked her head over the toilet bowl and waited. Nope, nothing now. Maybe it was the dip.
An hour later she puked again. This time her throat was sore. It had to be from the puking of course. And this sweat? Clearly it was just too warm to wear heavy pajamas and two thick blankets over herself.
~ 14 C ~
~ 11 AM ~
"Charles!" Oliver banged on Charles door a few times. "You don't have a social life so I know you're home!" Charles opened the door not too much in the mood to hear Oliver before lunch time. "Charles, thank goodness you opened the door."
"What is it?" Charles questioned.
"Its Mabel."
"Oh God..What happened now?"
"She's not answering her text message! I sent her five memes and she hasn't replied to a single one."
The older man nearly closed the door. "That's the dire emergency? She hasn't replied back?"
"Charles you know just as much as I do that her generation reply back within a matter of seconds." Oliver chuckled but still serious about not hearing anything back from their friend. "Charles, I knocked on her door and she's not answering either. I need you to barge her door down."
"What!?"
"Please. Barge. The. Door. Down."
"I am not going to barge down a young adult women's door. Not this day and age. I'll end up on that crime show." Charles told him. "I'll have to explain in our own podcast about why I had to barge down Mabel's door."
"I do it but my body is just so not...Built athletic. Enough to tear down a wall and break it like a Bond movie." Oliver explained in hopes that Charles would follow. "Please?"
"Fine."
~ 12 E ~
The young adult just needed to be alone. Just for today and then deal with tomorrow. She laid on her bed in a mix of everything going on around her. She had a long sleeve sweater on to keep warm from the cold but had on pajama shorts because she felt so humid and hot. She was hungry but her stomach wouldn't let her eat anything and she, for once, was not prepared and did not have Tylenol, ibuprofen or even pamprin. She's been dealing with back-to-back murders and so she clearly forgot to find time to get to the local store and pick up anything.
"Ugh. This can not get worst." *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK* "Fuck!"
"Mabel! It's Oliver and Charles, are you home?" Oliver's theater director voice called from the other side of the door. "I have to show you something cool I found online!"
"If I just keep quiet than I'm sure they will leave me alone."
"It's a video! I heard it's cool! We should watch it together!" Nope, won't fall for it. "It's called Two Girls, One Cup!" Mabel sat up in seconds with widen eyes. No one, not even those two old guys, should have to have nightmares of that video she was tricked to watch!
"NO!" She yelled as she ran to the door. "DON'T WATCH IT!" She pulled opened her door to see both guys standing there. Neither with a phone out. "What the fuck?"
"See Oliver, I told you she'd open the door to that." Charles laughed as Oliver joined in. "I heard that video is a real scream of joy for teens and younger adults."
"We have to watch it for real sometime." Oliver said as he made his way into the apartment. "Mabel it is FREEZING in here! The arctic is warmer."
"Global Warming, Oliver." Charles chimed in. "We hadn't heard from you all day so we wanted to check in...Are you okay?" She looked like she just rolled out of bed. "It is cold in here!"
"Yeah, I'm used to i—ACHOO!" She sneezed into her sleeve. Stuffy in her nose and a sore throat that itched she finished her sentence. "It."
"Well clearly you aren't well." Oliver made his way to her. Without a moment to think he placed his hand over her forehead. "Yep, a fever."
"It's been, like, five seconds you weirdo."
"Sore throat too."
"I sing in the shower like Mother Nun in Sound of Music." There goes the sarcasm.
"And you have very adorable pajama shorts on. Red flannel suites you well."
"So?"
"Well only a small percent of woman can wear red without it coming off as being a hooker." Oliver explained. "See back in the forties, as I know from a period piece I did in summer of 2001, women who donned red lipstick were known to be powerful. It was a symbol of turning from girl to woman—"
"Ugh with that comment." She groaned. "Look I'm fine I just need to be—ACHOO! ACHOO! ACHOO!" She nearly fell over with that last one. Charles had caught her and pulled her back up. "Alone."
"Oh you are funny. No, Charles, go look in the pantry for any soup and onions."
"Who put you in charge?"
"I know how to cure a fever."
"Its not a fever."
"Yes it is. I know a fever when I see one, Mabel. You're cold so you have the long sleeve pajama top on and piles of duvets."
"It's fucking cold in here."
"But the pajama shorts? That can only be due to some sort of hotness you are having and need to control something without burning up. Have you eaten at all? No, clearly not. I can hear your stomach."
"God it's like he's a doctor. Like Google. Why do kids believe in Google for medical expertise?"
Mabel looked between the two, unimpressed, as they went back and forth between Google, Mayo Clinic, legit doctors, nurse practitioners and wikipedia. God this headache was growing intense by the second. The brunette turned to her door and opened it again. "Guys, get out please."
"You are such a comedian, you know that?" Oliver laughed. Oliver went behind her and pushed her away. Sort of easy since she was weak (He felt it in her muscles against her skin) and pushed her towards her bed. "Now you just get in that bed and make yourself comfortable."
"Oh how wonderful. A seventy year old man is telling me to get into bed."
"Men are the worst. Times Up." Oliver pulled back the covers for her. "What in the hell Mabel? Another fucking murder?" He yelled spotting a blood stain on the bed.
"Yeah. Of course." She said as Charles came over and saw the same thing. "My uterus is angry that I didn't get pregnant in the last 20 something days, so it's stabbing me as revenge.
"Oh, don't be ashamed. It's natural."
Mabel stared down to Oliver. "I'm not, asshole."
The rest of the day until just after dinner Mabel wasn't left alone for a moment. She was forced to stay in the bed with only permission to get up and use the bathroom and shower once.
Between Charles and Oliver the two men went out and got more groceries for her, bought menstrual stuff they believed she would use (Mabel preferred pads over tampons on day three, but she had plenty of pads for now) and kept as quiet as they could while she slept on and off.
When she awoke a little after 3, Charles had made her a bowl of homemade chicken soup. Still weak, Charles ended up spoon feeding her a couple of bites until she was able to feed herself. Once done she ended up falling asleep again with an electric heating pad that Charles used for his back. Again, on and off she slept until dinner when she found two bowls of soup.
"My rice and tomato soup or Charles cheddar broccoli soup."
"Well don't say it like that. You make it sound like you choice is better."
She blinked a few times. "Will you ever leave me alone?"
"Not until you eat all the soup." Charles handed her a spoon. "Come on, this taste better. His is from a can."
"How dare you insult this brand! They came out just weeks before World War II and they survived it when other soup companies failed, Charles."
Mabel ate both of them while the trio listened to another crime podcast on Charles' playlist. It wasn't the bed but it was new and seemed somewhat interesting. Mabel found herself falling asleep on her bed as she felt her fever go down and her body relax as day three of hell came to an end. Two more days to go for the young adult. But she briefly glanced to either side of her. One guy on each side. Clearly these guys had some idea of what was going on and they weren't absolute pigs like most old guys their ages (Rude comments about womens periods and how gross it is and how women can control them but choose not too. Fucking pigs). Charles and Oliver were pretty cool about what was going on with her and did what they could to make her feel better.
They were like her new Hardy Boys.
"Think she'll be okay, Charles?" Oliver asked when he finally noticed that Mabel fell asleep but with her upper body twisted one way and her lower half twisted the other way. "That has to be uncomfortable."
"She'll be fine. I heard young adults these days sleep like pretzels to make themselves younger. Something about stretching their muscles in their sleep can make them live longer."
The two cleaned up her apartment, left water and cough syrup on the bed for her, and then began heading out. "We should watch that video I found. Two girls, one cup. I heard it involves Reese cups."
"I like Reese cups."
"DO NOT WATCH THAT, FUCKING SHIT-HEADS!"