“I knew this would happen.” She sobs. “I knew you’d catch it from me, and I—”
“Hey. Hey.” I put some space between us so I can fully look into her eyes. “Being able to hold you when you were so beat down was worth it. I’d do it a thousand times over. Don’t you forget that.” I wipe away her tears. “We’ll get through this. I have the hottest nurse in New York.”
My words make her smile, and I take a mental snapshot of how beautiful she is, even when she’s upset. Her heart is so big.
“Now, disinfect everything. I don’t want you to catch this again.” I suck in air, and it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
“Let me grab your inhaler,” she whispers, and I pull her back into my arms, wanting to hang on to her warmth because I know this might be the last time we touch for weeks. “And I’ll call Ryan too,” she adds.
We break apart, and I walk to the bed. “Seriously, take care of yourself, okay?” I demand. “Promise me you won’t overdo it, please. You’re still on the mend.”
Cami looks at me, wipes away more tears that stain her cheeks, and nods. “I promise, but right now, I’m more concerned about you than myself.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
CAMERON
While I’m no longer running a fever, I’m still not myself, but it's manageable. I'm not as tired, and even though the dry, unproductive cough lingers, I know I'm on the tail end of this. Thankful is the only way to describe how I feel because it’s been devastating for others.
Last night, after Eli went to his room, I grabbed his inhaler. He insisted that I keep it, but I wouldn’t feel okay doing that knowing how much he'll need it. It still burns to breathe, but my lungs are stronger than his.
I can't stop blaming myself, and while it's counterproductive, this is my fault. Eli came here to escape his inconsiderate roommates. Who would have thought being here was more dangerous? If I could go back and self-isolate myself for the first two weeks of being here, I would. Then again, we never would've gotten to know each other on a deeper level if I had done that, so I’m torn on how to feel.
After I jump in the shower and dry my hair, I move the small table from outside of my bedroom to his, then I go to the kitchen. Chanel rubs against my legs and meows as I place her favorite chicken and gravy food in her bowl. Taking a step back, I trip over Bruno, who's right behind me, and catch my fall. I yell at him, and he gives me sad eyes.
"I’m sorry, but you can’t stand that close to me.”
He takes a few steps back and watches me. “Come on, buddy. I’ll feed you the good stuff." He follows me around as I fill his bowl and throw him a few treats, then bring Chanel upstairs to eat. As they chow down, I realize I'm hungry too, a sensation that’s new, considering I’ve not had an appetite. Eli took great care of me, and I’m determined to do the same for him.
Cooking isn't my strong suit, but I'm thankful for the internet because I wouldn’t have known how to scramble eggs. I put them on the plate and decide I need to become more self-sufficient. There’s no reason I can’t teach myself and do more.
A smile touches my lips because I actually made something else without burning down the cabin. I load the tray with everything and some bottles of water, then carry it upstairs. As I'm walking down the hallway, I hear Eli struggling. His coughs are deep, and the wheezing makes my heart drop. Helplessness overtakes me as I frantically knock on his door.
"Eli," I call out. "Are you okay?"
Instead of answering, he continues coughing. I swallow hard, set the tray down on the table, and wait for him to come to the door.
Once he catches his breath, he says my name.
"Eli?" I ask, becoming more concerned with every passing second.
"I’m fine," he finally croaks out.
“I made you breakfast,” I proudly say.
"Thanks, baby." He sounds defeated. I'd trade places and experience being miserable all over again if that’d mean he didn’t have to. Though I want to go inside his room and be with him, I walk away. As I'm near the bottom step, I hear the door open, then click closed.
Knowing I need to keep myself busy, I disinfected the entire cabin again. After three hours of scrubbing, spraying, and wiping, I’m finally done and sweating. Though Eli told me to take it easy, I can’t stop obsessing about making sure everything’s clean. I quickly take another shower, then grab my laptop and try to catch up on the previous two weeks of assignments I missed.
Several professors emailed and asked about my health, along with some of my classmates. It takes a while, but I reply to everyone and explain I’m okay. Afterward, I go through my writing assignments and finish some homework that’s due at the end of the week.
I’m so distracted, and it’s hard to stay focused. Bruno jumps on the couch and rests his head on my thigh just as Chanel prances by and sits in front of the enormous window. The hours pass, and I try my best to make something for lunch but resort to microwave meals. I'm sure Eli will understand, considering my cooking experience. Dinner’s the same. He doesn’t complain, though I suspect he’s not too hungry anyway.
I text Kendall and update her on everything. The conversation isn’t a happy one, and she tries her best to comfort me as she listens to my fears. I’m so thankful to have her in my life through the good, bad, and ugly.
After I eat and get some reading done, I try to fall asleep but struggle with knowing he’s suffering. The virus attacked him quicker than it did for me, and I don’t know what to do. I text Ryan, hoping he replies and gives me a glimmer of hope, then I force myself to close my eyes.
The next two days are the same routine. I clean, cook, and worry. The worst is still to come, and I’m on high alert, constantly checking to make sure he’s still breathing.
On day four, I'm more concerned than I've ever been. The news only magnifies my anxiety.
Just as Ryan enters my mind, my phone rings. I hurry and answer.
"How are you?" he asks, sounding like he got run over by a Mack truck.
“I’m better. Not quite myself, but I’m getting there. I tire fairly quickly and still have somewhat of a cough, but mostly, I'm okay."
"I’m so glad to hear that. How's Eli?"
I pause and release a deep breath, trying to stay positive so my brother doesn’t notice how concerned I am.
"He's struggling, and I'm worried he's too stubborn to say he needs anything."
"How do you know?"
"He's gasping and coughing; the kind of deep cough that’s buried in your chest. He's using his inhaler, but it’s not helping very much. I’m desperate."
“If he’s rapidly declining, you should call the hotline and get him to the hospital. I'm not saying that to stress you out more, but to get him help before he progresses too far."
“I will as soon as we hang up," I say, knowing they won't let just anyone walk in and get tested. If I would've called for myself, they would've told me to stay isolated. Will it be the same for Eli, too?