“Eli,” I whisper. Panic and unease swim through my veins as my chest rattles. The morning after such an amazing night isn’t supposed to be like this. I wish we could have breakfast together, spend the rest of the day snuggling, and relive last night. Instead, I have to force him to leave me alone.
He exits the bathroom, and for a second, I think I may have gotten through to him. Moments later, he returns with Tylenol and two bottles of water. He sets them on the nightstand and glances at me. “You can’t get dehydrated. Take these and text me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all, even if it’s just to keep you company. And if you get any worse, let me know.”
I nod, wanting to lie down and cover myself with a pile of blankets. “I will. Thank you.”
Once he’s out of the room, I grab the thermometer and place it on the bedside table, then take the pills. The sheets are a crumpled mess at the end of the bed from rassling in them last night, and I try to fix them the best I can, but my head is too heavy. I’m scared of what the future holds, more than I’ve ever been before. I know Eli said he’d text Ryan, but I text him too.
Cameron: I think I have the virus. What should I do?
I don’t expect him to answer me anytime soon. Having a conversation with him the past couple of weeks has been difficult. My brother’s a goddamn hero, but I selfishly wish he were here with me.
Somehow, even though I’m restless, I fall asleep. My skin sticks to the sheets, but I’m cold, so I stay covered. Fever dreams capture me, and I wake up in a panic with a racing heart. I should let my parents know what’s going on, but I also don’t want to worry them. My mother gets irrational when it comes to her children. Considering my brother is on the front lines of this war against the illness, she’s got enough on her emotional plate to deal with. But if I end up hospitalized, the guilt of not speaking up would consume me. Before I call, I take my temperature again. As I suspected, it hasn’t changed.
She answers, and I know she’s smiling by how upbeat she is. “Hey, sweetie. Why didn’t you FaceTime me?”
I inhale a deep breath, trying to find the strength to speak. “Mom.”
“Yes, dear?”
“I have a fever and feel like death. I’m terrified.” My voice trembles as I try to swallow down my fear. I don’t care that I’m twenty-two and nearly crying. Sometimes, I just want my mom to comfort me and say everything will be okay.
“How high is it?” The concern in her question is clear.
“When I just checked, it was 101,” I say with a small cough. “I was fine yesterday, but woke up like this,” I explain.
She lets out a fearful sigh. “Can you get tested so you know for sure?”
“They’re not testing people like me with no pre-existing conditions who’re young and healthy. Only if they have to be admitted. They’ll instruct me to stay home, take Tylenol, and if things get worse, call the helpline,” I repeat what I read online a few days ago, then take a sip of water.
“Did you call Ryan?” Mom asks, alarmed. “Maybe he can get you one?”
“I texted him, but he’s swamped, so I don’t know when I’ll hear back. He’ll say the same, though. I’ve watched the news, read all the articles, and am aware of what the process is right now.” The line is silent for a while. “Hello?”
“Yes, I’m still here. I’m extremely worried about you. If you would’ve listened, you’d be with me so I can take care of you. I’d call the family doctor to do a house visit, and he’d get you tested.”
This isn’t the time for her to power play me or use our family’s money to get special treatment. I’m not labeled high risk and would feel guilty when thousands of other people are being denied. “No, if I would’ve stayed home, you’d be sick too. Me being at the cabin is for the best for you and Daddy.” I try to ease her mind, but it’s no good. She’ll lose sleep over this regardless of what I say.
“Promise me if your temp rises or you have trouble breathing, you’ll go to the ER. The nearest hospital is only a half an hour away from you.”
“Okay, Mom,” I concede.
“Cameron,” she pushes, not satisfied with my response. “If I need to drive there, I will.”
“That’s unnecessary. The entire place needs to be disinfected. I’ll go if things get worse. Eli is here and will check on me, too,” I reassure her, hoping to ease her nerves. We’ve been FaceTiming or texting every couple of days since I’ve arrived and when I told her Eli was here too, she had a gleaming look in her eye. She adores him.