“Hey, Merry,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I told her. “Things are going well.”
“With everything?” she asked.
“All the platforms, yes,” I told her. “Visits to all of the accounts are up, and we are seeing a steady increase in all forms of engagement from leaving comments to reposting content.”
“What about other things?” she asked.
I looked at her as if I didn’t know what she was talking about, hoping it may make her uncomfortable enough for her to drop the conversation.
“What other things?” I asked.
The innocent look didn’t work.
“Things other than work. You seemed a little distracted over the last week. And I’ve noticed you haven’t been socializing with anybody like you were before. Especially Quentin. I thought the two of you had planned on having regular meetings to discuss your social media campaign,” she said.
“We did,” I said. “But since things have been going well, we’ve decided email works just as well.”
Minnie nodded politely but I knew she didn’t buy one bit of my story. She was way too shrewd of a woman not to know the real reason things had changed between Quentin and me. Without saying anything or telling me what she was doing, in the coming days she made efforts to help me work around being near Quentin. It felt good to be so appreciated and valued that she did not immediately side with her son and instead did what she could to create harmony in the office. I hoped it wouldn’t last for too long and soon it would just fade into memory so everything could go back to normal.
That conversation had been nearly a month ago, and things were still tense around the office. It was only made worse by the bug I’d picked up at some point over the last week. Usually I was a very healthy person and managed to skate by the annual cold and flu season without falling victim. I might spend a day sneezing and coughing, but it had been years since the last time I’d felt truly ill for more than twenty-four hours. But this thing was sticking. I didn’t have a fever, but I didn’t have as much energy as usual, and everything I ate made me want to throw up. I tried to think about everybody I’d been in contact with, but no one I knew of was dealing with the stomach flu. I must have picked it up somewhere without realizing it. I made a mental note to start using those disinfecting wipes grocery stores put next to the carts.
I did my best to push through it and not let being under the weather keep me from fulfilling my responsibilities. After a few days of feeling sick, though, I knew it wasn’t just going to go away. Maybe some extra rest would help. Minnie was understanding when I called in sick, and Brandon transformed the living room of our apartment into a sick bay for me. He brought me soup and juice, reminding me regularly it didn’t matter if I felt sick, I had to stay hydrated. Taking a few sips every now and then seemed to help settle my stomach. Except for the orange juice. That definitely made it worse.
He was a fantastic nurse for almost two days before I told him he needed to get out and have some fun. It wasn’t just about me feeling sick or him taking care of me. After all, it wasn’t like he had to do a whole lot. I barely wanted to eat and spent most of my time sleeping and watching TV. Instead, it was about how attached he had become to the apartment and the routine of just going to work and coming back. I didn’t want him to fall into a habit of not doing anything or seeing anyone, so I encouraged him to call up some friends and go out to dinner. My single request was that he not bring back any leftovers. I didn’t want the smell to make me feel any worse than I already did.
It wasn’t long after he left before Olivia showed up at the apartment. She let herself in using the extra key I gave her for emergencies. I groaned when I saw her.
“Did Brandon call you?” I asked.
“Yes, he did,” she said. “Somebody had to. You didn’t even tell me you were sick.”
“That’s because I’m not sick,” I told her. “I’m just not feeling great. I think I’ll probably just worked myself too hard and I’m exhausted.”
“All right. Well, what are your symptoms?” she asked.
“I’m tired. And I feel sick to my stomach. Not like all the time, but it lasts for a while when I do,” I told her.
“Not all the time?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“I only really start to feel like I’m going to throw up after I eat. Sometimes I’m a little woozy, but if I smell food or attempt to eat anything solid, it gets really bad.”