Phillip's Frat brothers tend to hang out at their House, but a few of them come over for FAC (Friday Afternoon Club). And of course, with so many cute boys around, many of my sorority sisters enjoy frequent visits as well.
I feel like I'm freezing to death. My body is achy, my throat and neck are really sore, and I think my glands are swollen.
I hate to admit it, but I may very well be coming down with something.
It's a Tuesday night and instead of being at the bar with Phillip and some friends, I'm in the library doing research for a paper that is due in two weeks. I'm actually trying to get a head start on it, which is something I never do. I tend to wait until the last minute.
I have always said that I do my best work under pressure.
And really, I do.
The teacher for this class is adamant about us using the library and not just the Internet for our research. We have to have five sources that came from the library, so I'm trying to get the five stupid sources out of the way, then I can use the Internet to do the bulk of the research.
But I'm starting to feel really bad. Actually, I haven't felt great for a couple of weeks, but I've been doing my best to ignore it.
Maybe I'm allergic to the library. I wonder if that could get me out of this stupid paper.
Probably not.
I give up on the resources and go home to an empty house. I take off my clothes, put on a pair of really warm sweat pants, and then raid Danny's room for an old practice jersey. I love those shirts because they are big and soft and silky. The shirt is huge on me, but feels great. I ease myself into bed and snuggle under my covers in an attempt to get warmed up.
I doze off for a little while and when I wake up, I feel even worse.
I am definitely sick.
I wish Mom was here. She always spoiled me when I was sick.
I really miss her and Dad.
Then I think of the next best thing and call Phillip's cell.
He answers with a cheerful, “Hey.”
There's a lot of laughing and noise in the background. It sounds like they're already having a great time.
I hate missing a great time.
“Phillip,” I whine, “when are you coming home?”
“Not for a while. Are you done at the library? You gonna come join us? You know we're all at Kegger's, right?”
“Oh,” I say quietly.
“What's wrong?” He reads my voice and knows since I didn't say, I'll be right there, something must be wrong.
“Nothing Phillip, I just don't feel very good.” I sorta start to cry. “Um, well, I feel really bad and I'm all alone,” I sniffle.
“I'll be right there.” I hear him tell everyone, I gotta go, before he shuts his phone.
I'm really lucky to have Phillip, I think, as I fall back to sleep.
I feel a hand on my forehead and wake to find Phillip at my side.
“My God, Princess, you're burning up! Have you taken your temperature?”
I shake my head no and close my eyes. My eyelids burn.
Phillip runs in the bathroom and grabs a thermometer. Then he sits on my bed and says, “Here, open your mouth.”
I do, putting the thermometer under my tongue, while Phillip uncovers me.
My whole body is shaking. I really have the chills.
The thermometer beeps and Phillip reads it.
“Gee-zuz, it's 105. I'm taking you to the hospital!”
He scoops me up out of bed, carries me to the car and gets me to the hospital.
At the hospital, I'm given some medicine to help bring the fever down.
The doctor is concerned that I might have meningitis because my neck hurts so badly.
A nurse took some blood and swabbed both my nose and my throat. I am hoping the tests show something because I really do not want a needle stuck into my spine!! I've been admitted to the hospital and am in a room by myself. I'm feeling a bit better because my fever is down to 102 degrees. At least it doesn't hurt to blink anymore.
My doctor, Dr. Daniels, steps in and tells me to start thinking of whom I may have had close contact with recently.
He hands Phillip a little hospital notepad.
“How close of contact?” I ask him.
“Physical contact,” he says simply, as he reads my chart.
Maybe I'm delirious from the fever, but it seems like he's making this difficult.
So I ask for more clarification, “Like just being around them or actual physical contact?”
He stops reading my chart, looks at me like I'm blonde and says, “Physical contact. Like kissing.”
“We may need more paper for that, Doc,” Phillip, the comedian in the corner says.
“Shut up, Phillip,” I glare at him.
But he continues, “Just bring in the student directory. We can use a highlighter, might go faster.”
I try to ignore Phillip and ask the doctor another question.
“How far back does this contact have to go?”
“Oh, just a couple of weeks,” the doctor says.
“Why?”
“Well, meningitis can be very contagious and dangerous. It can spread quickly at colleges, but we can treat anyone you've been in contact with if we need to. We'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with when your tests come back.”
“What about Phillip?” I nod toward the comedian.
“I doubt a kiss on the forehead counts,” Phillip says with his bratty voice.
“Are you two related?” the doctor smiles and asks Phillip.
“No, we're roommates,” I say, before Phillip has a chance to make another smart ass remark.
“You're right,” the doctor tells him. “A kiss on the forehead should be safe. How are you feeling? Any symptoms?”
“Well my back is pretty sore from carrying this lug in here,” Phillip responds, nodding at me.
“Shut. Up. Phillip.” He is so embarrassing me.
The doctor's beeper goes off. He frowns at it and says, “Excuse me. I'll be right back.”
I'm thinking about who I kissed last week, when a memory comes rushing into my head. I put my hand up to my mouth and say, “Oh God, Phillip. Where's Danny? Have you seen him today? Is he feeling okay?”
Phillip looks at me, stunned. He's wondering why I would be worried about Danny, but then he puts two and two together and asks incredulously, “Danny? You kissed Danny?”
I smile half a smile and shake my head.
“On the lips?”
Hey, I'm sick here. Stop asking me so many questions.
“Uh, yeah.”
“When?” He give me a stern look. “And more importantly, why?”
Okay, so I appreciate the fact that he was concerned about me, left the bar and brought me here, but I don't think this is any of his business and tell him so.
“None of your business, Phillip.”
He looks unhappy with me. Maybe I'll just mess with Mr. Nosy a little.
So I sigh, like I'm ready to spill my guts.
“Fine. It was a few days ago and it was nothing, really. Just Danny, being Danny.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, he just walked in the door and kissed me. You know Danny, he doesn't have to have a reason. He just does stuff.”
Phillip is sitting in the corner with his mouth open. The look on his face cracks me up, but I try not to smile.
It's good to know that I can be very sick and still have a sense of humor.
After his constant slamming of me in front of the doctor, well, he deserves this.
“It's not that big of a deal, Phillip, we just kissed some, and well,” I say with a shrug, “one thing led to another, and we spent the afternoon in bed.”
Don't I wish.
Kinda.
Really, I'm not sure why Danny and I never have slept together. We have definitely hooked up on occasion, but it's never gone that far. And Danny hasn't kissed me in front of Phillip since Prom night. Our relationship, from a kissing standpoint, is kinda weird, if I think about it. I guess the whole it will ruin us thing sits in the back of both of our minds. But we have a little tradition of making out when he's depressed, or had a bad game or is hurt or something. I think I'm comforting to him. He always tells me that he can't deal with other girls after a loss, so we meet in our booth at the back of the bar, or at a party or somewhere, get drunk and make out. Then we come back home and act like it never happened. Danny is a typical athlete. He'll wear the same socks if he gets on a winning streak, and he's never had two losses in a row, if we kiss after a loss. So I hate to admit it, but sometimes I am not as upset as I should be when the Huskers lose, cuz I know Danny and I will have fun that night. Maybe that's it. We both know that it's just for fun. I always tease him and tell him he needs to marry a girl just like Phillip, someone calm, organized and responsible. Of course, that's when he tells me, you need to marry Phillip.