At 3am I had woken up with a desperate thirst. I chugged down a litre of water and collapsed back into sleep.
When I woke again I felt funny. I prepared for school.
At 7am, on the way out the door, I said "Gosh I feel very strange. I don't know if I should go."
After some "um"ing and a fair wack of "ah"ing, I decided to stay home.
My insides decided to celebrate this occasion. I enjoyed their festivities while enthroned. Feeling social, I called Ralph to share the joy.
I swum laps (classic 'crawl') between the throne and the computer to plan my lessons in absentia.
The celebrations continued at both ends all morning. I got to look at last night's dinner again!
At noon, exhausted, sleepiness overcame me. The afternoon was spent in a haze of "Time Bandits" and Richard Glover.
Rachel found me moaning on the bed on her return. Delighted by my rectal anecdotes, she offered to get me lemonade from the shops.
The lemonade was a welcome energy source, but come nightfall I relapsed.
A fever developed and my colour faded. Prostrate was I, a bag of bones covered by sickly flesh in a bed of germs. Hours passed and I rotted.
Then, at 8pm Rachel decided to have a shower. Picture the scene: the bed covered with tissues from my sneezing fit. My good self, red nose, pale skin, lying in stupor punctuated only by my frequent lunges for the digital thermometer. Thirty eight point five.
Rachel makes the comment that this is the first time she’s seen me "actually sick". I am not impressed. I was sick in the past, just not at death's door. Now I'm at death's door and she thinks I'm sick. Deductively, she will not perceive an emergency until I am dead. The ambulance will come to give me something for the coffin'. Ha ha ha.
My body aches and is shivering. I am dehydrated. Thinking is difficult.
Rachel undresses, and through my blurred vision I make out her figure, dressed in only her underwear.
Through the mist of my mind a light shines - the potential for mirth!
I'll crack a joke!
"Sorry sweetheart", I manage, "I really am sick. You understand don’t you? I simply am not up to it. Maybe in a couple of days when I'm better, ok?"
I expect a laugh. To my surprise Rachel reacts with a look of disappointment. Her face melts into gorgeousness.
"Well the thing is," she says, "I was kind of hoping…"
????????????
I try to read her face. It appears sincere.
I hesitate.
For about half a second.
Strength springs from somewhere. Like Lazarus I sit up and start clearing up the snotty tissues from the bed. I take hold of the radio/tape deck and place it on the ground. I am like the optimistic torso of a knight from "The Holy Grail" In hindsight, I dread to think what I looked like. How sexy is a corpse?
But then I notice Rachel has not moved. My eyes move up to her.
Her jaw has dropped and she is staring at me in disbelief.
Just looking at me with a mixture of shock and revelation.
Uh oh.
She was joking.
I'm never going to live this one down.
