Rhett by Margaret McHeyzer

 

 

 

“Rhett?” I croak as I open my eyes and hold my hand over my throat.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” His head pops up from the floor. Rhett rubs at his eyes, and I look around, dazed and confused. “Are you okay?”

“My throat feels like it’s on fire.” A night light gives the perfect amount of illumination for me to tell it’s dark outside. “What time is it?”

Rhett taps his phone to life. “It’s gone just after one. Dr. Allard is coming in the morning. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Who?” I clutch at my throat again. “Can I have some water please?” Rhett jumps to his feet, checks me for a fever and frowns. “How high is it?”

“Still hovering at a hundred and one.” He quickly leaves. When he comes back, he sits on the side of the bed, and hands me two pills and lifts the glass to my lips. I take the medicine, and lay down again. I watch as Rhett places the water on the desk in his room. “Other than your throat, how are you feeling?” He sits on the side of the bed again, and I scoot over so he can lie with me. “No, no, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“This is your bed, Rhett. I feel bad enough knowing I’ve taken it. At least share it with me. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

“I am. Trust me.” I pat the bed beside me. He reaches around to the back of his neck, and rubs at it for a few seconds. “I barely ever get sick, but when I do, it knocks me on my ass for a good three or four days.”

“You’ll stay here until you’re better.” He lays beside me, and stares at me.

I move further back, painfully aware of my horrid breath. “I’ve got my own home to go to.”

“No, you’re staying here,” he insists. “There’s no other option.”

“I can’t intrude in your and Elise’s lives. Jesus, Rhett, I don’t want her to think badly of me.”

“Stop.” He places his finger to my lips. “Just stop. You’re overthinking everything. Mom doesn’t even want you living in the trailer.”

“You told her?” I roll my eyes and turn over. “I can’t believe you told her.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, as he places his hand on my hip.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” I say as a small tear rolls onto the pillow. “I’m ashamed enough as it is.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dani.” He leans over and kisses my shoulder, then settles back into the bed.

“I’m tired,” I say, essentially ending this conversation.

“Dr. Allard will be here first thing in the morning. I love you.” He grips my hip, and possessively squeezes.

“I love you,” I say and close my eyes.

Why does my body have to be such an asshole? I hate getting sick. But mostly, I hate how my life is unravelling. I wish he’d never said anything to Elise. Now she’ll look at me with pity, and I hate sympathy.

“Hey, sweetheart, Dr. Allard is here,” Rhett says rousing me from my restless sleep.

“Huh?” I open my eyes to see an older man, smartly dressed, staring at me. I put my hand over my mouth, conscious that my breath is rancid, and that I look like shit. “I’m sorry. I should brush my teeth.”

“I’ve seen much worse than you, Dani,” he says and adds in a chuckle. “I’m Dr. Allard, and Rhett here tells me you’ve had a fever, and your throat is sore?”

“Yeah.” I keep my hand up over my mouth.

“What else is going on?”

“She works herself to death,” Rhett says accusingly as he stands in the doorway of the bedroom.

“Dani.” Dr. Allard slowly turns his head to look at Rhett, basically telling him to shut up. “What else is going on?”

I notice Rhett rolls his eyes and silently huffs. “My body feels like every muscle is tired, and sore. My throat is the worst though.”

“Do you get sick often?”

“No, but when I do, it can lay me out for a few days.”

Dr. Allard feels around my throat, then takes his stethoscope out and listens to my chest, and my back. “You work?”

“She has two jobs,” Rhett interrupts again.

Dr. Allard lowers the stethoscope, and turns to Rhett. “Rhett, my boy, I’ve been your doctor since you were born, so I feel I have the right to say this to you. Shut the hell up.” He turns his attention back to me. That has brought a smile to my face. “You work?”

“Yes, I have two jobs. I’m a waitress over at a café in Hope River, and at The Narrow Table.”

“Ah, okay. When was the last time you had a blood test just to see how all your levels are?”

“I don’t remember, but it’s been years. I’ve been feeling tired lately.”

“Could you be pregnant?”

Rhett’s shoulders square, as he lifts his chin. His jaw tightens, as he stands, waiting for my reply. “Not a chance at all.” I notice Rhett instantly calms.

“The reason I’m asking, is because if you are, we just need to be mindful of medications. Are you allergic to anything?” I shake my head. “Open your mouth for me. Let’s see what’s going on in there.” He turns on a little flashlight, and I open my mouth. He winces. “Stick your tongue out.” I do, and he grimaces while pulling back. “Well, I can tell you one thing, those tonsils are inflamed and full of pus. Can you swallow pills?”

“Rhett’s been giving me Tylenol.”

Dr. Allard turns to Rhett. “Keep giving them to her. I’ll write out a prescription you can take to the pharmacy for antibiotics.”

“Okay,” Rhett says.

“Now, you, Missy.” Dr. Allard turns back to me. “Once you’re on the mend, I need you to come in for a blood test, just to see if you’re deficient in any levels. Working two jobs can be difficult, and you may need iron tablets, or a good multivitamin.” He turns to look at Rhett. “You’ll bring her in?”

“Of course,” Rhett replies.

I can drive myself. But, whatever. It’s nice having Rhett care for me. It’s not something I’m used to.

“Drink a lot of fluids, and you’re not to go to work for the next three days.”

“Three days?” I ask, worried. That’ll leave me with an entire week without money. What am I going to do? I’ve got a little put away in savings, but I still need to pay my rent and bills. This is going to wipe me out, I’ll be left with only a couple of hundred.

“I’m afraid the antibiotics will take a good couple of days to kick in. Besides, I doubt your bosses will want you around, passing your germs onto customers, would they?” I shake my head, and sink into the bed. Dr. Allard stands, and gives me a courteous, professional nod. “If she gets worse, call me straight away, although I doubt she will.” He leaves the room, and I lie down again.

What a mess. I’m going to have to try and pick up more shifts at The Narrow Table to get ahead again. I can’t live like this, from paycheck to paycheck. Hand to mouth. I hate it. Why did I have to get sick now? Not to mention, I’ll now need to find a way to pay for Dr. Allard too, and the medication.

I hear the front door close, then Rhett’s footsteps as they become louder. “I’m going to duck out to the pharmacy and get your medication, I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” I say as I refuse to turn over to look at him.

“Do you need anything else?” I shake my head. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate this, Rhett.”

“What?” I feel the bed dip behind me. He nestles into me, molding his body to mine. “What is it?” He gently runs his fingers up and down my back.

“That feels so nice.” He moves my hair from my neck, and lays a kiss on my tender skin. “So does that.”

“What do you hate?”

“I hate how my life is going okay, then something as simple as me getting sick can set me back ten steps. I was hoping I’d have some shit sorted in my life by now.” I feel like I’m whining. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I have a roof over my head, and I’m able to pay my own bills, but I thought I’d be okay. Now, I can’t work for another three days, which means I’ll have no money coming in and it’ll nearly wipe out my savings.”

“There’s always more money, sweetheart. But there isn’t another Dani.”

That’s something someone who has money says. “I guess,” I sigh. “Anyway, I’m tired.” Right now, I’m anything but optimistic. I just want to feel sorry for myself while I try to fall asleep. I’m entitled to a little self-pity considering the hand I’ve been dealt.