Page 16 of Total Dreamboat
Felix
Hope jumps off the couch, her hand over her mouth, and staggers to the loo. It takes me a few seconds to react, and then I run after her. She slams the door shut, and moments later I hear retching noises.
I don’t know what to do.
I want to help her, but how? Going in to hold back her hair seems like a disgusting cliché, rather than something someone would want you to do in real life. If I were the one vomiting, I emphatically would not want her to watch.
It sounds bloody awful.
Poor girl.
After a few minutes the noises stop. I knock tentatively on the door.
“Hope?”
“Don’t come in,” she cries.
“Can I do anything for you?”
“I’m okay.”
But she’s not; the gagging resumes immediately.
I feel responsible. Perhaps if I hadn’t invited her here, she would have gone to sleep, and the nausea wouldn’t have claimed her.
And I’m worried. Tomorrow is a day at sea, and who knows how long the swells will last. She could be sick for ages.
I get a selfish twinge of disappointment.
I was hoping to spend time with her tomorrow.
Not to mention tonight.
Feeling helpless, I pour her a glass of water and stand sentry outside the door. The retching stops again, and then I hear the tap running. Hope pokes her head outside. Her lipstick is smeared. She looks absolutely miserable.
“Here, love,” I say, offering her the water.
“Not sure I can keep it down.”
“Just try. You need to stay hydrated.”
She accepts it and takes a tiny sip, then swallows very cautiously.
“Do you think I could borrow a robe?” she asks. “I, um, made a mess of myself. If you don’t mind, I’m going to just take a quick shower so I don’t have to subject anyone in the hallway to… well.”
“Of course,” I say, tremendously relieved that I can do something . I go to the closet and grab a plush white Romance of the Sea –branded bathrobe and bring it to her.
She takes it and closes the door, and I pace around googling seasickness remedies. Unfortunately, most of them have to be taken before the nausea sets in. But several articles suggest that eating ginger and lying down help. I go to the phone, dial the number for Crisanto, and ask for ginger ale.
“Of course, Mr. Felix,” Crisanto says. He pauses. “I hope you aren’t seasick.”
“Not me. But my friend is ill.”
“May I suggest something that may help?”
“Please.”
“Green apples can calm the symptoms. I will bring you some.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
He arrives within minutes, carrying a tray of apples and bottles of ginger ale.
“I also brought some ginger lozenges,” he says. “We keep them on hand.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Can I do anything else for you, Mr. Felix?”
“No, thank you. Have a good night.”
I lay out the supplies on the table.
Hope emerges from the bathroom. Her hair is wet and her face is scrubbed clean of makeup. Her bare face is stunning, but without the makeup I can see how pale she’s become.
“I got you some ginger ale and lozenges,” I say. “And this sounds bizarre, but Crisanto said that green apples help.”
“You’re so sweet. Thank you. Although not really sure I want to risk an apple right now.”
“WebMD says lying down is good. Do you want to…” I gesture at my bed. Then I realize that this could be interpreted the wrong way. “I mean, for a rest,” I clarify, “until you feel a little—”
“Puking in your bed is not how I had planned to seduce you,” she says.
My heart jolts.
“You planned to seduce me?”
If she didn’t look so ill, I would take her into my arms.
She smiles wanly. “Eventually.” She holds her hand to her stomach. “Oh God. I need to get back to my room. Can you grab me a laundry bag for my dress? It’s a biohazard.”
I duck into the closet and find her one. She goes to the bathroom to gather her clothes and I get her some slippers, as I doubt she wants to totter down the hallway in a bathrobe and heels.
I hand them to her when she emerges.
“Thank you,” she says. “You’re so thoughtful.”
“Let me walk you back to your room.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s twenty feet away.”
“I want to. And I’ll carry your medicines, feeble though they may be.”
I gather up the apples and sodas and we walk slowly down the hall. Hope unlocks her room, then pauses at the door.
I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek. Her brow’s a little sweaty. I get a bad feeling that her respite from vomiting will not last the night.
“Text me if you need anything,” I say.
“Thanks, Felix. Good night.”
She closes the door and I go back to my room.
I get in bed, but I’m wired from the events of the past hour. I occupy myself by continuing to research seasickness cures.
A text pops up from Hope.
Hope: I risked the apple. It actually helped.
Felix: I’m so glad.
Hope: I had so much fun with you today. Vomit episode notwithstanding.
I smile.
Felix: Me too.
Felix: Do-over when you’re not sick?
Hope: Absolutely.
Felix: Get some sleep xx.