The door gave way. She helped me walk, the nausea like a sharp knife. But she turned me until the backs of my knees touched the couch. Gently sat me down. As soon as I touched a soft surface I crawled until I could stretch out my body. The room got darker, but I still wanted to puke.

Her fingers landed on the back of my neck. “Does ice help?”

“Yeah.”

A minute later and the first real relief appeared—an ice pack Tabitha placed gently on my forehead and a soft, cool sheet she draped over my waist. The cushions dipped. I could feel her body heat but still couldn’t open my eyes. She picked up my hand and held it.

“Tabitha,” I whispered. “I have…medicine that I take. In the bathroom. Orange bottle.”

She kissed my cheek lightly. “Be right back.”

I was mildly aware of doors opening and closing. The slightest movement brought an onslaught of pain. I focused on my breathing. That Tabitha was here when I was usually alone when this happened.

Water ran in the kitchen. Her fingers caressed my face again.

“Sweetheart,” she said. Beneath the pain, my skin warmed slightly at the endearment. “I have pills, but I think you should double-check they’re the right ones.”

“Okay.” She moved the curtain behind me back an inch and pressed the pills into my hand. I squinted one eye open, read the label, and my head screamed violently.

“It’s them.” I fell back, mouth sour and throat hot. “Two with water.”

She gave me two and a glass of ice-cold water. I sloshed them down with a grimace. I sensed the room get even darker. She added a second ice pack, to the back of my neck, and I could have cried my gratitude.

“Tabitha.” I exhaled through my nose. “Can you…my clothes?”

“They’re probably super uncomfortable, huh?”

I winced but didn’t respond. Lightly, very lightly, Tabitha undressed me. My boots and socks, slowly tugged off. Then her fingers at my belt, the zipper.

“Can you lift a little?” she asked.

I tilted my hips up. She worked fast and then my jeans were off too. I sighed.

“Better?” I heard the smile in her voice.

“Thank you.”

The sheet was pulled up to my chest again.

“What else can I do to help?” she whispered.

“Stay down here with me?” I said, each word like a boulder. Like this, awash in pain, I had nothing to protect my feelings for Tabitha. But nothing to censor them either.

“That’s not even a question,” she said. She was gone for a minute but returned with pillows and more blankets. Her body stretched long next to mine. She arranged herself so that I could lay with my head on her chest and her arms wrapped around my back. She hummed a sound of contentment.

“Am I too heavy?” I asked.