Pseudo-Mom

Pseudo-Mom

I'm sick today. The icky, feverish, bone-aching, migraine, sore-throat sick. The kind of sick where you want your mom by you, smoothing your hair back and bringing you 7-up in a mug. Mom is two hours away, but John was just a few minutes away, and he took care of me today. I didn't want to be in my dorm all day, because Saturdays are noisy, and I knew that there'd be music and yelling going on most of the day, so John made up a nest for me at his apartment. He took his futon mattress into the kitchen (by the heater) and gave me lots of blankets and pillows, then said that he was going to go get a bagel and coffee from the coffee shop. He was gone for a long time, and I fell asleep, but when he came back, he was carrying a bag from the supermarket.

"I got you something!"

"what?"

"Dish soap!!"

"Ha, ha."

Actually, he brought me orange juice and cinnamon rolls, and spent the afternoon hovering over me, brushing my hair back from my forehead and pouring more orange juice into my special cup; I lay on the sofa with my head on his lap, falling asleep again; I moved to the futon, and he brought a book over and stayed by me while I slept.

And each time I woke up and realized that he was still there, that he wanted to be near me even though he knew that he would definitely get sick too...I felt so lucky.

--

He has a couple of shirts hung up in my closet, in case he has to head right to work after class -- he doesn't have to go home; he can just swing past here and grab his shirt. I keep going over and burying my face in the cotton, because that scent, the smell of his soap and cologne and him...that's one of the only things that I can actually smell today.