If You Made It This Far
If You Made It This Far
Written by Dean Lilleyman
Flu.He says it must be flu.
She puts her hand on his forehead and tells him that he’s hot.
Been feeling it coming, he says. Been fuzzy for a couple of days.
She turns her hand over, pressing the back of her fingers against his clammy skin. He makes a sound like a blacksmith’s bucket.
Nice and cool? she says.
Yeah, he says.
She takes her hand away and slides her feet into her work shoes.
I’ll ring in for you, she says. I’ll tell them you’ve got the flu and won’t be coming in. There’s honey and lemon in the fridge. I’ll fix you a hot toddy.
She walks round the bed, and towards the bedroom door, stopping to pick up an empty glass from his side.
I knew it was coming, he says. I could feel it.
Last night lowered your immune system, she says. Let it in. It does that. I read it somewhere.
He hears the gate clank and her car revving away up the street. The morning sun is warm through the bathroom window. He watches the dust move in the air as he pisses. He doesn’t throw up. Then his hands are under the cold tap, his fingers moving in and out of the cold water. He closes his eyes, says Christ.
Shuffling back into the bedroom, he sits down slowly onto the bed, pulling on the crumpled jeans from the floor. The change in his right pocket looks just over a fiver. The phone number in his left will get flushed.
And then the hands to the face. Watching through a fan of ochre-tinged fingers, to where the yellow glass sits steaming on the bedside table. And beyond that, the alarm clock. A Dali at seven fifty-five.
Fifty-nine downstairs, and the note stuck on the fridge door:
‘If you made it this far, you will find honey and lemon in here. Enough for one more hot toddy. Squeeze lemon into glass. Add dessert spoon of honey. Add drop of whiskey. Pour hot water into glass. Kettle in kitchen. Near washing machine. Which is that big white box with a round window on it. Enjoy the honey, Honey. PS Sugar optional.’
He opens the fridge. There’s half a lemon and a jar of honey on the middle shelf. He takes a can of lager from the bottom, and closes the door.