Sickmaking
After leaving Professor Nadezhda's laboratory, Derek became desperately sick. Jun had been warned, but Derek's physical distress was appalling. And time consuming. She thanked her fate for Jinpei and Ainur by taking the night off from the bar -- and dodging Derek's projectile vomitting.
Derek's apologies amused her. "I'm a bartender," she'd told him. "Try not to get sick out the other end and maybe I won't abandon you."
It was a better person than her who could resist trying to make a person with the heaves laugh.
Now it was morning, with dawn lightening the sky. Jun should have felt tired but she didn't. She wondered why that was.
Jun swabbed down the toilet room and called out for Kian to stay out of it until it smelled less nasty than it did now. Derek hadn't been able to keep the messier bits of his physical distress in the toilet basin. In the bathroom, she gathered Derek's clothing, slipped out of her own and applied water and soap to herself until the only sick smell came from the discarded clothing she'd wrapped in a towel. Satisfied that she didn't smell like blood, bile and acid, she folded herself into a robe. She checked on Kian in her bedroom, opening her door far enough to see if he was in there or not.
As she walked back down the short hallway, she straightened a crooked picture frame and tapped a darkened night-light. It flared bright at her touch. She removed it from the electrical outlet and pocketed it.
She padded on bare feet into her spotless kitchen. The table was set for breakfast. Various flowers hung by cotton thread from hooks set in the windowsill for drying. They represented Jun's failed attempts to get floral gifts of Derek to her to root. A vine cutting suspended in water-glass, wound around chopsticks. The vine had come from the Cheshire cat. When she looked up from laundry pre-prep, she looked at the drying flowers and smiled. How gross would it be if she hung up her vomit slimed bra from the windowsill as some sort of keep-sake?
Once the clothes were spinning in the laundry machine, Jun cut up fruit and bread for Kian's breakfast and returned to Derek. When she entered the guest bedroom, with bowls of ice water and some hand towels, she found found him lying across both futons. Getting something they could both sleep on comfortably was past due.
Derek's apologies amused her. "I'm a bartender," she'd told him. "Try not to get sick out the other end and maybe I won't abandon you."
It was a better person than her who could resist trying to make a person with the heaves laugh.
Now it was morning, with dawn lightening the sky. Jun should have felt tired but she didn't. She wondered why that was.
Jun swabbed down the toilet room and called out for Kian to stay out of it until it smelled less nasty than it did now. Derek hadn't been able to keep the messier bits of his physical distress in the toilet basin. In the bathroom, she gathered Derek's clothing, slipped out of her own and applied water and soap to herself until the only sick smell came from the discarded clothing she'd wrapped in a towel. Satisfied that she didn't smell like blood, bile and acid, she folded herself into a robe. She checked on Kian in her bedroom, opening her door far enough to see if he was in there or not.
As she walked back down the short hallway, she straightened a crooked picture frame and tapped a darkened night-light. It flared bright at her touch. She removed it from the electrical outlet and pocketed it.
She padded on bare feet into her spotless kitchen. The table was set for breakfast. Various flowers hung by cotton thread from hooks set in the windowsill for drying. They represented Jun's failed attempts to get floral gifts of Derek to her to root. A vine cutting suspended in water-glass, wound around chopsticks. The vine had come from the Cheshire cat. When she looked up from laundry pre-prep, she looked at the drying flowers and smiled. How gross would it be if she hung up her vomit slimed bra from the windowsill as some sort of keep-sake?
Once the clothes were spinning in the laundry machine, Jun cut up fruit and bread for Kian's breakfast and returned to Derek. When she entered the guest bedroom, with bowls of ice water and some hand towels, she found found him lying across both futons. Getting something they could both sleep on comfortably was past due.