OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

fifty-eight.

OCTOBER 19th, 1991, SEATTLE, WA

         "TRASH CAN! TRASH can!" Reagan gasped, her eyes widening as she flailed against the sheets and blankets that she was wrapped into, burrito-style, in her bed.

"I've got it, I've got it!" Kate said hurriedly, picking up the bagged pail at Reagan's bedside that was just a few inches too far from Reagan's quivering body. Kate winced as Reagan weakly leaned over, vomiting noisily into the trash can and gagging.

"That's right," Kate said meekly, rubbing Reagan's heaving shoulders. "Get it all out."

Reagan coughed, spitting bile into the trash and trying to gather her strength to lie back down. She felt Kate's hands, cool and gentle against her neck as they collected the scraggly bits of her hair that had strayed into her face.

"That's the fourth time today," Reagan said shakily. She closed her eyes. "I don't have anything else in my body to throw up."

"I know," Kate winced. "You'll just be dry-heaving soon enough. Lay back down."

Reagan listened to her doting sister and managed to resume the position she had been in, lying flat on her back with her eyes trained to the ceiling. She had been in bed for almost twenty-four hours, sick to her stomach with nausea. She was counting her blessings that it was a Saturday and she had not had to go into work.

Kate began to gather the soiled trash bag, carefully attempting to remove it from wastebasket. Reagan watched from the corner of her eyes, noting how Kate's face blanched as she avoided getting puke on her hands. It was the fourth trash bag of vomit she had taken out that day.

"I'm so sorry Kate," Reagan whispered.

"It's nothing," Kate lied. "Just a little throw up."

It was undeniable that Kate had proven herself to be the best sister in the world, especially within those first few weeks of October in which Reagan had discovered the curse that was  morning sickness. Although Kate was busy at school with homework, studying and exams, she had done her very best to be at Reagan's side when each bout of sickness struck. Since Reagan had always been too ill to go fetch her from campus, this had led to Kate relying on rides from friends or even the metro bus, which didn't exactly entail a pleasurable journey at six in the morning.

"You shouldn't be doing this," Reagan moaned, draping her arm over her face. "It's Saturday. You should be at school with your friends doing something fun."

"I'm not leaving you alone Reagan," Kate said firmly, knotting the trash bag ties together.

It was plainly obvious that Kate loved Reagan enough to make such sacrifices in her honor. They were close and they had always been that way, through thick and thin. But she also knew the real reason behind Kate's tenacity to keep up with her care-taking — she just felt downright awful for Reagan that Dave wasn't around to care for her himself.

Reagan had tried to give her sister a break. Chris had come to visit her several times but was presently facing car troubles in Olympia. Unfortunately, Reagan couldn't name another person she was close enough to to involve in her situation. Gallantly, Kate had stepped up to the plate.

"I can't watch you do this," Reagan said.

"So cover your eyes. Put that cold wash cloth back on your face."

Kate left the room with the trash bag in hand, keeping it a measurable distance away from her as she speed-walked to the kitchen. Reagan sighed, cringing at the disgusting taste in her mouth. She struggled to sit up and take a tiny sip of her bedside water, attempting to swish away any traces of throw up. It was a stupid thing to do. Surely she would throw up again sooner or later.