A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Fifty Six : The Boy Who Wanted To Kiss

I had been cooped up in my room from the past three days doing the only disgusting thing my body allowed me to do- throw up. Any food that went in my stomach came out within minutes with it's consistency changed. So I didn't eat anything and drank liquids as much as I could (without puking it out) since I couldn't risk dying of dehydration.

My mum was home all day tending to my needs. She would check my temperature constantly, give me food and medicines at the correct time, frequently clean the vomit filled bucket, help me get to the bathroom and change my clothes, change my bedsheets, put a mild air freshener so I didn't feel suffocated and still managed to do the regular chores of the house. The sentimental part of me didn't want to leave home, but the rational part of me knew that once I shifted to the hospice care centre, my mum primarily wouldn't have to be my carer. She could be free.

Logan dropped by whenever he was free from his jobs and helped my mum around. He would give me those long back rubs which was more amusing than soothing. It was fun to watch Logan awkwardly giving me as much comfort as he could, but I appreciated his efforts. He didn't know much about my illness and it was nice of him to not make a deal when I had accidently spewed all over him. He hadn't made a single noise of disapproval as he held me with our vomit stained clothes on, wiped my mouth and mumbled 'it's okay' again and again as if it was okay to ruin his late father's mint condition shirts.

I fell even more in love with him at that appalling, queasy moment.

"How are you feeling now? Better love?" My dad entered my room and gently kissed the top of my head. "Do you need anything?"

"Nothing, I'm fine now," I mumbled with a cheerful smile as mum entered the room. "Hey maa, you didn't go to meet the client?"

"I had cancelled all appointments for these days," she said nonchalantly while yanking the curtains off. "I'll put these in the washer, do you want anything else for me to wash?"

"No, dad did my laundry before including the sheets, didn't you?"

"Yes dear," he said lovingly before shuffling to mum and kissing her cheek. "I'm going to work. Take care of my daughter."

"Oh maa will," I bantered, waving at my dad as he left. "Maa, you should have met your client. You know I'm fine right now and I'm going to the reception in the evening."

"Joy---"

"Please, I'm tired of sitting here all day with this bad stench surrounding me. I haven't thrown up since the past twelve hours and my temperature is alright." I beckoned my mum to check my temperature. I placed her hand on my abdomen. "I don't feel pain here anymore."

Her eyes searched mine for any lie, but I met her gaze fiercely. She should know that I wasn't stupid, if I actually felt that jolt of burning pain in my bones (which occurred more frequently than before) I would never leave my room. She tenderly brushed my thin hair back. "How are your bowel movements?"

"Solid." I grinned at her as she laughed. "When's the nurse coming?"

"Don't worry, she'll come before you have to go to the reception. I'll cook something nice for you, what do you want?"

I honestly didn't feel like eating, the thought of food made me gag. "Whatever you like."

"Ooh I'll make tofu with a thick gravy  and pudding with rasberries," she said excitedly and I offered her a reluctant smile. These were high in calories and some of my favourites so I would be able to eat a little and gain as much energy as I could. My doctors planned to scrape the salads from my diet since it was hard for me to eat that. Also because I was dying quicker than before. Each additional symptom proved it- rashes on my skin, infection in my throat (which made it difficult to swallow food, another reason to vomit it all out!) "Do you want butter noodles or rice? You like butter noodles more, I'll make that."