“Nah. I think I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,” he answered, resting his hands on his stomach.
I sat down on the sofa with my shoes on the floor and looked at Wesley. “Is your tummy still bothering you?”
“A little bit, but I’ll be fine.”
I slipped my shoes on and tied the laces. “Want me to get anything for you?”
“Yeah. Could you get some Tums or something?”
“Sure,” I said, walking between Wesley and the TV and stopping. I looked at him with the best cutesy face I could come up with and swung my arms back and forth at my sides. “Can I take the car?” I asked sweetly with big eyes.
Wesley smiled, knowing I could manipulate him with that look. “Will you be all right by yourself?” He taught me how to drive a stick a few months before, but I’d never driven without him.
“I haven’t stalled once the last few times you let me drive and I’ll be really careful,” I promised. Wesley’s car was his baby and I wanted to assure him that he didn’t need to worry. “Please?” I asked with pouty lips and upturned brows.
“How can I say no to that face?” he agreed with a light chuckle.
“Thank you!” I shouted, grabbing my coat from the back of a kitchen chair. I picked up Wesley’s keys from the counter and pushed my hands through the sleeves of my jacket. “All right. I’ll be back in a little while and I promise I’ll be careful! Love you!” I said, heading out the front door.
I drove to the bookstore on campus. Even though school started next week, it wasn’t very busy. I mulled around with my schedule in my hand, matching class numbers and sections, and picked out the books I needed. I had one text for chem, two for social psych, three for each history class, and two for English comp, and even though most of them were used, I still spent $250. I sighed as I handed my credit card to the clerk and he smiled knowingly at me.
I carried the two heavy bags to the car and was grateful I didn’t have to take the bus. I stopped at a drugstore and bought Tums and ice cream before heading home.
When I got back, Wesley was asleep on the sofa. I got a can of soda from the fridge and sat down next to him. Wesley was really cute when he was asleep. He slept with his lips slightly parted and he wrinkled up his nose regularly. I laced my hand with his on top of his stomach and smiled. He scrunched up his face and furrowed his brows and his hand felt clammy. I knew he wasn’t feeling well the last couple of days, but he seemed a little feverish now. His body jerked and he shocked himself awake. He looked at me with sleepy, foggy eyes and managed a smile.
“You’re back already?” he asked with a raspy voice.
“Yeah, safe and sound. But are you okay? You look a little pale,” I said, squeezing his hand.
“Yeah. My stomach’s still bothering me, but I’ll be fine,” he answered, resting his head back on the sofa again.
“That’s what you said two days ago,” I countered and brought my hand up to his forehead. “Besides, you feel pretty warm. Have you taken anything?”
“I took some ibuprofen a while ago, but I don’t think it’s working. My stomach still hurts. Did you buy those Tums?” he asked, looking back at the TV.
“Maybe I should call my mom. This started about four days ago and hasn’t gotten any better,” I said, pursing my lips in thought.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. It just has to run its course.”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna call anyway. Maybe she can tell us what you can take so you’ll feel a little better,” I said, standing up to get the phone.
Wesley told me not to worry, but I called anyway. Mom was in the middle of her shift, so I left a message with the receptionist in the pediatrics department and Mom called me back half an hour later. I explained Wesley’s aches and pains and her tone startled me a little. She asked where the pain was and how bad it was, and asked about accompanying symptoms. She told me that it could just be the stomach flu but with the location of his stomach pain, it might be appendicitis. She recommended that Wesley keep taking ibuprofen and if the pain worsened, even the slightest, to head to the ER, just in case.
I began to worry a little more when she mentioned the emergency room and Wesley laughed when I told him what she said. We spent the rest of the day on the sofa and I gave him two ibuprofen tablets every four hours. He didn’t seem to be getting any better and he still felt feverish, but I reasoned that I did tend to worry too much. We went to bed around ten o’clock and Wesley fell asleep right away. I had to count sheep for a while, but I eventually fell asleep too.
Around one in the morning, I woke up and Wesley was sitting up in bed with both hands over his stomach. He was sweating and rocking back and forth slightly. My heart sank and I told him we were going to the hospital. Wesley declined, of course, trying to convince me, and himself, that he was feeling better.
“No. Get dressed because we’re going,” I demanded, getting out of bed and pulling on my blue jeans from the pile of dirty clothes.
“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not going to the hospital,” he said, though his voice sounded weak.
“We’re going.”
“No, we’re not.”
We argued briefly and I sat down on the bed. I was fully dressed and Wesley was still under the covers in a T-shirt and boxers. I stared at him and he stubbornly glared back at me.
“Wesley, please,” I begged, but he shook
