Page 35 of Counted

“Are you okay?” Eve’s voice from the other side of the bed. Groggy. Startled.

He tried to answer but couldn’t. He had no idea what time it was. What day it was. What room they were in. Everything was dark and unfamiliar and slightly blurred. It was all pounding with the torment in his head.

He sucked in a weird, ragged gasp in lieu of an answer.

“Oh no, it looks terrible. I’ll get you one of your pills.” She must have been getting up, because the mattress shifted just slightly.

Even that felt like torture. He groaned again as he gripped his head. He heard rustling from across the room. A quiet rattling. Then Eve’s soft presence moved closer like a hot wave.

Nausea crashed over him. His stomach heaved. He jumped up instinctively and took fast, clumsy strides around the bed, pushing past Eve in a desperate attempt to find a bathroom.

There was one at the far end of the room. He burst into it, falling to his knees in front of the toilet as he started to vomit.

He hadn’t eaten since the evening before, so it took several heaves before anything came up. Then it was just thick bile that burned his throat and mouth.

Soaked with sweat and with his hair falling into his face, he thought he was finally done. Sat back and tried to catch his breath.

“Oh my God, Jude.” Eve’s hoarse voice from the doorway.

Nothing could be more mortifying. Eve seeing him like this. He grappled inwardly, trying to subdue the headache enough to tell her he was okay.

But he wasn’t okay.

His stomach heaved again, and he had to throw up some more in painful, violent retches.

She’d moved behind him and gently pulled his hair back so it wouldn’t get in the way.

She shouldn’t be seeing this. She shouldn’t be dealing with this. He never should have dragged her into the mess his life and body had become.

Tears were streaming down his face when he could finally straighten up. There was vomit on his face and in his hair. His nose was running.

And, if possible, his head was pounding even more fiercely than ever.

He couldn’t live through this. No one could. His head was literally going to explode like a bomb.

His body collapsed. It simply collapsed. He couldn’t stay on his knees and fell awkwardly to the side until he was curled on the bathroom floor in a half-fetal position.

“Oh my God, no. Oh Jude, I’m so sorry.” Eve was still soft but now choked and raspy. She flushed the toilet and wiped down the toilet seat. Then she turned on the sink and stood there for a minute.

He didn’t know what she was doing, but he sensed some sort of tension from her, and it made everything worse.

It occurred to him vaguely that he was in a hotel. The one in Rome. They’d checked in late yesterday afternoon after taking a train from Paris, and then they’d had a lingering dinner with some excellent Chianti. They’d gone to bed fairly early, and then he’d woken up to this.

The four days they’d spent in Paris felt like a dream. A blurred vision of happiness he could barely remember. He reached for it mentally, tried to wrap his fingers around the days he was sure had been good.

They were gone. And nothing was left but the throbbing darkness his brain had become.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he felt Eve beside him. She must be kneeling on the floor because she was touching him. Her presence felt calmer now. Tranquil. Soothing.

Something cool and damp brushed against his face. She wiped his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, the sides of his jaw. Even down his neck.

He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t open his eyes.

“Do you think you can swallow one of your pills? You’re never going to feel better if you don’t take one.”

He knew she was right, so he barely managed to lift his head. She helped him get the pill into his mouth and take a few sips of water from the glass she held at his lips.

The water was cool. Felt good. The pill scratched its way down his throat.