Chapter 25
Claire refused to allow anyone else in the house so long as I was ill and so I suffered through my misery entirely alone. Molly and Orla called every other day for a quick chat but I longed for some real company beyond voices on a phone and my own pitiful reflection in the mirror. I didn’t do being sick very well. Claire brought me meals every few hours and I drank my body weight in flat Seven-up every day, but I swore that I was inches from death. They were two weeks bestowed upon me from some hellish demon and even after my self—imposed quarantine was over and I was able to actually stand up without nearly collapsing, I was shattered. All I wanted was to crawl in search of a cool surface and lay down, so high was my temperature. I was groggy and heavy and my whole body felt murky, but the worst part, I decided, was not the constant stream of snot spewing from my nose or the bristles at the back of my throat, but the fact that Connie couldn’t so much as call me on the phone.