Sick Day

When Miles woke up that Saturday, he felt as if his head was splitting open. His nose was plugged so that he could hardly breathe. He mentally cursed Leigha for giving him her cold, especially when he had to go to work. He rolled over to check his phone charging at his bedside. The time reading 8:12am. Too early for a Saturday. He groaned and rolled over, hoping to sleep it off. No doubt, his sister was sleeping off whatever was ailing her at the moment. He closed his eyes to resume sleep when he heard the sound of a nearby bedroom door opening and shutting. Then the sound of a wheelie backpack scraping across the tile floor. Then the wheels clopped down the stairs, making his brain rattle in his head.

Miles rolled out of bed, taking the blankets with him as he made his way to the stairs, only to see Leigha turning the corner, dressed for the day, a rolling suitcase in hand.

"Where are you going," he called out, his voice raspy, sounding akin to a dying animal. Leigha popped around to the stairs; her rolling luggage was filled with something. Although he couldn't think what it was with his headache.

"Hey, Miles, I'm heading back to school for the weekend to pack my things. I'll be back on Monday!" She waved and was about to head to the door but stopped and turned to look at her brother.

"You should go back to bed. You look terrible."

Mile scowled as his sister left, slamming the door behind her but neglecting to lock it. Miles groaned, realizing he should sleep on the couch to be closer to the kitchen. He turned to go back to his room and grabbed the blanket off his bed and his phone. He then hobbled down the stairs, locking the door before settling himself on the couch. Some of the sheets left from when Oliver stayed over were still on it. So Miles cocooned himself in the blankets, ready to sleep off whatever was plaguing him. As he settled himself in, he looked at his phone, searching for Tormino's contacts. Everyone should have their phones put away for work, but Cyrus might have his on. He called the number.

"Sonata?" The voice snapped.

"Hey, Cyrus," he hoarsely spoke into the phone.

"What happened to you? You sound like death incarnate."

"Sister got me sick. I won't be able to come in today."

"No, kidding. I'll let Chouteau know."

"Thanks."

Cyrus hung up. Miles set his phone down, ready to sleep off whatever was ailing him.

---

Ramona had been working the bar when Cyrus entered the dining area without his cup needing a refill.

"Everything alright?" asked Anita.

"Why do you assume something is wrong if I come over?" growled Cyrus.

"Because you don't have your cup," answered Anita.

Cyrus sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Miles is sick and won't be coming in today."

"Oh, dear!"

"Most likely from his sister. He mentioned she was sick New Year's Day," commented Oliver.

"Probably," added Cyrus before retreating to his office.

"Poor Miles," lamented Ramona, continuing to wipe the counter.

"Hey Ramona," called Sierra. Ramona turning to face the girl through the window.

"Since you get off first, why don't you stop by and visit?"

"Oh, uh, no, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I-I don't know where he lives."

"I do, I can give you his address," offered Oliver.

"What if I make a mess of things and make him sicker?"

"I'm sure he will appreciate the thought of you visiting," affirmed Anita.

Everyone seemed to be crowding around Ramona, pushing her to go.

"I can make him some soup, so you don't have to worry about making anything," added Shasta from his spot in the kitchen.

"Ok, I guess I can go."

The others cheered, returning to work. By the time Ramona's morning shift was over, Shasta had provided her with food and Oliver had given her the address. Rather than exit the back, Ramona left via the front entrance, using the wall as support as she walked to Miles' home.

She could not waste the precious efforts of her friends, and Miles needed to get better. She was thankful she hadn't had a significant fall that morning, considering Anita put her on bar duty. But she missed Miles' cheeriness. It took a bit of navigating, but she made it Miles' house, surprised how close he was to Tormino's compared to her home. She opened the outside gate and then inched her way towards the door. She grabbed the wall at the first chance and climbed up the one step before ringing the doorbell.

Ramona began to panic in her head as she waited. What if she had woken him up from a nap, or if he was upstairs and too sick to meet her downstairs? What if he slept in his underwear? The door opened. Miles was bundled in a blanket with a red-tipped nose and dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he was wearing pajamas.

"Ramona?" he asked. It sounded like a hoarse whisper.

"Hi, Miles. Cyrus said you weren't feeling well, so I brought over food," she offered, lifting the grocery bag for him to see.

"You didn't have to do that. I wouldn't want you to get sick."

Ramona shook her head and smiled. "You always help me, so now it's my turn to help you."

Miles smiled, sighing as he stepped aside and opened the door for her. Ramona stepped inside, taking off her shoes while Miles shut the door. She looked around. The house looking as lovely as the exterior. What little was in the living room ahead was clean, except for the sofa covered with a mess of blankets and pillows and the tissues that had missed the trash.

"Kitchen's this way."

Miles led Ramona to the left to a kitchen that looked barely used.

"Do you need any help or anything?" he asked? Ramona continued walking into the kitchen, setting her bag on the countertop.

"Shasta made lunch, so we need to heat it a little."

Miles nodded as Ramona lowered the sides of the bag. Miles opened a cabinet next to him and pulled out a bowl, as Ramona opened the lid of a container. She poured soup into the dish, and miraculously, not one drop spilled on the counter. Ramona looked around the kitchen, finding a microwave to heat the soup. She opened it then lifted the bowl. She had almost dumped the soup on herself, when Miles came from behind to grab the dish and help her put it in.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"No worries. I can handle this," Miles offered.

Ramona nodded, moving as Miles pushed in some numbers and the microwave began to hum.

"Is your sister home today?" asked Ramona. She thought it odd that the woman she had seen on Christmas wasn't spending time with her brother as she had proclaimed.

"She had to pack up her things from school, so she left this morning."

Ramona looked at Miles. He seemed to be looking at some spot on the counter. Whether his sister's actions upset him or not was hard to say.

"But she's your sister. Shouldn't she be the one to take care of you now that she's home?"

"We've never been close, so I see no reason for her to change that side of herself even if she changed everything else."

The microwave beeped. Miles opened the door and took out the bowl. He pulled out a spoon from a drawer and went over to the table to eat. Ramona following him, sitting in a chair across from him. Miles took a bite and sighed in bliss.

"This is perfect," he complimented. Ramona was smiling.

"I'll let Shasta know."

"He should try cooking this for Anita sometime; this could win her over."

Ramona giggled, "Probably."

Miles smiled before taking another bite.

"You should laugh more," he commented, his voice not as dry as before. Ramona turned pink as she looked to her lap. Miles continued eating the soup unaware of what he said or the effect it had on the girl sitting across from him. When he finished, he looked at the bowl a little mournfully, but then slumped in his chair.

"That was amazing," he rasped, closing his eyes as he relaxed in his chair.

Ramona stood up, taking the bowl and making her way to the sink to set the bowl inside. She looked around the basin to see a sponge and soap to wash the dishes. She turned on the hot water, then applied soap to the sponge as she moved the spout's nozzle to rinse out the bowl.

"I can do that," offered Miles as he walked up behind Ramon. She splashed him with the nozzle in surprise. He blinked a couple of times before wiping his face with the blanket.

"Sorry," said Ramona, turning off the sink.

"No worries," he yawned as he slumped over. He used Ramona's shoulder as a pillow. Ramona had to lean on the sink for support.

Ramona felt like she was catching a fever at this slight contact. She checked her forehead then checked Miles’ to make sure it wasn't just her. Miles had a high temperature.

"You're burning up," she murmured. She grabbed Miles' arms and pulled him to the living room. She turned him to drop him back on the couch, only for him to pull her down.

"M-miles," she whispered, receiving no response. She adjusted herself until she rolled off the couch. She peeked back up to see Miles already sleeping.

"Soup and fever must have knocked him out," she assumed. She set to work, wrapping him in the blankets. Then she exchanged his glass of water for a new one, filled the dirty soup bowl with water so he could wash it later. Both tasks took a while so she wouldn't make a mess. When she finished, she stopped by the sofa again, watching Miles sleep. His curls were messier than usual and his face looked relaxed.

"Ramona," he murmured.

"Yes," she responded.

"Thank you," he whispered before burrowing down into the blankets.

It was two simple words, but it warmed Ramona from head to toe. Her heart was flipflopping again as she sat on the ground to calm down; but she was not having a lot of luck. She ran for the door and shut it with a slam, waking Miles. He looked around and seeing no one there, he fell back asleep.

---

Ramona called in sick a couple of days later.