“How are you feeling?” Mary’s soft voice cut through the darkness.
Opening my eyes, I stared across the bed and towards the door. “Like shit. My hand’s killing me, and I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Looking back at me, her brows furrowed. “I’m so sorry, Hun.”
Forcing a reassuring smile, I watched her cross the room and continue around the foot of the bed. As she approached my side, her hand lifted, heading for my forehead. Placing her delicate cold-fingered hand against my skin, I could tell by her grave look the news wasn’t good.
“You’re really burning up!” she said, retracting her hand, verifying my assumption.
“Told you I feel like shit.”
“We need to take you to the hospital. Now!”
“We don’t have the money for that,” closing my eyes, so I couldn’t see her fret.
“We’ll figure it out”—clutching my uninjured hand—“It was the neighbor’s kid who cut your hand, and who knows what diseases they have … they should help pay for it.”
“Sam and his family are in a lot worse shape than we are”—squeezing her hand with a feigned smile—“I think I’ll feel better after a nap.”
“Let me check your hand first,” Mary said as she released my hand.
Keeping my eyes closed, I could feel Mary’s fingernail picking against the top of my hand, trying to get the corner of the bandage up. After a few more dull pressured scrapes and a low irritated sigh, she forced a corner of the tape up.
“I’m going to try to be careful,” Mary warned as I felt my skin stretch against the tape as she pulled it.
Hoping that this would be over soon, I turned in her direction and cracked my eyes. “How’s it looking?”
“It’s definitely red, but at least there’s no pus,” Mary answered with an uneasy chuckle.
“That’s good news,” I answered, closing my eyes again. “This feeling is probably just a coincidence.”
“Maybe it’s something you picked up from work,” Mary halfheartedly said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. Feeling her push down on my hand to reseal the bandage, “I still don’t understand why Billy would stab you with a fork?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
“I hope it wasn’t in his mouth prior to stabbing you.” Mary’s concerning tone shined through my closed eyes.
“Well, it is a fork, so…”
“Even sick, you’re a smart ass,” she said, re-squeezing my hand.
“You know who you married.” I answered, with my eyes still shut.
“I’ll let you take your nap,” Mary said with another squeeze.
“Thanks, Love.”
Releasing her hand, I withdrew my hand under the blanket and pulled it closer to my face. As I further attempted to cocoon myself, I could hear her timid exhale, trying to keep her irritation from showing.
“If you’re not feeling better by this afternoon, I’m dragging you to the ER.”
“Deal.”
“Get some sleep.”
I heard her answer as incoherent shapes appeared in the recesses of my closed eyes just as my consciousness slipped.
J.L. Gang 
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