A Life That Fits (21 page)

Over the next few days I made a conscious
effort to step back from Loren, and he seemed to be doing the same.
I'd had several disturbingly erotic dreams about him but I wouldn't
let myself think about the heat between us when I was awake. I
couldn't. I wasn't ready to be with him, and even if he was ready
he didn't have time to be with me.

I didn't have much time either. The musical
theater orchestra wasn't coming together as well as David wanted,
so we now practiced three nights a week plus an extra session on
the weekends whenever he could schedule it. I was still enjoying
the experience, but between all those hours and the extra time I
needed to put into the new project Dana had assigned to me and
Loren, I had no time to breathe.

I tried hard
not
to breathe at my
bellydance class on Friday, since poor Nadia had a terrible cold
and I didn't want to pick it up from her. She kept her distance
from us and gave instructions by scribbling on a whiteboard, and
instead of her usual hugs at the end she waved to us all from a
safe distance.

Monday was Labour Day, which I'd usually have
spent with Alex at a friend's cottage. I didn't have time to feel
wistful, though, even if I'd wanted to, because David had set up an
all-day full rehearsal. Everyone was there, cast and crew and
musicians, and we rehearsed for hours with only a short lunch and
dinner break. I was exhausted after, but though I longed to go home
I gave in to George's pleading and had a drink with him and most of
the others to celebrate his birthday. Then I went home and fell
asleep on the couch while Harrison was still trying to get settled
in my lap.

I was still tired the next day but I
struggled through work and rehearsal. By halfway through rehearsal
I was so wiped out I started to make stupid mistakes, but I pushed
myself and managed to get through it by ignoring the fatigue.

No way to ignore the sore throat I woke up
with on Wednesday, though. If I'd swallowed razor blades and chased
them down with salt water it couldn't have hurt much more. But
Loren and I had a status meeting with the big bosses and I had my
crochet group and I couldn't miss either, so I drank about fifty
cups of tea with honey and kept going. Luckily, though it hurt to
talk my voice wasn't affected.

It was definitely affected by the next
morning, though, rough and raspy, and my throat hurt even more and
recruited the rest of my body into torturing me with a fever and
overall achiness. No rehearsal that night, so I did my best at work
and then went home and fell asleep at seven o'clock, not waking up
until seven the next morning.

Sleep should have helped, but instead it just
gave the cold a chance to take over without my being awake to
defend against it. When I woke up, I felt far worse. I couldn't
speak at all, couldn't breathe through my nose, and felt dizzy when
I stood up for more than a few seconds.

When Loren appeared at my cubicle, I shook my
head and whispered, "Go away. I'll make you sick."

"I never get colds. And if you were going to
infect me you'd have done it by now. We've been working at the same
desk all week."

"Good," I mouthed. "Bad enough I have
it."

He leaned against my doorway. "Can I get you
anything?"

I made a letter T with my fingers.

"It hurts that much to talk?"

I nodded. And to swallow and to let air
through my throat, but I didn't have the energy to tell him so.

"You should be at home."

Yeah, probably. I shook my head and pointed
at the files.

"They could go home with you. Or we could
catch up later."

I shook my head again. He knew as well as I
did we couldn't afford to get behind.

He smiled. "I'm going to start lots of
arguments with you today. I'll win every time."

I made my hands into claws and reached for
him.

He retreated as if terrified, but his chuckle
wrecked the act. "Okay, wild thing. I'll get you your tea. With
honey, right?"

I nodded, and reached for my purse.

"Never mind, I got it."

I shook my head. Why should he have to pay
for my drink?

"Sorry, can't hear you. See you soon."

He left, and I shut my eyes and put my head
down on my desk. Not even his sweetness and cuteness could make me
feel better today.

"Andrea."

I jerked upright.

"Seriously, go home. You were sound asleep
right there. I've barely been gone five minutes." He set the tea on
my desk and looked down into my eyes. "I'll keep us afloat and we
can get caught up next week."

I pulled my computer's keyboard toward me,
opened the word processor, and typed, "I have orchestra practice
tonight. If I go home I'll never leave again."

"Probably just as well. You need your
rest."

"I have to be at practice. We're not supposed
to miss any."

"You're
sick
. It's not like you're
skipping out on work to spend the day at the mall or
something."

I laughed, then winced as it hurt.

His eyes softened. "Drink your tea and see if
it helps. But if not I really think you should go home."

I drank the tea, and while it calmed me it
didn't do much for my throat. I managed to work all day, fueled by
constant tea refills provided by Loren and a chicken soup he
brought from home for me when he went home to see his dad, but I
skipped bellydancing because I couldn't imagine having to move so
much. I didn't go home, though, since I knew I wouldn't leave if I
did. I worked a little late instead, then grabbed a slice of pizza
for dinner. It burned going down so I couldn't finish it, and I was
almost in tears heading for the rehearsal. I was just so
tired
.

I was about five minutes late, since it took
me far longer than usual to walk from the subway to the rehearsal
hall, but to my surprise not even half the other musicians were
there.

David, clutching a handful of tissues, said,
"Andrea, you too? You look like I feel," with an awful croak in his
voice. "It's like a plague's hit us."

I looked around. Most of the people were
holding tissues or leaning back in their seats looking exhausted,
and the few who weren't sick had positioned themselves as far from
the others as they could. Hardly anyone was playing their
instruments, and even those people didn't sound anywhere close to
musical.

"Okay, put that clarinet together and let's
see what you can do."

I found my seat, but George wasn't in his. I
looked up at David and pointed at the empty chair.

"He's too sick to come. His boyfriend called
and said he couldn't make George stay home unless I said he should,
and from the way he sounded when Cam put him on the phone I didn't
have much choice."

I nodded, then pulled my schedule from my
music folder, wrote, "How are the performers doing?" and held it up
for David to read. If the dancers and singers were as sick as we
were...

He shook his head. "They cut last night's
rehearsal short after someone passed out, and they're taking the
weekend off. Which they so can't afford."

A chill not caused by the fever rippled down
my spine. Had I sickened everyone? Nadia might have given me her
cold despite her precautions, and I could have passed it along to
the others when we were celebrating George's birthday. Had I put
the performance in jeopardy?

Pushing air through my clarinet hurt all the
way down into my lungs, but I tried my best. The others did too,
but people kept dropping out to cough or sneeze or just gasp for
breath. David wasn't immune either, and after such a bad coughing
fit he nearly threw up he shook his head and forced himself to
speak loud enough that we could all hear him. "Forget it, guys. You
can't play and I can't conduct. We'll all take the weekend off. Do
everything you can to get better, okay? We need to get back on
track."

I did everything I could think of, as he'd
requested, but Sunday night I didn't feel any better despite all
the rest I'd got and the gallons of tea I'd drunk. I was slumped
wrapped in blankets on the couch listlessly reading a book when my
computer gave its 'new email' beep. Bored with the book, I
staggered over to check.

Folks, we're going to have to take more time off.
Too many people are still sick, and there's no point rehearsing the
few who aren't. We need everyone there. So we'll get back together
on Friday and do the walk-through of the first act we were planning
for Monday. Seven o'clock. If you're still too sick by then, let me
know. If I haven't died by then.

Take it easy,

David

If only the book had been more enthralling. I
went back to the couch and my blankets, then dissolved into tears
that hurt my throat and made it even harder to breathe.

I couldn't help crying, though. I'd sickened
everyone. We couldn't change the show dates, since the theater was
booked for months, and this week off would do us so much damage.
Nobody had mentioned being sick or unusually tired at Tuesday's
rehearsal, but I'd already been exhausted and the sore throat had
appeared the next morning. I was the Typhoid Mary of the musical
theater.

I was the cause of this whole mess.

I took Monday off work, then made myself go
in Tuesday, convinced I could handle it. I only made it until lunch
time before I was too worn out to continue, but I did take home a
stack of work over Loren's objections.

Sitting in my pajamas on the couch with
Harrison snoring beside me felt so much better than being dressed
and at work, and I actually got quite a bit of work done between
naps. I worked from home on Wednesday and Thursday, then again felt
like I could handle the office on Friday.

I was right this time; though I was still
weak I didn't feel any worse as the day went on. I even had enough
energy to have lunch with Wendy, which worked out well since she
was headed back to New York for the weekend and wanted to chat
about how to deal with the client, and to grab a quick coffee with
Loren in the afternoon. I'd missed him. We worked so well together,
bouncing ideas off each other and coming up with even better ideas
in the process, and besides I just enjoyed his company.

Nobody was enjoying anyone's company when I
got to the musical theater rehearsal hall that night after
bellydance class. Instead of the usual bustle of chat, people sat
in small isolated groups and looked grumpy. The friendly atmosphere
I'd experienced at my dance class, and the way everyone
commiserated with me on having been sick and gently teased Nadia
for her 'bellydancing virus', only made the tension and lack of
camaraderie at musical theater more obvious.

The situation didn't improve when David began
rehearsal, either. He looked exhausted but was at least able to
talk, then to yell when people were in the wrong place or messed up
their dance steps.

"We couldn't practice," a girl finally
snapped back at him. "We've been sick."

The guy playing the monkey King Louie snapped
at her in turn. "You didn't know your steps before anyhow. Most of
you guys didn't. Everyone's blaming some stupid little cold for
being useless, but I don't think it's got anything to do with it.
Admit you're slacking already."

Anyone who'd had that cold wouldn't have
dismissed it as a stupid little one, and the people who'd succumbed
were outraged. I sat, biting my lip to keep from crying, as people
I'd grown to care about fought all around me.

David eventually managed to stop them, but
his words didn't exactly soothe the savage beasts. "Shut up
already, all of you. We have no time for this. None. We're a week
behind, and this bickering isn't helping. Let's go. From the
top."

We did, but the people who'd been sick were
still so low-energy that they kept dropping out of the dance
routines and the others were frustrated by what must have felt like
a waste of their time, and the whole mess was absolutely
agonizing.

When rehearsal was finally over, David sat us
all down, ignoring the sighs from those who wanted to get home and
go back to bed. "We need to pull together. If you don't know your
notes or your steps, learn them right now. If you're tired, get
your rest, and if you were lucky enough not to get sick maybe you
could find a little sympathy for the others. We can't keep going
like this. We're all in this together, so let's act like it."

We filed out without speaking, but the way
the healthy ones and the sick ones eyed each other made it clear we
weren't exactly in it together despite his words.

I went home, so tired I couldn't think and so
upset about the way the group was crumbling because of me that I
just wanted to crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. If I hadn't
reversed my life, hadn't taken on the musical theater challenge,
they'd be fine right now. My reversal had ruined everything for
them.

I was so exhausted and worried that when I
reached my building and saw Alex on the front steps I barely even
jumped.

"Where have you been?"

"Rehearsal."

He blinked. "For what?"

"I'm playing clarinet with a musical theater
group."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really. What show
are they doing?"

I was about to answer, but my poor tired
brain finally realized that Alex shouldn't be there. "Go away. I
don't want to see you."

He obviously didn't believe me, since he
moved down the steps and put his hands on my shoulders. "I'm so
sorry for everything. I was an idiot. I've missed you so much. Have
you missed me?"

"No."

He ran a hand over my hair, as he'd always
done, as I loved him doing, and the familiar comfort of it after
the awful week I'd had made tears well up. I shut my eyes, not
wanting him to see, but he drew me a little closer and murmured,
"I'm so sorry. I love you."