“Mrs-er, Ms. Masters has some bruising on her cheek. It’s lucky that the strikes didn’t land directly on her temple, that could’ve had dire consequences. But with some rest”-he addresses me directly-“you should heal okay. But… Ms. Masters-”
“Clarissa, please.”
He nods. “Clarissa. You are severely dehydrated, and I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something to eat. ‘
“Sure I have.”
“She’s lying,” Matthias says. “I’ve seen her at work, twice. She never drinks anything.”
“I. Hey, you don’t… know…” I argue, although every person in the room, including the one I just met five minutes ago, knows I’m lying.
“Well, Clarissa, you need to eat and you need to drink something, right away.” He turns to Matthias.
“Can you get something for her to drink?”
“Already done, Doc.”
The doctor stands up and gives me a little smile. “Get some rest. I’ve written a prescription for some painkillers but you should get a more thorough workup, some blood work. You look a little pale.” He glances at Matthias. “I’ll come check in on her in a few days if that’s okay.”
“Wait, doctor.” I clear my dry throat, embarrassed about what I have to say. “You don’t have my insurance info.” Probably because I don’t currently have health insurance. A hot, humiliated flush creeps up my chest. It was just a luxury I didn’t have the budget for.
He just smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he says with a little wave and walks toward the door.
Matthias follows. “Give the prescription to Kevin, he’ll take care of it,” Matthias says in a lowered voice. “Thanks again, man. I owe you,” he finishes and pats him on the back before closing the door behind him.
I feel my teeth grit as Matthias takes the seat that the doctor just vacated, eyes on me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“Fine people don’t faint.”
“You don’t know.” I’m being stubborn and I know it. “I was tired. It must’ve been almost three in the morning.”
His exasperation hangs in the air for a moment. “You do it every day, Rissie. You’re telling me you faint every day after work?”
This isn’t going well for me. “What’s your point?”
“You should’ve let me take you to get checked out before.” Guilt cracks his voice. “I should’ve made you go.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with him. I just want to close my eyes and fall asleep for a hundred years. The doctor was right; I haven’t really been eating and drinking enough water. It’s a little embarrassing to admit that I’ve been scrimping and saving. Pouring every dime into the club, for months, so that I feel like even money for the cheapest meal food could pay for nicer napkins or better straws,
You fainted in front of Matthias and now you’re lying in his bed. I think being worried about being embarrassed is far gone. That bitch in my head never takes a day off, does she.
“I’ll just lay here for a few minutes, and then I’ll be on my way,” I say, closing my eyes, laying back against the pillow.
“You’re going to stay here until you feel better and I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” He looks agitated. Like he has the audacity to be pissed at me for not wanting to be a burden to him.
Owing Matthias for anything doesn’t sit well with me.
We don’t talk for a few minutes. Me because the pounding in my head feels like it is playing a Strauss waltz on my optic nerve; Matthias probably because he’s trying to figure out what we can argue about next.
A soft knock on the door interrupts our silence and he gets up to answer it. There’s a rattling and a few murmurs and then the door closes.
Something weighs on the bed and out of pure curiosity, I open my eyes. Matthias has put down a silver tray next to me on the bed and is pouring something out of the teapot into a cup. Seeing it dislodges a painful memory from the past. The fine bone china tea set with this robin’s egg wheat pattern was designed just for the Baxter family by Annette by Baxter, the china and porcelain manufacturing business started by Matthias’s great grandmother. Only a direct descendant of the Baxter line can own the tea set. Damien had a set too. And when I left, I smashed every last item. Not that it mattered. He could just get another set out of the family vault. But it was strangely satisfying.
The fragrance wafting from the cup is warming, a soft but permeating spice, with a touch of lavender. I don’t recognize it. And that’s hard for an Englishwoman to admit. Tea is my only luxury. And when I packed up my things, I took as many clothes as I could shove into my suitcases and three canisters of Harney & Sons Assam tea from my father’s kitchen.
Matthias walks around the bed, the cup and saucer in his hands. Concern clouds his eyes. “Um.” He looks down at his hands, over at me and then back at his hands. “Can you hold the saucer, or should I get you a mug?”
His thoughtfulness is touching. “I can hold it, thank you.”
“Are you sure?” I look up to see if he’s mocking me, but his eyes are open, genuine.
I just hold out my hand and take the saucer from him, concentrating to make sure my hand doesn’t shake. “This smells amazing. What is it?”
“It’s-” he starts and then closes his mouth. “It’s a tea I found in an Asian tea shop. It’s chrysanthemum, lavender and nutmeg. It should help your headache while we wait for the meds. And maybe help you sleep a little.”
It surprises me that he has this concoction, but I think he might be right, even the scent wafting up my nose is already working its magic in my lungs. I take a little sip, the hot tea burning, momentarily helping to distract me from the other pains in my body.