I look back at the ground and shake my head again. “No.”
He nods and stays silent as the lift doors open.
I slowly make my way into my apartment and Max smiles. “I will be out here if you need me, ok?”
I nod and close the door quickly behind me. I don’t have it in me for someone to be nice to me at the moment. I may crack under the pressure. Why didn’t I just go to Hawaii with the girls? I walk to the kitchen and instantly go to the medicine cabinet. I need something that will knock me out and stop me thinking. I can’t deal with this damn headache today. I finally find some Mercindol and take three and then drink a large glass of milk to fill my stomach.
I shower and dress and crawl onto the lounge under a blanket.
I wake to the feel of my hair being swiped back from my forehead and my blanket being rearranged over me.
“What’s wrong?” Joshua asks.
“Nothing, just a headache. I’m ok,” I whisper as I pull the blanket up to my chin in a defensive manner.
He stands over me and puts his hands on his hips. “You don’t look ok, you look like shit,” he murmurs.
I look up at him and smirk. “You look worse, but thanks for the compliment.”
He flops onto the lounge next to me and throws his feet onto my coffee table. For ten minutes he sits next to me and I can feel the anger radiating out of him. In the end it gets the better of me and I can no longer keep my mouth shut.
“Did you come over here to ignore me, Joshua?” I ask.
He bites his thumbnail and shakes his head.
I roll my eyes and pull my blanket back up around my face. “Whatever,” I murmur.
For another half an hour I sit with him fuming next to me and my head feels like it is about to explode. “What is it Joshua? Why did you come here if you are furious?”
He jumps up in a rush. “I’m not mad with you,” he yells, and my eyes close from the echoing sound.
I frown. “Who are you mad with?” I reply.
“Myself mostly.”
I frown again. “Why?” The pain in my head becomes so intense that my eyes tear up and it starts to throb. I can’t handle this conversation now.
“Because I can’t stay away from you!” he yells.
I sit up and frown at him.
“Every goddamn day at three o’clock I start to watch my clock counting the hours until I see you and it makes me sick.”
My eyes fill with tears as my head starts to really thump. “It makes you sick missing me?” I ask, mortified.
“I shouldn’t miss you. I should hate you, I shouldn’t feel the way I do about you!”
The pain in my head becomes too much to bear. “But I love you,” I whisper as the stupid tears roll onto my cheeks.
“Natasha!” he screams. “Are you listening to me at all?”
My head throbs and my tears fall. I don’t have the strength to deal with him now. I stand slowly. “Joshua, I am unwell. I can’t argue with you tonight. I need to go to bed,” I whisper in a strained voice.
He frowns as his face falls. “Are you ok?”
I shake my head. “No, I am not. I have a terrible headache. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I need some still Josh, please give me some still.”
I wake to the sound of a glass smashing. I sit up in a rush and flick the lamp on. Natasha isn’t in bed and I immediately jump up and run out into the lounge room.
“Natasha,” I call in a panic.
“In here, baby, I’m ok,” she calls from the bathroom. Relief hits me, thank god. I go to the bathroom and find that she is anything but ok. She is on the floor on her knees throwing up and her hands are shaking heavily as she tries to hold herself up.
I drop to my knees next to her. “What’s the matter?” I ask as I brush her hair back from her perspiration-clad forehead.
“Migraine,” she whispers. “Can you get me my phone please?”
I nod and run from the room. I don’t know anything about migraines. “Where is it?” I call in a panic from the bedroom.
“In the wardrobe in my handbag,” she replies.
I run into the wardrobe and flick on the light as my eyes dart around the small space. I’m getting her a new wardrobe on Monday. This is ridiculous. Shit, there are about ten handbags all hanging from a shelf. “Which one?” I call but she doesn’t answer. “Natasha, which bag?” She doesn’t answer again and I sprint back to the bathroom to find her throwing up again.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
She continues to throw up violently and I run my hands nervously through my hair.
“Max,” she whispers.
I screw up my face. “Huh?”
“Ring Max,” she groans.
My eyes widen as she throws up again, she’s going to die any minute. I sprint to the bedroom and grab my phone off the bedside and dial Max’s number.
“Hello,” he answers.
“Max get up here, Natasha has a migraine and I don’t know what to do.”
“I will call her doctor,” he answers calmly.
“Do you have the number?” I snap.
“Yes, this happens a lot.”
My eyes widen in horror, a lot … what does that mean? “Ok.” I hang up.
I run back to the bathroom to find Natasha holding her head and crying as her hands shake violently. What the hell is going on? I fall to the floor next to her and cut my hand on a piece of broken glass on the floor. “Shit,” I snap.
“I broke a glass. I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Tash, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?” I pull her onto my lap and hold her head as she cries.
“The doctor will be here soon,” she sobs in a calming voice as if sensing my fear. What if she is having an aneurysm?
“It’s ok, I’m ok,” she whispers as she comforts me. “I’m ok, baby, go and unlock the door.”
I nod and ease her down onto the ground beside me and unlock the door. Max is waiting outside.
“Where is she?” he asks.
“In the bathroom,” I answer as I run back up the hall towards her.