Chapter 2: Fever Dreams

Patrick woke at six the next morning with a headache.

He had made it back to the hotel room, and into his bed before anyone else had arrived. He was glad to have been able to avoid any questions about the mark on his face. Reminded of it, Patrick reached up to see how tender the bruise had become. He was please to notice there was no pain from it. Sighing, his head starting to pound, he crawled out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

They had worked out a system, while on vacation, to allow everyone time in the small bathroom each morning. Patrick’s turn was first, since he needed the least amount of time. After him, it would be his father, followed by his mother, and then finally his sister, who always took the longest in the morning.

Walking into the bathroom and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he hoped the mark on his face had gone down enough to be less noticeable than it was last night. Closing the door and turning on the light, his eyes slowly adjusted from the darkness of the hotel room.

After a moment, Patrick stared into the mirror. He couldn’t quite believe his eyes. The hand-print was completely gone. Even the cut below his eye had fully healed, as if it had never been there.

Patrick breathed a sigh of relief, thinking to himself, “Maybe Tara hadn’t hit me as hard as I had thought.”

His relief was only brief though, as pain shot through his head. The pain radiated in his head, piercing the backs of his eyes. He quickly turned off the lights.

“God! I hate these migraines,” Patrick muttered to himself.

Deciding that his head could not stand a shower, he took care of his other morning business quickly.

He took a moment to wet a washcloth with cold water and swallow a couple Tylenol. He did not have migraines very often, but now he wished he had thought to bring his migraine medicine on this trip.

Walking slowly back to his bed, he laid down and covered his face with the wet cloth. His father, Frank, noticing the look on Patrick’s face decided to say nothing to him.

Frank quickly went into the bathroom, to get ready himself.

Patrick’s mother, on the other hand, did not remain quiet.

“Another headache, honey?” She asked, causing Patrick to wince at the sound of her slightly too loud voice.

Sometimes, Patrick wondered if she deliberately did things to test him. Maybe it was her motherly way of judging just how bad he really felt.

“Ugh,” was all Patrick to muster in reply.

“Just lie down and rest, sweetheart. Your father will take care of any packing you have left. Maybe, by the time we are ready to leave, you will be feeling better,” Sally offered, speaking softly enough this time to not make his headache worse.

Patrick sighed with relief and closed his eyes. The cool cloth on his face soothing the worst of the pain. He tried to sleep, but with the headache and the sounds of the others getting ready, he just couldn’t drift off. The rest did help ease the pain though. By the time he had to get up and move to the car, he was able to navigate the hotel halls without too much trouble.

On the way to the airport, Patrick noticed the heat of the day was already becoming oppressive, and asked his father to turn on the air conditioning.

“Are you sure you want it on? It’s not that hot yet and the cold could make your headache worse,” Frank asked him, a little concerned.

“I’m roasting back here, Dad,” was all Patrick could think of to respond.

Frank turned on the air conditioning, but it seemed to do little to help for the rest of the trip to the airport.

Arriving at the airport, Patrick and his family went through the now tiresome ritual of checking in and passing through TSA security. It was an inconvenience, but most of the passengers now accepted it as a necessary ordeal.

It was not long after, that Patrick was following his parents and sister down the long hall to the small jet they would take back to Cleveland. Reclining in his seat, he gladly noticed, the trip back would not be full.

Patrick spent the entire flight fighting chills and aches. He started to wonder if it wasn’t just a normal headache. Maybe he was coming down with something.

“At least, if I’m getting sick, it’s on the way home. It would have sucked if I had to spend my whole vacation sick in the hotel. However, if I’d had been sick the whole time I wouldn’t have screwed up so royally with Tara, “ a small part of Patrick mused.

He tried to curl up as much as possible in the airplane seat, it wasn’t comfortable but he was able to sleep for most of the two and a half hour flight back.

By the time they landed, Patrick was having a hard time thinking. His mind seemed to have been clouded over in a fog. He decided he definitely had a flu.

For the first time, he wondered if he had gotten sick from the failed kiss he had with Tara.

“That’s just a stupid thought! How would I get sick that quickly just from a kiss. I must be really out of it, if I actually considered that,” he chastised himself.

He found it much easier to simply follow his parents through the airport and out to their car, than to keep thinking about that night.

Getting into the back seat, Patrick quickly fell asleep and did not awaken until they had arrived home.

His mother placed her hand on his forehead and declared, “Young man, you have a fever. I want you to march right up to bed and get some sleep. Your father and I will carry your things into the house. I’ll send Lily up with a bowl of soup in a bit.”

Patrick slowly nodded his head, trudged into the house, and upstairs to his room. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was fast asleep. Shuddering slightly, he began to dream.

The little girl looked up with tears in her eyes.

She was almost six and a half years old, and the mean older boy down the street had taken her doll from her. Now he wasn’t giving it back. He just kept laughing at her and jumping away every time she grabbed for it.

“Awww, are you going to cry some more,” he taunted, as he started to swing the doll over his head by the hair.

“Stop it! Give ‘er back! You’re gonna hurt ‘er!” she cried out at him, lunging again to try to get her doll back.

Suddenly, she got a grip on the dolls legs. The boy, noticing her solid grip, began pulling away from her.

Between the two of them, the dolls neck could not take the stress. The little girl stumbled backwards, and fell into the dirt holding the headless doll in her hands.

Seeing what had happened to her favorite doll, she started to sob all over again.

The boy laughed as he threw the head into the dirt, beside where the girl had crumpled to the ground, and walked away. He smiled as he listed to the girl crying out that he had killed Christy.

“Patrick, Mom said I needed to bring this to you, and make sure you eat,” Lily said as she walked into his room carrying a bowl of chicken soup on a tray.

“Come on sleepy head! Wake up and eat!” Lily said louder, pulling the covers down from his face.

She gasped slightly as his face came into view. It was very pale and his cheeks were slightly sunken. His hair was pressed to his head and seemed matted with sweat.

Patrick groaned, rolling all the way over. He slid up on the bed to sit with his back against the headboard. There were tracks from his eyes and it almost looked as if he had been crying in his sleep.

Reaching for the tray, Patrick thanked his sister, “Thanks Christy, um ... I mean Lily. Actually, I’m starving so I don’t think there’s any danger of me not eating this.

“Do you think you could sneak some milk up to me also? I know Mom doesn’t like us drinking milk while we are sick, but I have a really strong craving for some right now,” he asked his big sister.

Lily was confused for a moment when he called her Christy. She glanced at him suspiciously.

“Maybe he’s having a hard time thinking. Should I ask Mom to call the doctor? Well ... he did look like he was dreaming when I woke him, so maybe it’s just that. Maybe he wasn’t totally awake when he answered me,” Lily thought to herself.

She shrugged her shoulders, saying, “Well, maybe I can just get a glass and let them think it is for me. I’ll be right back. But, you’d better not let Mom find out I gave it to you, or my ass will be in the fire!”

“Thanks, sis,” Patrick tried to smile at her, but with how he felt, he couldn’t be sure if it appeared.

Lily left and Patrick ravenously ate the soup. When he finished it he was hoping Lily might bring him a second bowl with his milk.

Shortly, Lily returned with a tall glass of cold milk, but sadly, no more soup. She waited while he drained the glass. Then she took the tray with the demolished remains of his meal.

As soon as the door closed, Patrick returned to sleep.

The eight year old girl was thrilled! Today was her birthday, and her parents had promised her a new bike this year.