Storybook epic continued

When we left off, our Gentleman friend was falling rather ill and being assisted by the Maiden. The scene is the Gentleman's bedroom. Weak winter afternoon sunlight is trying valiantly to work its way into the spartan room. Our Maiden is scurrying about, replacing the Gentleman's soiled linens and bedcloths with clean ones and gathering up the dirty ones with an uncomplaining efficiency born of experience...



"I'm going to fetch a doctor and then come straight back," she said to her unaware patient as she laid a cool compress on his forehead.

Out the door she flew and down the street to the Jewish quarter, where the best doctors dwelled. She never could have afforded a Jewish doctor herself, but she was confident the Gentleman would only want the best and had the cash to back it. She led the grey-haired physican back the Gentleman's flat, where he conducted a thorough examination.

"It's not too serious," he concluded. "In a child or older person this flu might be dangerous, but he's in sound health and there's no reason why he should make a full recovery in a few days. He should have care, though. He can't be left alone until he's able to get up and about. The most important thing is to keep him hydrated. He should sip lots of clear liquids -- water, broth -- whenever he is awake. Is there someone who can look after him for a couple days?"

"I will look after him," said the Maiden, relieved that his illness was not life threatening.

She went home that evening to ask the Grand Lady, her employer, if she could have a couple days off to nurse the Gentleman. The Grand Lady was pleased that her lowly governess had attracted the attention of such elegant company, and though she was saddened at the prospect of loosing her hard-working employee, whe was happy for the Maiden and hoped the relationship would turn out well for her. She granted her permission.

For two days the Maiden nursed the Gentleman. He continued to vomit and was delirious. The Maiden used the time while he slept to wash linens and press them damp to dry them faster. She barely slept.

At the end of the second day, as she was nodding off in a chair by the bed, the Gentleman awoke. His fever had broke, and he regained his senses. He was surprised to find himself in bed. The last thing he remembered was leaving the banker's office. He looked about himself and saw the Maiden slumped in the chair, dozing lightly.

"Good morning," he said.

She woke and looked at him.

"Or perhaps I should say 'good evening.' I have no idea what time it is."

"It's not quite 6 in the evening," she informed him, glancing at the clock on the wall opposite. "How do you feel?"

"Dazed, weak, thirsty. Yes, that about sums it up."

"That's to be expected. You've been through an ordeal." And she told him all about the past two days, how she found him stumbling home, incoherent, and the doctor and all (though she left out the bits about undressing him). He thanked her generously for all her care and attention, and assured the Maiden that though he was tired, he was quite sure he could do for himself from here on out. Furthermore, he insisted that she go home and get a proper night's sleep in her own bed. The Maiden hesitated to go so soon, but the Gentleman was adamant that he could manage, and she'd done so much already. Finally she was pursuaded, but insisited on being allowed to stop by in the morning to check up on him and fix him breakfast.

The next morning when the Maiden arrived, the Gentleman was much stronger. He was puttering about in his dressing gown, fixing a pot of tea. The Maiden was satisfied with his progress, and after a cup of tea and a quiet chat, she excused herself to return to her child-minding duties.

As the Grand Lady watched the Maiden return to work she smiled to herself. Though she was certain the Maiden had no such alterior motive, she was sure that after having been nursed back to health the Gentleman was sure to propose.


And then an odd thing happened. Just two days after the Maiden returned to work, she stopped in the grocer for a bite of cheese on her way to collect the children after school. She was hungry, and just needed a nibble. The grocer was friendly, and sold her a scrap for a couple pennies. It was good cheese, smooth and sharp at the same time. She brought the children home and began to help them with their homework, as was usual. She was reading a story in French with the little one when a wave a nausea came over her. It started in her stomach and built up behind her ears. She swallowed hard and wondered what caused it, as she felt fine in all other respects. She continued to read.

And then it happened again. Only this time, the nausea didn't stop behind her ears, it crashed through her head like a tsunami and as it left it took all the contents of her stomach with it. She lurched forward and felt as though her entire body had turned in-side out. The agile children successfully dodged the onsalught.

"Get your mother," the Maiden instructed, wiper her mouth with her sleeve.

The children lept from the room, hollering. A few moments later the Grand Lady appeared.

"You've obviously got what your Gentlman friend had," she delcared. "I need to remove the children from the house. I'll send for a nurse to look after you. You poor thing..." And she left the room and took the children with her.

The Maiden staggered to her feet and made her way downstairs to her quarters. Unfastening her apron, she flopped onto her bed and waited. And waited. No one came. She listened to the footsteps on the floors above her as the Grand Lady and her children quickly packed to leave. Soon a nurse will come, she thought, and help me into my nightgown. But no one came.

While she was waiting she continued to throw up in the antique chamber pot by her bed. She heard the front door close shut. She was alone.

Then she felt a movement in her abdomen that was somewhere below her stomach. It churned. It seemed to be demanding something. It took her brain a moment to catch up, but suddenly she realized what the sensation was. She bolted for the toilet. She made it. Sort of.

She sat on the toilet for almost an hour with the bathroom rubbish bin on her lap, ejecting fluids from every orifice in her body. It was miserable, and still no one came.

When the diarreha subsided, she returned to bed, feeling very weak but clearheaded. This didn't seem to be the fever the Gentleman had. In fact, she had no fever. Nor any congestion, nor achy muscles, nor any other symptom of the flu. Other than vomitting and shitting unconrtollably, she was fine. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think it was... But what could she have eaten? No mayonaise that day, no fish, no poulty, if her eggs at breakfast had been bad she'd have gotten sick long before now, as would the children. The cheese? Could she have gotten a rancid bit of cheese from the grocer? That must be it. Nothing else could account. She threw up again.

Her back and chest were beginning to ache from all the retching and heaving, and she had a splitting headach from all the pressure behind her eyes. She heard a knock at her door. She was unable to get to the door, but she heard the latch open. She called out weakly, "Who is it?"

"Just me," came the gentle reply. She knew that voice. She loved that voice. And right now, it was the most comforting sound in the world.

"Come in," she said. A golden-haloed face peered around the corner of her bedroom door. There was the Gentleman, holding a nosegay of wildflowers.

"What ever is the matter?" he asked. "Are you ill?"

"Rather. Isn't that why you're here?"

"No, I just came to thank you for... um, everything. But it seems the old adage is still true, about no good deed going unpunished."

"Actually, I'm fairly certain I don't have what you had. It feels a lot more like food poisoning. I think I bought some rancid cheese today."

"Still, I should be on my way. I really don't want to get sick again. I'm awfully sorry you're feeling so rotten. I'll come back in a couple days."

"Wait! Please don't go! The family has left me all alone. I've no one to help me, and I can barely walk. And I don't have what you had. Food poisoning isn't contaigous, so you're in no danger. And even IF i had your flu, which I don't, you've already got the antibodies for it, so you can't get it again. You're completely safe. Please..."

"I really don't think I should risk it. I hope you feel better soon." And he turned and left.

"Please don't leave me alone!" cried the Maiden. "There's no risk!" But the Man was gone.

The Maiden sobbed and sobbed. She's never felt so abandoned in her life. She couldn't understand how anyone could just leave her in that condition, let alone someone she thought was her friend, and particularly a friend whom she had only just days ago nursed through a miserable illness. How could he leave her like that? She would have done more for a complete stranger.

She continued to retch. There was nothing left in her stomach, but her gut was stuck in a cycle of violent spasms, and she was powerless to make them stop. All night long it continued, her body doubling over with no warning and all the muscles of her chest and lower back contracting painfully.

And then it stopped, just as abruptly as it started. After heaving steadily for over 10 hours, her stomach quieted down and lay dormant, like a volcano that has become weary of its thunderous, ground-shaking erruptions and sends our a couple final light whiffs of smoke. The Maiden was relieved, and knew the worst was over. She decided to rest, and in a few hours, she would try sipping some water.

But she was unable to rest. The spasms in her back left her in agonizing pain. She suspected that she had pulled several muscles. She tried to get comforatble, but no matter how she lay, her back ached excruciatingly, and so she cried softly to herself.

There was a knock at the door, and she heard the latch open.

"Hello?" said the Man's voice. "May I come in?"

Without waiting for a reply, he opened the bedroom door and padded into the room. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Is it morning?"

"See for yourself." He drew back the heavey curtains which covered the small window. Cold, hard light flew into the room and stung her eyes. "Ah, you're feeling better already, I can see it in your face. Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't sleep at all. My back hurst so much I can't even lie comfortably. If I try to move, it hurts. If I lie still, it hurts. God, how it hurts!" and she would have cried, but by this time the poor woman was so dehydrated her body couln't generate tears. "Would you do me a favor, please?"

"Of course."

Now you're perfectly obliging, you pansy-ass twit, she though. "I need to rest, but I can't sleep because my back is in so much pain, and I can't take any pain-killers because my stomach is still much to fragile. In my country you can buy a cream that you rub on your skin and it eases muslce pain. Would you please walk to the chemist and ask if a similar product is available here? Or if not, ask the chemist what he recommends for my situation."

"I could, but I can tell you now there is nothing like that available. I've never heard of such a thing. And I can tell you exaclty what the chemist would say. He'd say 'lots of fluids, lots of rest.'"

"You may be right, but could you please check? Maybe they sell it and you've just never noticied it before. And it would really help me to sleep, which you agree is what I need."

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure we don't have anything like that here. You can add it to the list with rootbeer and graham crackers as another one of our short-comings," he smiled, and left the room. A moment later he returned with a glass of water, which he set on her night table. "Here you are. When your stomach is feeling ready, you can sip on this," and he turned to leave.

She almost begged him to stay and keep her company, but she was too pissed off at him to ever want to see his fucking cherubic face again. She heard the door close. Again. Bastard.





Stay tuned for part 3: Enter the dashing Rogue.