Slamming the back hatch of the car, Martha felt a slight tickle in her throat. No, not a virus, not today, that wouldn't be fair. She thought her legs ached from all the walking she had done over the weekend, enjoying the trails through the giant fresh smelling eucalyptus on the college campus. Maybe that wasn't the reason her calves pinched and throbbed. She rolled her head around in circle, stretching her neck in all directions. There, on the right, the tight spasm she generally had before a bug hit her. Sore throat, aches in arms and legs, a crick in the neck - probably a virus. She walked back into the house, flopping down onto the left side of the dual recliner couch. Grabbing a hold of the quilt she kept there, tucking it around her legs and pulling it up under her chin, she closed her eyes for a moment, thinking a power nap might help. Her mind raced. Should she delay leaving if she was sick? What would that do to her schedule? She had bumped up her departure date twice, once to add a trip to Bryce Canyon and once to give herself more time in Prescott. If she delayed she would have to skip those things. Or maybe she should just change her itinerary all together? Shivering, she pulled the quilt up closer to her chin. It sure was cold today. What kind of weather would this mean for the drive over the high mountain passes? It was really cold. Oh, no. Not cold, chills. Great. She really was sick. Time to be an adult and realize that a woman with a fever and chills could not jump in the car and take off on a trip, no matter how eager she was to leave.
"I think I'm sick."
"Oh, I think I'm sick too." Glen did sound congested, his voice deep and gravelly.
"I guess if I'm really sick I can't leave tomorrow." Maybe somehow Glen would think of something she hadn't thought of yet.
"Guess not."
That wasn't the answer she had hoped for.
Martha decided a hot shower, laying with some hydrogen peroxide in each ear and a dose of airborne was all she could do. She went to bed early, shivering under three quilts.
The next morning Martha awoke and lay still. Was she sick? She had slept well and felt rested. Her throat burned as if she had swallowed some toxic substance mixed up in Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory. I think I'll get up and have breakfast and then make a decision. She did just that, taking it slow, finishing the last minute packing. As she checked off the last item on the list, she glanced at the stack of journals she had set out to take, then put back inside when it became apparent she would not have room for them in the overloaded car. Picking up her favorite, plain black cover, decorated with collaged magazine pictures, some lined pages, some plain, she carried it out to the car with her, placing it atop the stack of pillows on the back seat. As she sat in the driver's seat, ticking off things in her mind one more time, she felt the dull ache of fever once again. Her head felt heavy, as if the top half was filled with thick yogurt, while her sinuses dripped with thin water. She didn't feel excited about leaving, yet she could not make herself stay. As she backed the car out of the drive she didn't hear the muffled clunk of the journal sliding off the pillows and slipping through a thin crack between the seats, settling into the dark space under the seat.
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