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There was someone knocking at Trinity’s door. The sound woke her from a miserable, fitful doze and continued. Whoever was there clearly wasn’t going away.
“Huckleberry, the door!” she shouted and then a coughing fit overtook her. She curled into a tighter ball in her sweaty sheets, her throat raw and painful, remembering too late that Dennis was at Robby’s place.
There was a pause and then the knocking started up again.
Trinity groaned, threw back the covers and staggered towards the front door. She was going to kill whoever was there.
She yanked open the door, lips curled in a snarl and then froze.
Victoria Javadi was standing on her front door, hand still upraised. She was wearing a mask and holding a massive canvas tote in her other hand.
“Oh, you look bad,” Victoria said.
“Crash?” Trinity asked in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering my texts. Dennis told me you were sick, so I came over. I’m not going to ignore my girlfriend while she’s sick,” Victoria said, sounding affronted.
She seemed to realize what she said and her mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly uncertain about her words after the fact.
“I mean - I assumed we’re girlfriends-“
“We’re obviously dating, Crash,” Trinity said, as if she hadn’t exhaustively dissected if going to dinner, a movie, and then fingering Victoria while they made out counted as a date with Huckleberry last Sunday morning.
She stepped back from the door and gestured for Victoria to enter.
Victoria headed to the kitchen, put her tote bag on the counter and started to take things out.
Trinity followed her, slumping at the kitchen table.
Before she could think of what to say next, there was a thermometer in her mouth.
“101.5,” Victoria said when it beeped. “When was the last time you took an antipyretic?”
Trinity thought. “This morning?”
Victoria pulled a box of Tylenol Cold & Flu out of the tote bag.
“Do you want water or juice?” she asked.
“Juice,” Trinity said to be difficult. There wasn’t any in her fridge.
“Orange or cran-apple?” Victoria pulled both out of the tote.
Trinity felt her eyes sting. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her like this.
After she’d taken her medicine, Victoria asked if she could handle eating something.
Trinity thought she could, and Victoria pulled out a tupperware container.
“I had our chef make arroz caldo,” she said, decanting the still steaming soup into one of Trinity’s bowls and bringing it over to her.
It was perfect. The rice was soft and flavorful, the chicken-based broth savory. When she swallowed, the warmth (the temperature, the mix of garlic and ginger) was soothing on her raw throat. The last time she’d eaten something had been yesterday. Half the bowl was gone before Trinity had realized how hungry she was. She could practically feel her blood sugar stabilizing.
“This is delicious,” Trinity said. “Are you going to have some?”
Victoria shook her head and then tapped her mask. “I cannot get sick right now,” she said. “I start my surgical rotation on Monday, it’s going to be a nightmare.”
“It’s not going to be that bad,” Trinity argued. She’d fucking loved her sugical rotation.
“It is going to be that bad,” Victoria argued. “I am going to have to work all day with my mother and Garcia, who hates me now.”
“Garcia doesn’t hate you,” Trinity scoffed, her spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl.
Victoria did not look convinced.
After Trinity finished eating, Victoria suggested a shower.
The steam helped - she was almost breathing normally when she came out of the bathroom to find Victoria making her bed. Despite her rich, nepo-baby status she did make a bed neatly.
It felt almost indecent, sliding onto clean, cool sheets in fresh pajamas.
“Are you tired or do you want to watch a movie or something?” Victoria asked.
Trinity was tired but she didn’t want Victoria to go.
“Movie,” she requested. Victoria pulled out her laptop, cued up the Mean Girls musical.
They settled into bed, their backs against the wall, Trinity under the covers, Victoria on top.
Trinity felt herself slump against Victoria almost immediately, eyelids fluttering closed.
She woke up a couple hours later, lying flat on her back. She stretched out her legs. The movement felt good. Her fever had broken. She took a couple of deep breaths. Her throat was only little sore and her lungs expanded and contracted smoothly.
The laptop has been set aside and Victoria was culled up on her side, facing Trinity.
Trinity shifted in the bed so she could stare directly at Victoria, her girlfriend(!).
Unsurprisingly, Victoria was adorable when she slept. Her wavy hair was spread across Trinity’s pillow, her eyelashes inky against her cheeks. In her sleep her mouth was pursed in a little concerned moue, like even asleep she had something to worry about. The earloop of one side of her mask had come undone and the mask had twisted itself off, ending up uselessly scrunched up under her other cheek.
Victoria gave a little cough in her sleep.