Maxie wasn't sure how long he'd been on bed-rest. Obviously, it had been worse than a cold.
"It was a fever," she said and he looked at her blankly thinking he might start talking in a foreign language. Was he losing his mind? Of course, he'd lost his voice. That didn't really help matters. He looked at her face as her hair hide her eyes. One moment she was Franny. The next she wasn't. A part of him felt so sad that it couldn't be true. That a close friend was still alive.
He winced in tears then. A part of him felt so helpless. What use was there for him in this life. He shrank away then, hugging himself under the covers. He missed his baby daughter and his wife too.
She brought him his cell then. She had charged it.
"Should I call someone?" Her hand touched his bare back and he flinched as if might be pure pain to call home. For starters, he had no voice.
"Please, let me call someone." She seemed determined.
He felt like crying, but what good would that do? A part of him felt sick, again. He would not watch as she clicked on the phone and pulled up his contacts. Lord, knows who she would call. He couldn't think who would be on the top of his contact list.
"Hullo." She made contact with someone. "Yes, this is in regard of Max Graves. Do you know him?" It was quiet then. Finally, she said. "Me name is Ari, Ari MacDonald, and I found him out here, in the country. He's rather ill. And he can't speak....."
Maxie nursed his bottom lip. She wasn't even Franny.
After she put his cell away. She put her hand on his forehead.
"You are better. You really are." She made it sound like a promise, but what did she really know? Maxie looked up at her as if she didn't know the half of it.
Day 18 -nanowrimo
2 days ago