As she opened the door to her dark, quiet condominium, Claire wondered about Amber. How would she behave toward Claire tomorrow? Was Tony systematically removing her external support, in essence whittling away her chess pieces?

Lying in her cool bed, Claire’s tired mind tried to regroup. Did she still have any power? Could she fight him? The questions and answers processed slower and slower as she tried to debate her options. Sleep overtook her. There was no doubt. To paraphrase a book her mother used to read to her as a child, it had been a terrible, horrible, very bad, and very long day. She couldn’t even rise triumphant over sleep.

You cannot make the same mistake twice.
Because the second time you make it, it is not a mistake,
it is a choice.
-- Unknown

Chapter 38

The incessant ringing of her alarm jolted Claire from her sound blissful sleep. Her mind reeled with why she’d set an alarm. Rarely did she need to wake at a definite time. Besides, she didn’t get to bed until almost three the night before. As she sat up to turn off the noise, her stomach twisted, and she fell against the pillows. Closing her eyes she willed the rapid onset of nausea to pass.

The alarm continued to assault the silence of her normally peaceful room; nevertheless, Claire feared moving to stop the ringing. Perspiration beaded her entire body. Suddenly her light silk nightgown moistened and plastered against her clammy skin. Slowly she tried to remove the covers from her sweat drenched legs. Her focus increased with each movement. Claire prayed if she earnestly concentrated, she could keep the contents of her stomach in-check.

Exhaling repeatedly, she stared at the bright ceiling. Mindlessly she realized she’d forgotten to close the blinds the night before. Through the wrenching intestinal pain, her eyes squinted against the added assault of the unrestrained morning sunlight flooding her room.

Suddenly, Claire remembered the reason for an alarm. She was supposed to meet Tony at ten. Could her impending meeting be the origin of her current illness? Perhaps, even her body didn’t want to see him again.

The knock at her door caused Claire to jump. The jolt intensified the nausea, propelling more beads of perspiration to adorn her skin. “Come in.” She managed as her face contorted in pain, and she concentrated once again on breathing.

Claire didn’t turn her head to see her roommate enter. Nevertheless, she heard the door open and Amber’s footsteps approaching the alarm.

“What the heck? It’s Saturday morning. Why do you have a damn alarm...?” As Amber turned from the now silenced clock, she beheld her roommate’s ashened, perspiration drenched complexion, and her tone mellowed, “Claire, what’s the matter?”

Claire didn’t speak, but gently shook her head from side to side. The movement was too much. Gathering strength Claire reached for her blankets, threw them back, jumped from the bed, and ran to her bathroom.

It had been a long time since Claire Nichols had been physically sick. The last time she remembered vomiting was when she learned of Simon’s death, which seemed ironic, now that she was living in Amber’s home. The heaves came in waves.

Amber stood supportingly holding Claire’s long auburn hair away from her face, as Claire rested her heavy head on trembling arms and waited for the next upsurge. When it came, Amber remained quiet while Claire’s body racked with convulsions. Even after the contents of Claire’s stomach were gone, the heaving continued.

In time, the lull between occurrences lengthened. Finally, her body stilled, leaving only a weakened and shivering Claire.

Amber helped her roommate sit on the closed lavatory lid, wetted a washcloth with cool water, handed it to Claire, and directed her to wipe her face. Next, Amber helped Claire to the sink where she repeatedly rinsed her mouth with water. After Amber helped Claire back to bed, Claire closed her eyes and prayed that whatever this was, it was over.

“It could be food poisoning.” Amber offered, after Claire’s color returned and her breathing normalized. “Maybe you ate something at the gala last night. I wonder if anyone else is having problems. ”

Claire nodded her head. Her strength was returning, little by little. “You’re probably right. With as bad as last night was, food poisoning would be a highlight.” She grasped the hand of the woman now sitting on the side of her bed. “Amber, we need to talk about last night.”

Amber visibly bristled and regrouped. “We do,” her tone was comforting not harsh, as it had been when she entered the room about the alarm, “but, not right now. Can I get you something? Maybe some toast? It could help settle your stomach.”

“What time is it?” Claire asked, panic threatening to disrupt her current non-vomiting state.

“It’s a quarter ’til eight. Why did you have that alarm set anyway?” Amber asked as she replaced the cloth on Claire’s forehead with a fresh cool compress.

“I have to meet someone at ten.”

“Well, I think you’re rescheduling.”

Closing her eyes she assessed her current state and said, “I can’t.” She was truly feeling better. Hopefully the offending food was gone. She wondered, could Tony possibly be sick too? A weak smile floated across her face. She responded, “I’ll take that toast, if you don’t mind.”

Amber stood, “Sure thing. Do you need anything else?”

“A glass of water?”

Amber squeezed Claire’s hand and replied, “Coming right up.”

Once she was gone, Claire reached for her phone. When she completed the task requiring movement successfully, Claire reassured herself she was definitely feeling better. If the toast stayed down, she was good to go.