Feverish Inspirations

Christen wakes to her bladder letting her know it needs to be emptied. The opens her eyes to a dimly lit room from the overcast sky and glances over to the clock next to her and sees it’s six thirty. She lazily stretches under the sheet before slowly rising from the bed. After using the toilet and washing her hands, she stands on the other side of the bed, looking down at Tobin. She’s sleeping now, her mouth slightly open with her head turned to the side facing her. She’s spread out, limbs pointing in all directions, flat on her back, breathing through her mouth. She decides to wake Tobin and make her drink something and give her some more Tylenol and get her to change her shirt at least.

Christen places her hand on Tobin’s forehead, grateful that she doesn’t feel as hot. “Babe,” she shakes Tobin’s arm gently, “honey, wake up,” she encourages, giving her arm another shake. She watches as Tobin’s eyes move under her eyelids, back and forth rapidly and then she’s blinking and looking at her with a dopey grin.

“You’re here,” she says dreamily, giving her a wide smile and looking up at with glassy eyes.

“I’m here,” Christen confirms with a smile, “how about we change your shirt and take some medicine?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” Tobin confesses with that goofy smile, her eyes still on her.

Christen chuckles, “That’s good to know, babe,”

Tobin’s mouth drops open, “You called me babe,” she says with wonder. She’s clearly not completely awake yet. Christen is used to it, Tobin is the epitome of being a slow riser in the morning.

Christen reaches for the hem of Tobin’s shirt, pulling it up, “Let’s put a new shirt on,”

Tobin begins to gather her senses as she sits up and Christen is wiping down her back with a wet washcloth. “I was dreaming,” she says slowly as she looks around their bedroom,
“it was all a dream,” she whispers with sigh.

“I knew you were,” she remarks, using a towel to dry Tobin’s skin.

“You were there,” Tobin yawns, lifting her arm to get her shirt on, “we weren’t together yet,”

“Were you playing footy with Mia Hamm?” Christen questions as she walks over to the hallway and tosses the towel and shirt in the laundry basket.

“I was,” Tobin nods, yawning again.

“I’ll be right back,” Christen states, “don’t fall asleep, you need to take some medicine.”

“Okay,” Tobin nods at her, “I won’t.”

From the kitchen, Christen can hear the toilet flush and when she returns with the bottle of Tylenol and Gatorades for both of them, she finds Tobin is sitting up in bed with her back against the headboard. She’s holding the digital thermometer to her forehead.

“Thanks,” she says when Christen hands her the bottle.

“What is it?” Christen inquires as she slides onto the bed.

“It’s 99.1,” Tobin replies as she opens her drink. She takes the pills, swallowing them down with ease.

“You feeling better?” Christen asks, sipping on her drink.

“Yeah,” she replies, taking another drink, “I don’t feel as hot,” she continues, “and my head isn’t pounding.”

“Your temperature went up over a hundred and two,” Christen informs her.

“Wow,” Tobin’s eyes widen, then she blinks and squints, turning to find her glasses and puts them on. “You look really tired,” she observes, “have you been up the whole time?”

Christen nods, “You scared me,” she confesses, “you were really out of it and mumbling and moving all over, and you looked really awful.”

Tobin grimaces, “I’m sorry, babe,” she says genuinely.

Christen reaches across the bed to take her hand and giving it a squeeze, “Hey,” she says, giving her a soft smile, “we said in sickness and in health, right?”

Tobin smiles widely, “We did,” she says, giving Christen’s hand a return squeeze.

Legally, they are not married. They exchange vows to each other last fall while camping together, just the two of them surrounded by nature’s beauty on a perfect autumn day. The ring Tobin choose for Christen looked more like an engagement ring, nothing incredibly flashy but perfectly suited to Christen’s style. Christen had given Tobin a new Tiffany ring, very similar to the one she already owned, yet personalized with a few details just for her. They had their lawyers prepare powers of attorney for finances and health naming another as their representative. They have separate and joint bank accounts, investments and work together with Re-Inc. outside of soccer.

Both felt that someday after their playing days they would have a ceremony with family and friends but were content knowing they it for each other. Over the years, the two worked hard to gather both families for events so they can spend time together outside of cheering them on in stadiums around the world. Both families are close and comfortable spending time together. They also think both of their immediate families believe they did get married in secret, but nobody has brought it up, so they don’t talk about it. They feel married, even if they don’t have an official certificate and they aren’t in any type of rush to make it public knowledge.

“Do you think you can sleep?” Christen asks as she studies Tobin’s features. Her partner is developing some darkness around her eyes from a lack of restful sleep and she looks absolutely wiped out with exhaustion.

Tobin nods, “Yeah,” she says, taking another slow sip of her Gatorade, “that was some dream,” she says distractedly, capping her drink and turning to place it on the nightstand next to the bed. Christen would normally ask her about her dream, but she shuts the light off that rests on her bedside nightstand and scoots down in unison with Tobin. Christen is just as exhausted as Tobin and wants to sleep.

They both sigh as they get comfortable, lying side by side. “Can we sleep in?” Tobin tiredly asks with her scratchy voice. They’d been trying to maintain some sort of schedule of breakfast, lunch and dinner so as not to get completely out of whack.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Christen says with relief, “and if we’re hungry, let’s order in brunch food,”

Tobin hums in agreement, “Love you, babe,” she mumbles quietly.

“Sleep fast, my love,” Christen replies just as softly. Reassured that Tobin is feeling better and the crisis is over, she easily falls to sleep.

XXXX

“It might make you drowsy, but you won’t feel nauseous anymore,” Dr. Brown states over the phone. Her and Tobin are doing a video chat to talk about her headaches and fever and how she’s feeling. She’s prescribed Reglan, an anti-nausea medication.

“Any other side effects we should be aware of?” Christen asks from beside Tobin on the couch. She’s had her check in with Dr. Brown already. It’s been two days since Tobin had her scary spike in her temperature and it’s continued at least once each day since. The headaches she’s getting is making her feel sick to her stomach and sensitive to light as well.

“Drowsiness is the most common, although there’s always a chance for diarrhea, restlessness, an increase in urination. When it gets delivered, there will be an information sheet with it. Just call me if anything on the list happens and we’ll go from there. It’s very rare, but they have to list everything.” The doctor assures them.

“Okay, sounds good,” Tobin nods to her on the screen, “thanks, Doc,”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles at them, “you both take care and check in with me in a couple of days, alright? Call sooner if you need to.”

“Will do,” Tobin nods and they end the call. She yawns as she sets her phone on the arm of the couch and looks at Christen tiredly. “How’s your headache?” she asks her.

Christen shrugs, “Not too bad, just like, nagging,”

Tobin frowns, “Can I do anything to help?” she offers, “Massage?”

“That would be nice,” Christen agrees, feeling it might help and knowing Tobin needs to feel useful. Christen slides to the floor and in between Tobin’s legs, humming when she feels her hands gently massaging her shoulders. Christen uses her phone to play some music, choosing some quiet light jazz that her and Tobin enjoy. The calming beat soon fills the room.

She closes her eyes as Tobin’s fingers slowly leave her shoulders and make their way to her neck, then the base of her skull, then her temples. It’s soothing and the tension dissipates and she does feel better. Usually by the time Tobin’s fingers are working her temples, Christen is wet and wanting her, Tobin’s touch typically turning her on so much. This time, she’s bobbing her head nearly asleep and there’s no sexual energy between them with the two being so tired and not feeling well. They haven’t had sex since they both began feeling sick weeks ago.

After thirty minutes, Christen places her hand on top of Tobin’s, “Thanks, babe,” turning her head to smile at her, “that felt wonderful,” she puckers her lips and Tobin leans down and kisses her softly.

“You’re welcome,” Tobin smiles, “I hope you weren’t thinking about getting lucky,”

Christen chuckles as she rises from the floor and sits down next to her, laying a hand on Tobin’s thigh. “Am I not attractive to you right now?” she asks coyly as she bats her eyelashes at her. Neither one of them is looking at their best right now. Both have their hair up in messy buns, glasses on their faces and unshaven legs.

Tobin laughs, “You’re always attractive to me,” she shakes her head, “but you were falling asleep during foreplay,” she informs her.

Christen slides back into the cushions of the couch, “What can I say?” she shrugs, “Your hands were mesmerizing,”

Tobin falls back into the cushions as well with a sigh, “This sucks,” she declares.

“What can we do to make it better?” Christen questions, considering ideas in her mind.

Tobin yawns, “I don’t know right now,” she confesses, “but let’s think about it later.”

“Okay,” Christen agrees, yawning as well, “if you feel like your fever is coming back,” she cautions.

“I’ll jump in the shower,” Tobin finishes, “I promise,” she gives her a tired smile, “it seems to help,”

“Oh,” Tobin says after a moment, “I know one thing we can do to limit our misery,” she states.

“What’s that babe?” Christen asks with curiosity.

“Stop watching the news,” Tobin declares, “I swear, the newscasters seem like they just live to instill fear,”

“And our government is so behind in handling this properly,” Christen adds, “I swear, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“I wonder if we’ll even have a season,” Tobin muses, “this could go on for a long time,”

“I think it might get pushed back a month or two but we’ll play,”

“Maybe,” Tobin considers, “good nap, sweetheart,”

“Good nap babe,”

XXXX

The two days later when Christen exits the bedroom after showering she stands in the living room and the thought crosses her mind that Tobin truly may have lost her mind. Quarantine and being sick has put her over the edge.

“What is…this?” Christen questions, her hands raised with confusion. The couch has been pushed back, the cushions are off it and on the floor in front of it along with possibly every pillow they own. The door to the balcony is open, a chair from the kitchen holding it open. There is actually a nice spring breeze coming through the room, Christen thinks.

“What babe?” Tobin questions from behind her, holding a couple of blankets and what looks to Christen as photo albums.

“I was wondering what this all is,” Christen repeats, arching an eyebrow at her, her curiosity peaked.

Tobin smiles, “Come on and I’ll explain,” she invites, spreading a blanket over the pile of pillows and sitting down, getting comfortable. Christen joins her and shoves a pillow behind her back and waits. Tobin hands her one of the photo albums and nods at her to open it.

She does and smiles instantly. It’s Tobin as a baby. Cindy had put together an album of Tobin’s childhood and so did her own Mom and Tobin is currently holding that one in her hands. Tobin flips open the book she’s holding and looks at her expectantly.

“What are we doing?” Christen questions, glancing down at a Halloween photo of Tobin dressed as Batman. The cute little mustache kills her every time she sees it.

“I thought we’d talk about our childhoods,” Tobin suggests excitedly, “like, what is something that was awesome back then and it would be awesome if you could still do it now?”

She pushes her glasses up on her nose, then flips a couple of pages and pushes the book at her. “Like, this one,” she points, “what was happening her?”

Christen leans over and smiles when she recognizes the photo. It’s of her and her sisters, she must be around eight and the three of them are dressed in matching Minnie Mouse dresses complete with the ears. “We were going to Disney,” she explains, “we did every year,” she smiles at the memory, “Mom and Dad would surprise us with new outfits and we’d leave the next day.”

“That’s so cool,” Tobin grins and Christen almost tears up at her, seeing Tobin genuinely happy right now. This past ten days have been horrible and she’s so grateful to see Tobin smile like that. “You told me you guys went to Disney a lot,” Tobin is still talking, “but I didn’t know they surprised you like that,”

Christen hums and nods and then points to a photo of Tobin on a boat, “Where was this?”

Tobin leans closer to look and smiles, “My grandparents in Rhode Island,” she says fondly, “we’d go there for a couple of weeks in the summer,” she explains, “it was like,” her shoulders raise as she inhales, dropping them as she speaks, “like, magical.”

Christen tilts her head, “What made it so magical?”

Tobin considers for a moment, “I think it was just so different there than at our house,” she says thoughtfully, “like, even breakfast was different. We’d eat out on the patio and the ocean was right there. We’d go sailing almost every day,” Tobin sighs at the memory, “it was like every day was an adventure and everyone was relaxed and didn’t have to be anywhere but just there.”

Christen hums, “Sounds nice,” she comments, “I remember our Disney trips being like that,”

Tobin nods, “Right?” she shakes her head, “When did we lose that feeling?” she asks her, surprisingly serious.

Christen blinks, “I don’t know,” she answers, “I haven’t really thought about it,”

Tobin quirks her mouth, “Neither have I,” she admits.

“Here,” Christen says, not liking how Tobin is frowning, “let’s switch books. Then we show each other the coolest ones,”

They switch books and silently look through the pages. Christen lets her finger run over a photo of her with her Mom.

“I’m sorry,” Tobin’s tone is apologetic and when Christen looks up at her she sees how Tobin looks stricken.

“It’s okay, babe,” she reassures her, “I just miss her,”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Tobin chastises herself, “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s alright, honey,” Christen gives her a gentle smile, “I know she’s here with us, I just wish I could talk to her again,”

Tobin reaches out to hold her hand and gives it squeeze, “I know,”

Christen nods, “She’d be even more of a clean freak than I am right now,” she chuckles.

“She’d probably be making us cool masks,” Tobin adds with a fond smile.

“Yes,” Christen laughs, “she’d bling them out too,” her laughter dies and smiles at Tobin, “Show me a good picture,” she suggests.

“This one,” Tobin grins, showing the photo to Christen, “I was around five,” she explains, showing her a photo of a blanket fort with a very young Tobin and her sisters peeking out from the opening, “and I had chicken pox and couldn’t have a birthday party.”

“Aw,” Christen melts a little seeing young Tobin with spots on her face and arms, “that’s so sad,”

Tobin puts a finger on her temple, “This is one of the scars,” she says.

Christen pulls back the hair near her right ear, “I’ve got one too,”

Tobin smiles at her, “My sisters had it too,” she explains, “and they made this cool fort and my Mom let us have pizza and watch movies all night long.”

“I loved when we got to stay up late,” Christen smiles at her, “it was like, so against the rules, you know?”

Tobin nods, then points to another photo. She’s sitting on her Mom’s lap holding a melting ice cream cone and smiling widely at the camera, missing teeth on full display. “Fourth of July,” she states.

Christen shows her a similar one of herself, dressed in red, white and blue and holding a half-eaten chicken leg in her chubby hand. She’s probably around three or four years old. “I know I was super little in this one,” she says, “but there is something about the Fourth,” she shakes her head, “like anything can happen,”

Tobin nods, “Yeah,” she sighs, then she gives her a sly grin, “I had my first kiss on the Fourth,” she shares.

Christen arches an eyebrow at her, “I thought your first kiss was that Bobby boy,”

Tobin nods, “It was,” she confirms, “but it was on the Fourth, we hid behind some bushes.”

“Ah,” Christen nods, “didn’t the day seem endless?”

“It so did,” Tobin agrees, looking back down at the photo, her fingers tracing over it, “where did we lose that feeling?”

Christen looks at her closely, seeing how serious she is. “I think we get a taste of it,” she offers, “playing soccer,” she explains, “at least, for me.”

Tobin nods, “Yeah, but I’m talking about that feeling of being little, maybe…” she trails off, frowning, “maybe it’s innocence.”

Christen nods, now understanding what she’s getting at.

“Maybe it’s being so busy and not taking the time to revel in doing nothing or being in the moment,” Christen suggests.

“Well,” Tobin arranges herself on the cushions and lies down, “there’s that,” she admits, “but I think it happens younger,”

Christen lies down as well, pulling the blanket over herself and offering it to Tobin. She shakes her head and Christen snuggles into the surprisingly comfortable area. “Younger, huh,” she considers, “like when we start caring about what other people think of us?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tobin considers, her hands moving to her temples as she winces, “maybe this was too much thinking,” she says defeatedly, moving the photo album she’s holding to the couch.

“Headache again?” Christen inquires with concern, setting her album aside as well and scooting closer to Tobin.

“Yeah,” Tobin confirms, “it’s been gnawing at me for a while,” she says and looks at her, “I took some medicine when you were in the shower,”

Christen nods, knowing Tobin wants her to know she is taking this seriously and responsibly. Tobin has been taking cool showers when she feels her fever growing high instead of just letting it run its course. If she wakes from a nap with a fever, she draws a tepid bath and soaks for a while and that helps as well. She has been actively journaling how she feels, what her symptoms are, when they occur and what she was doing when they started.

“Why don’t we just relax here,” Christen offers, “this breeze is nice and it almost feels like we’re outside,”

Tobin smiles, “That’s what I was going for,” she says, “just missing the sun,” she hums tiredly as she lies down.

“This is wonderful, babe,” Christen says as she nestles in next to her, “just perfect.”

“This reminds me of being a kid again,” Tobin sighs as she shifts to get comfortable.

Christen hums in agreement and is curious about what is going through Tobin’s head. First the fort, then the photos, then talking about childhood. She wonders what is troubling her and shifts on her side to look at her. Maybe it’s the comfort of being a child, having no responsibilities. Maybe this is all tied into her being sick. She smiles when she sees Tobin is already sleeping, slightly jealous that she can just conk out so quickly. Christen knows Tobin well enough to know they’ll circle back to this, the meaning of whatever it is Tobin is searching for.

XXXX

Christen scans Tobin’s sweat beaded forehead again, biting her lower lip nervously as the thermometer calculates her temperature. When it beeps, Tobin frowns just seeing her expression.

“What’s the damage?” she asks with frustration.

“It’s a hundred and two point two,” Christen informs with a sigh.

Tobin lets out a deep sigh from her spot in the bathtub, clad in a sports bra and compression shorts. “Fuck,” she mutters through clenched teeth, her hands balled into fists, the muscles on her forearms and biceps flexing.

“I know you’re scared,” Christen says quietly, “I am too,” she kneels next to the tub and lightly runs her fingers along Tobin’s upper arm, “but I’m reassured that we’re only having these headaches and fevers. I know it sucks for you but we’re lucky, even if you feel terrible right now. If we were going to have other symptoms, worse ones, we would have by now. It’s been just over two weeks since we’ve been diagnosed. Dr. Brown said we’re past that point. So, now we have to tough it out.”

“You’re right,” Tobin agrees, sighing deeply and leaning back against the towel on the edge of the tub, “I would have ankle surgery again instead of this,” she says, “this just really sucks.”

“I know you feel awful,” Christen continues, “I wish there was something I could do to take this from you, babe,”

Tobin gives her a sickly smile, “I know you do,” she says, joining their hands, “the baths seem to help a little,” she says, swishing the water around a little with her hand, “I’m struggling to find the positive in this,” she states with a frown.

“Me too,” Christen admits with a nod, “I think a lot of people are right now,”

“I,” Tobin starts and then bites her lip, quirking her mouth, “I think we need the July drop to be something super positive,” she says, looking up at Christen. That line from Julie Foudy from her first fever dream has been weighing heavily in her mind lately. To be sure of the message you want the world to see.

Christen nods, “I was thinking that as well,” she agrees, “do you have any ideas on it?”

“I feel like I’m close, but I just can’t put my finger on it yet,” Tobin replies, then she winces slightly and rubs at her temple with one hand.

“Does your head hurt?” Christen asks her tenderly, her fingers cupping Tobin’s jaw.

Tobin leans in to her touch, “Just kind of a dull ache, like pressure,” She yawns, “I think I could sleep,”

“Well, not here you aren’t,” Christen snorts, “come on, I’ll help you up,” Christen stands up and offers her hand. Tobin takes it and rises from the water. She towels off her hair and upper body and then lifts a leg up to dry it before stepping out. She dries her other leg and then strips off her clothes.

“Why didn’t you just…” Christen starts and then shakes her head, bending to pick up the clothes, she will never understand Tobin and her methods, “there’s a shirt and shorts on the bed,” she says as she walks out of the bathroom, “I left a Pedialyte on your nightstand.”

“Thanks, babe,” Tobin calls out from the bathroom where she is preparing her toothbrush.

Tobin dreams that night.

They come in flashes, like turning the pages of her photo album, her as a little girl out at her grandparent’s house, on their boat in the sun and on the water. Hot summer days, fishing with her brother, playing soccer, playing tennis with her siblings. Running around all day with her friends and scrounging for change around the house to get a popsicle from the ice cream truck after dinner. Lying on her back in the grass, eyes closed and feeling the sun. Hot summer nights getting ice cream with her Mom and Dad after a game, feeling happy and surrounded with love.

Then there’s the ones when she’s a little older. Hanging out with her teammates from her high school team. Sleepovers, bon fires, sitting out under the stars. Skateboarding, youth group at church, learning to drive. Traveling for soccer all over the world. Wanting to learn about different cultures and being amazed how soccer is the universal so often. The pure joy of playing the game that speaks to everyone.

When she wakes the next morning thinking about happiness and carefree joy and how wondering when was the last time she’s felt it so purely.

XXXX