You’re Not Sick

“Achoooo! Well, it looks like you need to say home and take care of me!”

Samantha lays in bed, buried deep underneath the blanket. She has the blanket pulled all the way up to her face, showing only half of her face. Strangely enough, seeing her like this makes me realize how big her forehead is; I could probably use it as a mirror if it was able to be waxed and shined.

I just told her about how I have a big meeting late in the afternoon tomorrow, which means I’ll most likely have to spend some extra time at the office. Every once in a while, my superiors like to invite me to their monthly briefings as an outside opinion on certain topics, so honestly, I can’t exactly say no since it’s my bosses. But it does make the paycheck look nice when it comes around to the pay period ending.

And every time I tell Sam that I need to say a bit later than normal, she always puts up a fuss. Last time, she said I was abandoning her like a mother bird pushing their young out the nest to make them fly. I swear, she’s so dramatic on purpose just to get her way. But it’s cute when she gets all childish, so I deal with it.

Looking at her hiding in the bed, I cross my arms and instinctively begin tapping my foot on the floor, giving her a stern look, “So, you’d rather have me miss an entire day of work just so you don’t have to spend an extra hour by yourself?”

Sam quickly nods her head and get more comfortable under the blanket, “Yup– Wait! I mean, n-no!” Quickly pulling back her statement, she lets out an obvious fake sneeze and rubs her nose, “I’m sick!”

She’s playing that card, huh?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, getting ready for the onslaught of stupid acting that’s about to happen. She’s going for the “I’m sick” facade. This never ends on a good note.

Confused by what I’m doing, Samantha asks me, “What are you doing?”

I simply shake my head and open my eyes, “Nothing. Just taking a breather. Okay, so why are you sick? Feeling warm or somethin’?”

Without a moment to waste, Samantha shakes her head and pats her forehead, “I think I have a fever.”

I decide to play along, “Well, thinking isn’t a definite answer. Let me come check.”

I get on the bed and crawl from the foot of it all the way to where Samantha’s resting her head. I lean in a bit and press my forehead on hers, making it easy for me to tell whether or not she really has one or not.

She rolls her eyes up at me and blurts out, “If you’re trying to kiss me, my mouth isn’t on my forehead.”

I playfully pluck her on the nose as I back away from checking her forehead, “I don’t kiss a sick person. And you don’t feel hot, so you must not have a fever.”

Samantha rubs the tip of her nose, where I plucked, and tries to give another excuse, “I-It’s my stomach. I think I ate something bad.”

“Well, the last few things we ate were made by you and I’m feeling fine. Are you saying your cooking is bad?”

After that remark, Samantha quickly shoots up from laying down to defend her skills as a home chef and yells, “Hell no! My food is top tier; even master chefs would beg for my cooking recipes!”

Well, if she reacted like that, then she’s obviously fine. I’ll give her one last chance to see if she’ll come clean.

I’m assuming she remembered that she’s suppose to be sick, so Samantha quickly lays back down and hides herself under the blanket, giving an attempted at a fake cough, “I have a sore throat.”

I push off of the bed back onto my feet and just stand at her bedside looking at her, “Then make some hot tea with lemon and honey.”

Whimpering and kicking her feet, Samantha tries to plea for an alternative, “But I want you to make it! Your tea is better than mine!”

“It’s just dropping a tea packet in a cup of hot water!”

“But I know that when you make it, it’s made with love and honey…”

Somehow, I can feel my face just swell red with a blush of embarrassment from her sappy lines. I cross my arms and look away, trying to avoid making eye contact, “S-Shut up!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Samantha giggling and sticking her tongue out a bit with a simple wink. I finally push forward and decide this needs to end, “You’re not sick, so just drop it.”

Samantha quick gets on her knees and wraps herself in the blanket like a cloak, biting on it a bit to show her frustration, “But I’m lovesick!”

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head, “You’re acting like I’m not coming back. You’re not sick, I’m going to that meeting, and you’ll be fine. Okay?”

Samantha crosses her arms and lets out a huff, puffing up her cheeks afterward, “Fine. But can I ask something?”

“What?”

“Since I’m not sick, can you give me a kiss?”

“No.”

Ending it on that note, I slowly turn around and head out of our bedroom. As I’m leaving, I can hear Samantha whimpering and whining about not getting a kiss. I shake my head and a small smile comes on my face, “Such a spoiled brat.”

via Daily Prompt: Facade Facade

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