Mrs Goody Two Shoes XXXIV

Fever pitch

I fall sick. I need care. And he gets all the attention!

All the work that I was doing (or the very thought of them) in the maid’s absence got to me, and finally, the thermometer declared it was time I took some good rest. My temperature was quite in tune with the weather outside, but in a way, I was quite glad that the mercury had risen. Fever always translates into two things – holiday and pampering. At least, with my mum and dad around, that was the story of my life. One little sneeze and they ran to me with chicken soup and ginger tea, and tucked me in with new comics. This kind of royal treatment lasted even when I was in university.
So that Friday I happily jumped into bed, pulled a light blanket over me, made a puppy face and looked at the husband with sad eyes. “I don’t think I can manage to go to work today. I’ve got fever,” I said in a whisper. “What? You aren’t going? Wow! Lucky girl!” Naturally, I was shocked by this response. It took me a few seconds only to flare up. “You think I enjoy this?” I roared. Well, I did but what right had he to know that? He was tamed in an instant. “You must be feeling so bad. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”
With that, he was out. No asking me what I needed -- whether he should brew a cup of tea for me, or get me a glass of water even. So basically I had to fend for myself. I scraped a salad lunch for myself with leftover vegetables. When the husband returned, he came in with a huge box, and a huge smile. “I’ve got biryani. You don’t have to cook.” My face fell. Biryani in this condition? He saw my face, and promptly added, “I mean, for me and James. Did I not tell you he’s coming over? It’s Friday after all.”
I had no words left. I was missing mum. I stayed awake most of the night, with alternating cold and heat waves. My whining woke up the husband a number of times. Once, or maybe twice, he asked if I was all right. By the time I could tell him I would be grateful if he could fetch me an aspirin with lukewarm water, he was asleep.
Next morning, Bhasin auntie came for a visit. Hearing about my illness, she patted my husband on his head. As if he was a kindergarten kid. “Oh son, you must be feeling so sad. Have you had anything to eat? You must have stayed awake all night. How can a man manage if the woman of the house lies down? I will send you food beta.”
My husband caught my glare and quickly said bye to her. From then on, we had a stream of visitors during the whole day, asking how my husband was doing. They brought all kinds of food, absolutely unfit for a patient. I may have recovered faster, but my temper, and my temperature, hit the roof. I packed a suitcase, and went off to my parents’ house. The first question my mum posed to me was, “But with you here, how will he manage? I feel so sorry for poor boy.”
Aaaaaaaargh!!!