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When Mia prepares her husband's dinner, she does it with love. Each ingredient is hand-picked from the local grocer- turned over, examined for bruises and abrasions. She keeps in mind what he likes, what he doesn’t- bananas just a little under ripe, avocados just the slightest bit over. And when she ventures into the woodland thicket on her walk back to the house, to find the patch of gyromitra esculenta she’s seen growing there, she cuts only the ripest and the most full of the bunch- she cuts the stalks in one careful swipe, making sure not to bruise the mushroom cap, and then she lovingly wraps them in a handkerchief and tucks them into the inner pocket of her overcoat. She does it with love.
And when Ethan is doubled over the rim of their bathtub an hour after dinner, she’s right there beside him. She strokes his hair and rubs his back, and murmurs soft apologies into his ear as he shivers and spits into the tub. She tells him it’s her fault, that she must have given him food poisoning somehow, that she’s a terrible cook, that she feels awful. He shakes his head and denies it. He says dinner was wonderful as he throws it up. She beams.
When she coaxes him into bed he clings to her. Feverish, trembling hands grasp blindly for hers, pulling her close as she fluffs the pillows and gently tucks the covers over his chest. “I think you’ve got a temperature, honey,” she tells him and he just blinks at her, big pretty eyes glassy and unfocused. Doe-like. When she stands to leave, he clings to her, pleading.
“Don’t go.” He croaks it out. Her heart swells in her chest.
“I’m only getting a rag from the bathroom,” she says, “to put on your forehead.” Still, he grasps at her, a dull sort of panic painting his expression. He doesn’t want her to leave. Mia glows with love. “I’ll be right back, baby. I promise.”
He’s twisted onto his side when she re-enters the room, but that suits her just fine- it means she can slip onto the other side of the bed and pull Ethan’s head into her lap, then lay the cool cloth across his sweating forehead. She runs her fingers through his hair, trailing fingernails down the nape of his neck, and relishes in the soft sounds of happiness that leave his lips. She traces patterns down his shoulder blades, whispers that everything will be alright, that he’s going to be just fine, as the poison she’d put in his dinner thrums through him like the bass line of a love song. Ethan sighs softly, hands grabbing at the fabric of her loose pants.
“I sort of like you like this,” she tells him quietly. “You’re all pliant. You’re like a baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, because he thinks she’s joking and she will allow him to think so. “ Ethan. Ethan, you’re so pretty.”
“‘Mm pretty?” His voice is high and wavery- uncertain.
“Mm-hmm.” Mia kisses him just behind the ear and he curls deeper into her lap. He’s sweating buckets and shaking like a leaf, but she doesn’t mind, not at all. “You’re pretty and you’re sweet. My sweet baby.”
He makes a sound sort of like a mewl and she wraps an arm around his side, hugging him close to her chest. She can feel the raging heat of his fever against her breast, can feel the thump of his heart beat in sync with hers. God, she loves him so much. “ I love you so much ,” she whispers into his hair.
“‘Love you too,” he says back, and she knows he means it. His lips burn when she kisses them. “Mia?”
“Mm?”
“’Mm I sick?”
She nods slowly. “I think you’ve got food poisoning, baby. Remember?”
He rolls so that he’s on his back, eyes peering up at her. “What’s going to happen?” He asks. She cocks her head to the side. The rag’s fallen off his forehead- she replaces it with another, cold from soaking in the shallow basin of water on the nightstand. Ethan sighs softly at the feeling.
“What do you mean?”
“What’s …” he blinks, unsure of what to say next. "I'm sorry. I'm all confused." She understands then, for what does a child mean when it asks what’s going to happen? It’s a plea for reassurance. Mia cups her husband’s flushed face in her hands. His eyelids flutter as he struggles to focus on her. His pupils are blown wide, so wide that she can barely see the brown iris ringing them. There’s just the slightest crease between his brows, and she smooths it out with her thumb. His breath comes in shallow, fluttery gasps, delicate and precious as the wing beats of a small bird. For a short moment there's the sting of fear- what if she'd miscalculated? What if she'd given him too much, and it really wouldn't be okay? But Mia knows her shit. If she can be sure of anything, she can be sure of that. She smiles down at him, all reassurance and tranquility.
“You’re going to be just fine,” she tells him, looking into his eyes. “I’m going to take care of you for as long as you’re sick. And then even after that. You won’t have to worry about a thing. In the morning, you’ll feel better. Okay?” He nods slowly, and she kisses him again. “I love you,” she reminds him.
“I love you,” he repeats. His eyes are a little teary. "You're ... so nice to me."
"You deserve it," Mia practically coos.
"Mm." His eyelids droop slightly. His lips part just the slightest bit, and she lovingly wipes the bit of spit pooling at the corner of his mouth. Sweet baby. Sweet, sweet baby. Mia feels like her heart will burst with love as she looks down at him. “Thank you, Mia.”
“For what?”
“Taking care of me.”
“I love taking care of you.” She really does. Ethan’s hands are still clawed into her sweater, ineffectually tugging her closer.
“I'm not … annoying?”
“ No, baby.” She puts just a little too much emphasis on the word and he looks up again. “Not in a million years.” She means it. Ethan can tell she means it, because he smiles, and then yawns, shuddering against her as the motion leaves him.
“Sleepy?”
“Mm.” He curls into her, pressing his face to her stomach, and she holds him there, slowly combing his hair with her fingers. Mia is at peace, she is utterly tranquil. She will continue to stroke his hair, to hold him close, to tell him he’s doing good, that she’s there, that she’ll never leave him, until he falls asleep.
She’ll do it all with the utmost love.