Worry

Last week The Man was reading a very serious-looking book for a few days. When he read it he looked massively intelligent, occasionally looking up and staring into space thoughtfully. Sometimes his lips moved. More puzzlingly, sometimes his fingers moved.

Also, while sitting behind me, he occasionally became very quiet. Then I'd hear rustling, or other funny little noises, and when I turned around he would suddenly makes a coin appear. Or disappear. Or else he'd make a bit of string break in half and rejoin miraculously. It was disconcerting.

After a while I put two and two together. I checked out the book while he wasn't in the room. He'd taken the dust cover off, the tricky devil. I noticed the title in the front page.



Mentaru Majikku Jiten
(Mental Magic Encyclopedia)

But he is not performing any magic today, except in a little plastic thingummy he brought back from the doctor. It looks like a contact lens case, but instead of L and R for each of the little cups it says A and B. He left a note for me before crawling back into bed and disappearing into a moaning, snoring, and occasionally coughing cocoon of futon and hot water bottles. The note said,

I made a diamond in A.

He did, too.



There is a little pink diamond in the A (if you squint). He has Influenza Type A.

I've never seen one of those before. What did he do, spit in it? He hasn't woken up for long enough to me to ask.

I thought it had to be a bit more serious than just a cold. He hasn't been nearly grumpy enough for it to be something mild. Instead he has been worrying about me. He only wakes up for long enough to ask me how I am. Don't I have a cough? Shouldn't I go to the doctor, too? Didn't he hear me sneeze a bit earlier?

This is all very touching but it's making me anxious. When I bring him some more green tea he is supposed to shout "STOP FUSSING, YOU'RE WORSE THAN MY MOTHER!" Instead he looks at it, sits up, drinks it, coughs, looks miserable, and asks me how I am. Then he goes back to sleep.

(Later...)

I had to go into Osaka. When I came home I decided to make some Thai curry. I know it's not food for sick people, but it's the only thing I can cook that I know The Man can't resist, and he hasn't eaten for two days. He came downstairs just as it was ready, and said he wasn't hungry. Then while he was making some tea the smell got to him and he said maybe he'd eat something after all. He ate some curry. (HE ATE SOME CURRY!) He asked me if I was really all right, and shouldn't I go to the doctor, just in case? He had big bags under his eyes and looked worried and tired. He took his medicine, and when I said I'd do the dishes he thanked me.

But he does the dishes around here. He thinks I'm not capable. (This is an impression I have cultivated carefully over the years.) He never lets me touch the dishes if he's in the kitchen.

Things are not right.

He's asleep again now.

Sometimes he groans or coughs in his sleep. This is wrong, too. He's supposed to laugh and sing and argue. Or call out, suddenly, "TAKE IT OFF THE POST OFFICE! IT'S A RABBIT! HA HA HA!" so that I sit up straight and say, "Eh?"

And he still hasn't shouted at me. I don't like this at all. When is he going to shout at me?