Sick Day

“You okay?”

I looked up from my half-crouch, sitting on my bed, slumped against the wall. Adrian was standing in the doorway, looking down at me. His eyes met mine, and I felt the usual energy pass between us. There was no point in lying to him. “No,” I said.

He walked over and sat down on the bed, next to my feet. I sniffed. “In fact, I’m pretty miserable,” I added. He just stared at me, waiting, so I let the reins loose on my mouth. “I don’t know why – I don’t really have a good reason; but I’m miserable and I don’t care that there’s no reason. I’m just sad.”

He tilted his head, and something like a smile twitched at his lips. He put his hand on my ankle and rubbed my leg reassuringly. “I know.”

I felt disgusting. I hadn’t been out of bed for more than fifteen minutes today – not to shower, not even to throw away the trash from the food I’d mindlessly devoured. The carpet next to my bed was littered with wrappings and used tissues. My nose was still running sporadically. I sniffed again.

“You want anything?” Adrian asked.

I shook my head, the despair clogging my throat and making speech too much of an effort.

              

He nodded, not taking his hand from my calf. We sat there quietly for a while.

            

“This was such a wasted day.”

             

Adrian looked over at me, but I didn’t meet his gaze “What do you mean?”

            

 I grimaced. “I called in sick. I stayed home from work. And I didn’t do anything all day. I didn’t clean anything; I didn’t ride my new bike; I didn’t talk to anyone or look for a job.” I shook my head. “All I did was watch Netflix.”

             

“Sounds like a pretty good day to me,” Adrian joked.

             

“It wasn’t.”

             

The smile faded from his face. “I know,” he said again.

             

“It’s like this day might as well not have happened,” I lamented. It felt like such a tragedy, throwing away a day like that when life was so short anyway. The guilt was collapsing my chest from the inside. I felt like sobbing.

             

“But it did happen.” I scoffed, but Adrian continued, “no, listen to me! It did happen. You were alive today. You woke up; you walked around; you breathed the air. And you felt sorrow. That’s life.” He shrugged. “Not a very glamorous part of life, maybe, but life just the same.”

             

I didn’t say anything, just listened.

“And you know what?” he said. “Your life has a finite number of unhappy days. This was one of them, which means you have one less in the future. Because you were unhappy today, that means you don’t have to be unhappy tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued. “The rest of my days could be unhappy ones.”

             

He paused. “Yeah, maybe,” he admitted. “But I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I think your life is going to be a happy one, in the end. Not because of any statistics, or philosophy, or logic; just because of who you are." He shifted in his position on my bed. "You are the kind of person who tries to bring good things into the world, for yourself and for other people. You aren't perfect, but you try to be, and I think that sort of thing gets rewarded in the long run. You're the kind of person who makes sunshine. That's why I think there are better days ahead for you. There have to be. You'll make 'em that way.” He smiled. “I have a good feeling about it.”

I thought about that for a while. I turned and looked at him, watching me with those deep, dark eyes, and a bit of his faith touched my heart. My lips turned upward softly, of their own accord. “I have a good feeling about it, too,” I said.

             

He grinned. “Yeah.”

             

“Not today, though.”

“No,” he agreed.

“Today I’m miserable.”

             

“Right.”

"Today I don't even want to be happy."

"I understand."

             

We looked at each other, and it seemed almost unnecessary to speak.  “But maybe tomorrow,” I said.

He nodded. “Maybe tomorrow.”

And that, my friends, is hope.