Sarah wakes up just after lunchtime, still drowsy but feeling hungry. She sends a quick text to her boss at the bar to let him know she’s not going to make it in tonight and that she’d re-evaluate tomorrow but for him not to hold his breath, then flips through her messages while still burrowed under the covers. There’s one from her mother and one from her friend Marcia, but it’s one from Lucas that she opens first.

It’s from around 10:00 am. Spicy Thai takeout for supper? ‘Always makes me feel good when I’m all stuffed up,’ he’s sent, ‘and then, don’t forget to eat garlic.’

Sarah eyes the garlic on her bedside table suspiciously. She’s not just going to eat a clove of garlic. That’s disgusting. She could crush it up and use it in an omelet or something, though - significantly less disgusting.

‘Thai sounds delicious. We can order when you get home. My treat,’ she replies.

Sarah responds to her other messages before pulling herself out of bed and shuffling to the bathroom. A hot shower will also help, she thinks. A hot shower, some food, and some more medication, and she’ll be good as new.

It does help, but not as much as she’d hoped. Sarah uses that small burst of energy to make herself an egg white omelet with garlic and cilantro, brews coffee, then settles on the couch in her favourite red sweatpants and a white t-shirt that she usually reserves for baking days. It’s comfortable and actually fits pretty nicely, with short sleeves and the words but first, coffee on the front. It got stained irreparably with olive oil last year so it’s been banished from public view.

Sarah’s halfway through an episode of Tiger King when her phone buzzes. It’s Lucas, replying to the proof-of-life picture she’d sent him of crushed garlic.

‘That’s the stuff,’ it reads, followed immediately by, ’you feeling any better?’

‘A bit better after sleep and food, thanks to you!’ Sarah taps out. She moves to set her phone aside, but on a whim, she snatches it back and adds, ’How’s work today? Did you get in trouble for being late?’

‘No. Who could get mad at this face?’

There’s probably some truth to that, Sarah thinks. She’s not sure what to respond so she chooses not to, just slides her phone onto the coffee table and drops her head to the arm of the couch. She may have slept all morning, but her eyelids still feel a little heavy, so Sarah decides to let herself surrender to an afternoon nap.

When her eyes open next, it’s after four. Sarah can’t see Lucas, but she can hear the shower running in the bathroom, so he must be home. She sits up on her elbow and grabs her phone off the table. Her mother has texted again, asking how she’s feeling. As Sarah taps out a reply, she hears the water turn off, then a few minutes later, the door to the bathroom creaks open.

Sarah hears Lucas humming to himself down the hallway. She should really get up and do something productive; he’s had a full day of work and she’s been just laying here like a sloth. Sickness or not, that’s not like her. She didn’t even wash the plate she’d eaten the omelet on.

That realization is enough to get her feet on the floor. She makes her way to the kitchen and reaches into the sink for her plate, but it’s empty.

“Lucas,” she mutters.

“Yes?” Lucas appears at her side suddenly, sliding in like Cosmo Jones.

“You rang?”

Sarah turns toward him, one hand on her hip. “You washed my plate!”

He tilts his head curiously. “Was I not supposed to?”

“I was going to do it. You didn’t have to.”

Lucas shrugs. “No big deal, Sarah. You’re sick!” He reaches out and places a large palm on her forehead. “How you feeling, anyways? Your head don’t feel too hot.”

“I think I feel okay.” Sarah takes a brief self assessment; her headache has subsided and her body isn’t as tired as it had been earlier, but her throat still feels pretty scratchy. “Definitely can’t go to work tonight, though. It’s a pity.”

“Think of it as a free Friday off!” Lucas exclaims, clapping his hands together. He strides out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he plops down somewhat unceremoniously on one end of the sofa. “Nothing wrong with taking it easy, Sarah.”

Sarah gets herself a glass of water and then follows, sitting gently down on the other end where she’d left her pile of blankets. “Normally I’d agree,” she replies, which is kind of a lie. She’s always been bad at relaxation. “But Friday and Saturday are my good tip nights. Maybe I can pick up a shift next Wednesday for wing night to try and make up for it.”

“That’s the spirit!” He claps his hand on his knee. “You get in there and bat them eyelashes of yours and sell those wings!”

She chuckles. “Fifty cent wings sell themselves, Lucas.”

Lucas’s eyes widen. “Sounds like a great deal. Where’s this place again?”

“Logan’s, it’s in the Financial District not far from the Trade Centre. Little dive sort of place but it gets a decent crowd on weekends. Post-work drinks are pretty popular too but I usually don’t work too much of that.”

“You don’t want them greasy stock trader types all over you anyway.” Lucas waves his hand. “I bet they tip good, though.”

Sarah smiles at him and reaches for the remote; Tiger King has been stalled at “next episode?” on the TV for god knows how long now. “Not all of them. Depends if there are girls around that they want to impress with their hundred dollar bills.”

“Wrong kind of guy.”

“Wrong kind of girl, too. But it’s not all that type - Logan’s is pretty casual for them.” Sarah hands Lucas the remote. “I’ve been laying here all day, it’s yours if you want it.” She assumes he’ll be heading out later; he’s usually got some kind of social engagement going on, and seems to be a popular guy, which Sarah understands now. Lucas is fun to be around and he’s not a total asshole.

He refuses her offer of the remote. “No, no. You’re sick, you get to pick. Those are the rules, Sarah.”

She giggles. “According to whom?”

“Everyone! It's a universal law!”

“Lucas, I can watch more embarrassing reality TV when you’re out later.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Who says I’m going out later?”

“Erm.” She feels her cheeks flush inexplicably. “I kind of just assumed. You’re usually out on weekends, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but you’re sick, Sarah!” Lucas reaches out and taps the top of one of her feet, which has edged its way out from beneath her blanket. “I’ve got to keep you company.”

“Oh, Lucas.” Sarah gives him a little smile. “You don’t have to take pity on me, it’s okay. Joe and Carole will keep me company.” At his blank look, she points toward the TV. “Reality TV.”

“Oh.” Lucas rolls his eyes. “Fine, let me rephrase - I want to keep you company. If that’s alright.”

“Of course it is, you live here too.” She nibbles on her lower lip, secretly glad he’s not leaving. It’s sort of nice, just hanging out. Maybe she’s been lonelier than she’d thought since Jack left. She decides to make more of an effort to see Marcia and her other friends. “If you’re sticking around, do you want to watch a movie tonight, maybe?”

“That sounds great,” Lucas says enthusiastically. “What are you in the - oh, Sarah, I know. Let’s watch Mission Impossible! Actually, let’s watch the second one, that’s the best one.”

His suggestion actually sounds pretty good to her; she’s already seen all of the movies, so if she falls asleep she won’t be missing anything, but they’re also entertaining enough that she might stay awake.

“Good idea,” Sarah replies. “But first let’s order food.”