Lola - On the afternoon of Thursday, the 29th
I feel so embarrassed retching in the toilet with the door open. But moments later, Justine and Damien join me in the bathroom. I don’t want them here, but I know they wish to help, and I let them.
Justine rubs my back as I spit up bile. After a minute of dry heaving—Damien is ready with water and a towel. I take the glass, gargling at the sink. Justine grabs the towel, wetting it, and wipes my face of sweat. It’s refreshing, but I feel dreadful.
Damien takes the liberty of preparing my toothbrush, and I gladly scrub my teeth too. I rinse my mouth thoroughly before adding more water to my face. Again Justine gently pats me dry.
“Can we do anything else for you?” she asks with a kiss on my forehead.
Her question burns my ears. I need to
