Heart and Sunlight Ch. 07

"I woke up and felt a little off, like I normally do when it's too hot to sleep well," I tell Daza as I lie on the floor, my cheek to the cool tile. "It got worse while I was at work. Now I feel awful. I must have spent too much time in the sun." My head is spinning, and I feel sick to my stomach as I talk.

When I came home from work after my shift today, I already felt sick, but I thought it would go away after a little bit. It was a hard shift. The waves out at the turbine array were choppy. We avoided losing any turbines, but it was draining. I didn't feel sick because of work, though; I felt sick because of the heat wave. The weather is scorching today, and humid. I got scared when almost passed out as I struggled up the stairs to my apartment. I got to Daza's apartment, driven by images myself falling, cracking my head on a sharp corner in my apartment, and never being heard from again. I felt a rush of gratitude when they opened their door, relieved that at least I wouldn't perish alone.

"Daza, I need help," I said weakly. "I'm not feeling well."

"What's going on? Do you need a doctor?" They searched my face with concern.

"No, it's just heat exhaustion. But I'm afraid I might pass out."

They put their arm around me and I leaned against them, feeling barely able to stand as they helped me to my apartment, where I immediately sank to the floor, legs shaking.

Now Daza is sitting cross-legged next to me, their back against the wall. "I'm sorry," they say. "Let me get you some water. It might help to be hydrated." Their hair is pulled back, and they're wearing a sleeveless white top and shorts.

"Thank you," I say. I feel too tired to move a single muscle. Even breathing feels difficult. Daza brings me a mug, and I take a sip before letting my head droop back to the floor.

"How are you feeling?"

"Nauseous. My head hurts." I take a breath. "I'm used to heat exhaustion, but it feels worse today. Thank you for being here."

Daza puts a hand on my back and slowly rubs up and down my spine. Their hand feels hot against my skin, which is clammy and cold. "Of course. I wish I could help you feel better."

"I'm sure it'll go away after a while. I feel a lot better with you here. I was worried about being alone."

Their hand on my back is comforting. I take another small sip of water. I can concentrate on the pressure of their hand instead of the twisting in my stomach.

"I'm happy I can be here for you."

"You must be uncomfortable," I say. "You don't have to sit on the floor like that."

"I'm more worried about you," they reply lightly. "Can I help you up?"

I move one hand to their bare knee and caress it lightly. "I appreciate you. Let me try." I try to sit up, but end up falling heavily against Daza, dizzy. "Sorry," I mumble, eyes fluttering. I try again, and they help me up, supporting most of my body weight until I can collapse onto the couch. They bring me the mug of water and sit so I can lie back against their chest.

"Try to drink that. It will help. I mixed in some electrolytes," they say.

"Thanks." I take the mug, noticing the faint saltiness.

"Do you want a distraction?" they ask. "I can tell you a story."

"I would love that." Leaning against them, their deep voice vibrates from their chest into my back.

They stroke my hair with their fingers as they start to talk. I close my eyes against the daylight and listen. They tell me about their childhood growing up far outside the city, how they remember once seeing a leopard frog in a puddle near their home. Frogs were assumed to be nearly extinct then, and they certainly are now. "I still wonder sometimes if it was a dream," they say. "I can barely remember what frogs look like sometimes. They were such delicate creatures. They didn't stand a chance. I saw a firefly once, too. Just a single one, flashing green like a lighthouse on an island."

"I can't imagine what that was like," I say. "I've always lived in the city. I've never seen anything besides crows."

"Crows are beautiful in their own way," they say. "Resourceful and resilient."

"That's true, they are."

Daza continues and tells me about the farm they worked on before they moved to the city. The work was hard, but rewarding. "It didn't used to be that way, though. Did you know farm workers were only able to unionize fifty years ago? It's not that long ago that they had to work during heat waves until they got sick or died, and they had expose themselves to pesticides every day."

"I know, it's hard to believe," I say. "It's within our parents' lifetimes."

Daza keeps talking, until eventually I finish the mug of water.

"How are you feeling now?" they ask.

"A little better."

"Can I get you some food?"

My stomach turns at the thought. "I'm not hungry yet. I think I should just try to get some sleep."

"Alright. I'll stay with you to make sure you're okay."

"Are you sure? I think I'm going to be alright now. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"I'll stay." They give my arm a reassuring squeeze.

I reach for their hand and lace my fingers into theirs. "You're amazing." I can already feel myself drifting off, the exhaustion weighing heavy on my limbs. They wrap their arms lightly around my stomach like a blanket, our hands tangled together over my belly button. Just before I fall asleep, they whisper something in my ear, but I can't make out the words. Then I'm out, engulfed by a feverish dream. In the dream I'm running from something, terrified, gasping, out of breath, unable to escape. Later, though, I can't remember what it was.