seemed to be over.
She called Gilles and asked him to meet her outside at one. She ordered tea and toast from room service, thought about calling Zack again, but by then it was three in the morning for him. It was odd how the familiarity of him called to her at times. Good or bad, he was after all the current man in her life, even if part-time. By sheer reflex, she had almost called him the night before, when she was sick. But theirs was not the kind of relationship in which she would have felt comfortable whining to him. She had a strong suspicion he would have laughed at her, or made light of it. Sympathy hadn’t appeared to be his strong suit so far, in the four months they’d been together. Whenever she said that she was exhausted from a hard week, he had ignored the comment and suggested they go out, and several times she had, to indulge him, oblivious to her own needs, meeting only his. She took a shower, dressed in a sweater and jeans, comfortable shoes, and left the hotel. As promised, her driver Gilles was waiting outside, and smiled the minute he saw her.
He took her to all the places she loved to go to, but by four o’clock she was feeling sick again. She hated to waste a minute in Paris, and had wanted to go to Didier Ludot at the Palais Royal, to dig through their vintage couture, but in the end, she decided to skip it and go back to the hotel. She didn’t feel up to shopping anymore. And as soon as she got to the Plaza Athénée, she went straight back to bed. By seven o’clock that night, she was throwing up again, even more violently than she had the previous night. Whatever bug she had picked up, it was a nasty one, and by nine o’clock she felt like she was going to die. She made one last trip to the bathroom, and this time nearly fainted on her way back to bed. She hated to admit it, but she was starting to panic. And after lying in bed crying for another half-hour, she began to think about finding a doctor. She was sure that all she had was stomach flu, but she was feeling extremely ill. And then she remembered the name of a doctor a friend in New York had given her, in case she ever needed a physician in Paris. She had saved his office and cell phone numbers on a piece of paper in her address book. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she called and left a message on his cell phone, and lay on her bed afterward with her eyes closed, feeling frightened to be so ill. She hated getting sick when she was on trips and far from home. She thought about calling Zack again, and felt stupid even thinking about it. What was there to say, except that she was feeling awful and had the flu? She didn’t want to call Jade and David and upset them, either, so she lay on her bed, waiting for the doctor to call her back, which he did promptly. She was impressed when he returned her call within minutes and promised to come to the hotel at eleven.
The concierge called as soon as he entered the hotel, and told her that the doctor was on his way upstairs. At least by then she hadn’t thrown up in nearly two hours, and she hoped it meant she was on the mend. She felt silly to have bothered a doctor for something that was surely minor, even if disagreeable, and he probably couldn’t do anything about it anyway. She was feeling sheepish as she opened the door to him when he knocked, and even more so when she saw a tall, good-looking man with sandy blond hair in his mid-fifties standing there in an impeccably elegant dark blue suit and white shirt. He looked more like a businessman than a doctor, as he introduced himself as Docteur Jean-Charles Vernier. And when she apologized for disturbing him on a Saturday night, he insisted that he had been at a dinner party nearby anyway and didn’t mind at all. He said he was delighted to help her, although visiting patients in hotels was not usual for him. Timmie knew he was an internist and a reputed professsor at the Faculté de Médicine. He had left the dinner party promptly after
She called Gilles and asked him to meet her outside at one. She ordered tea and toast from room service, thought about calling Zack again, but by then it was three in the morning for him. It was odd how the familiarity of him called to her at times. Good or bad, he was after all the current man in her life, even if part-time. By sheer reflex, she had almost called him the night before, when she was sick. But theirs was not the kind of relationship in which she would have felt comfortable whining to him. She had a strong suspicion he would have laughed at her, or made light of it. Sympathy hadn’t appeared to be his strong suit so far, in the four months they’d been together. Whenever she said that she was exhausted from a hard week, he had ignored the comment and suggested they go out, and several times she had, to indulge him, oblivious to her own needs, meeting only his. She took a shower, dressed in a sweater and jeans, comfortable shoes, and left the hotel. As promised, her driver Gilles was waiting outside, and smiled the minute he saw her.
He took her to all the places she loved to go to, but by four o’clock she was feeling sick again. She hated to waste a minute in Paris, and had wanted to go to Didier Ludot at the Palais Royal, to dig through their vintage couture, but in the end, she decided to skip it and go back to the hotel. She didn’t feel up to shopping anymore. And as soon as she got to the Plaza Athénée, she went straight back to bed. By seven o’clock that night, she was throwing up again, even more violently than she had the previous night. Whatever bug she had picked up, it was a nasty one, and by nine o’clock she felt like she was going to die. She made one last trip to the bathroom, and this time nearly fainted on her way back to bed. She hated to admit it, but she was starting to panic. And after lying in bed crying for another half-hour, she began to think about finding a doctor. She was sure that all she had was stomach flu, but she was feeling extremely ill. And then she remembered the name of a doctor a friend in New York had given her, in case she ever needed a physician in Paris. She had saved his office and cell phone numbers on a piece of paper in her address book. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she called and left a message on his cell phone, and lay on her bed afterward with her eyes closed, feeling frightened to be so ill. She hated getting sick when she was on trips and far from home. She thought about calling Zack again, and felt stupid even thinking about it. What was there to say, except that she was feeling awful and had the flu? She didn’t want to call Jade and David and upset them, either, so she lay on her bed, waiting for the doctor to call her back, which he did promptly. She was impressed when he returned her call within minutes and promised to come to the hotel at eleven.
The concierge called as soon as he entered the hotel, and told her that the doctor was on his way upstairs. At least by then she hadn’t thrown up in nearly two hours, and she hoped it meant she was on the mend. She felt silly to have bothered a doctor for something that was surely minor, even if disagreeable, and he probably couldn’t do anything about it anyway. She was feeling sheepish as she opened the door to him when he knocked, and even more so when she saw a tall, good-looking man with sandy blond hair in his mid-fifties standing there in an impeccably elegant dark blue suit and white shirt. He looked more like a businessman than a doctor, as he introduced himself as Docteur Jean-Charles Vernier. And when she apologized for disturbing him on a Saturday night, he insisted that he had been at a dinner party nearby anyway and didn’t mind at all. He said he was delighted to help her, although visiting patients in hotels was not usual for him. Timmie knew he was an internist and a reputed professsor at the Faculté de Médicine. He had left the dinner party promptly after
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