Desperate Decision
I feel my body being violently pulled out of the water, forcing me to cough uncontrollably. I feel slaps on my face, and then I turn and find Carlos looking at me in desperation, touching my face.
"Dália, are you okay?" my husband asks desperately.
"Yes..." I say, a bit weak. I push my wet hair away from my face and then ask, "What happened?"
"Love, you fell asleep while bathing in the tub," Carlos says. He dries me slowly and then wraps a towel around me, saying, "Come on, let's go to bed."
We lie down on the bed, but I can't sleep. I hear Carlos's breathing becoming stronger and deeper, indicating that my husband has fallen asleep. I turn towards my window and watch the night slowly turning into day. I close my eyes for a few moments and then feel Carlos's hand touch my breast, massaging gently. I place my hand on top of his, forcing him to stop.
"Good morning, Mom," my husband says, kissing my cheek before getting out of bed.
I hear him getting ready in the bathroom, but I have no strength to get up. I know that when I put my feet out of bed, I'll have to make a decision. I take a deep breath and then get up, going to the bathroom where my husband was finishing his shower. I grab my toothbrush, put some toothpaste on it, and start brushing my teeth. My husband dries himself and then comes over to the sink, splashing water from his hair onto me. He pulls me towards him and then touches my face, moving up to my forehead.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"I am, why?"
"You have a fever," my husband comments as he moves away and then rummages through the medicine cabinet, looking for the thermometer. He comes back and places it under my arm. I finish brushing my teeth, and he takes it out and shows me the reading — "38, love. Did you catch something?"
"I don't know, but I'll have to tell my boss that I won't be going to work today," I say, feeling a joy that couldn't be contained.
"Wow, it's like you wished to be sick today and not go," my husband comments, surprised. "Anyway, let's have breakfast, and then I'll take you to the doctor, alright?"
"Perfect."
***
"It's just a viral infection," the doctor concludes quickly.
"I told you that I vomited yesterday, slept in my bathtub, and today I have a 38-degree fever, didn't I?" I ask, emphasizing my symptoms more aggressively.
"Yes. Nothing that an analgesic and an antipyretic won't solve," the doctor confirms, writing his prescription. He highlights the prescription and the medical certificate, handing it to me, saying, "Of course, drink plenty of fluids and rest today, and tomorrow you'll be good as new."
"I need a five-day medical certificate," I say, reading my certificate, which only states the day off.
"A five-day medical certificate for a viral infection? That's new to me..." the doctor comments, laughing as he cleans his glasses.
"It's not so simple to explain, but I need a few days away from work."
"My dear, we're going through a crisis in the country, people are killing themselves to get a job, and here you are asking for a certificate to take time off at home..."
"It's not like that," I deny, shaking my head, nervous. "There is confidentiality between doctor and patient, right?"
"Sure, but..."
"What I tell you here, you won't tell anyone, right?" I ask, interrupting the doctor.
"Well, if it's related to..."
"I can't go to work because if I do, I'll have to accept selling a twenty-million-euro house to my lover, or rather, ex-lover. If I refuse, they will sue me for that amount, and I can't afford it. I can't afford my house either, which I understand will be taken from me because we stopped paying some installments. I have two children to raise and an unemployed husband at home. If I accept, I know he won't stop there, and I don't want to continue getting involved with him. He abandoned me at the airport! Now he's back saying he'll help me and that he got a divorce... That he left me behind because his wife was pregnant. I'm happy! I'm happy, and I don't want to lose that. So, I need five days to try to figure this out. Please, a five-day medical certificate," I finish, handing my certificate back to him, and he's wide-eyed.
"Wow... This story would make a good book," the doctor comments, adjusting his glasses. "Seriously, of all the stories I've heard here, yours is great. You should become a writer, or a screenwriter, and sell this as a screenplay."
"It's true. Please..."
"I can't do that, my dear. I'm sorry," the doctor says, returning the certificate.
"Okay," I say, opening my purse. I take my checkbook and a pen and then look at him, saying, "How much do you want to give me a five-day certificate?"
"Have you gone crazy?" the doctor questions, annoyed. "You just said you didn't have money, and now you want to bribe me? Is this some kind of test? Is this an inspection? An operation to catch corrupt doctors? Selling medical certificates?"
"What? No," I say, nervous.
"My lady, get out of my office," the doctor orders, getting up. He approaches my chair and pulls me by the arm, saying, "Come on, get out."
"Please, wait," I say, collecting my things from his desk, including my certificate and my checkbook.
He leads me to the door and practically pushes me out, then closes the door behind me.
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