I was understandably worried, and had been checking in on him every half-hour. This time, when I entered his room, I shook his shoulder.

Thankfully, he moaned, and turned away from me, snuggling further into the pillows. I was relieved to know that he was living at least, and sat down beside him. He fought me on the issue, but I was finally able to get him to at least open his eyes.

“You . . . look like shit,” I said quietly, laughing.

He attempted a smile, but didn’t say anything in reply. I knew he felt every bit as bad as he looked. His temperature reading was at least good news: 101.2! Thank God the temperature was falling. I rubbed his back trying to rouse him from the depths of slumber and he sighed and coughed as he came out of it.

“I brought you more tea,” I tempted him.

“Uhhh . . . ?”

“Sit up.”

I sponged him down, and held his mug of tea as he sipped at it, cringing with each swallow.

“I know it hurts, Tobes. You need to try gargling some warm salt water today, that will help.”

He moaned.

“Can you try for me?” I asked, wanting him to gargle before he ate or took his medicine.

I led him to the bathroom and filled a glass with warm salty tap water. “Just take a little.”

He attempted a small sip and managed a semi gargle, as his eyes watered with the effort.

“Good,” I told him, “try a little more.”

He worked at it, trying not to gag, then he spit it out. I urged him to try again, and this time he got the water back further in his throat, but he gagged and retched a bit as he spit.

“Oh sweetie,” I rubbed his back as he tried to catch his breath, then handed him his tea.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“We need to get your medicine in you, and a little breakfast,” I suggested.

“Oooh . . . I can’t . . .”

“I made you Cream of Wheat,” I said, “just a few bites.”

He crawled back into bed and allowed me to spoon feed him the Cream of Wheat I’d mixed with mashed banana and Rice Dream.

“That’s good,” he admitted, and I popped an Augmentin capsule into his mouth and handed him a glass of apple juice.

“Wha’s tha?” he mumbled.

“A vitamin,” I said cheerfully, “mmmm!”

“It’s that penicillin shit?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded.

“Oh.” He sipped some juice and washed it down.

He wasn’t in the mood for eating, finished about six spoons of the cereal before nodding in and out of sleep again.

I didn’t push the issue, and after changing his pillowcases and sheets, left him alone once more.

* * *

I spent my morning showering and cleaning up the kitchen after the previous night’s cooking baking. I still needed to run out and get a few last minute gifts, namely for Tobey. I racked my brain but couldn’t think of a thing to buy for him. Nibbling on the cookies that Monica, Leo and I had baked the night before, I looked through the Sunday LA Times at the sales ads, getting ideas for the last minute shopping I had to do. Christmas Eve was the very next day, and I knew my family was expecting me to join them, so I had to get moving.

I dressed in the faded jeans and USC sweatshirt I had brought with me and threw my hair into a ponytail. I heard Tobey in his room, getting out of bed and using the bathroom. I headed down the hall to let him now I had to leave for awhile just as he came out of his room.

“What are you doing up?” I asked.

“Water,” he croaked.

“Oh I can get it,” I said, but he followed me down the hall anyway. I went into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Ice Age bottled water from the fridge, and went to give it to him. He was standing at the end of the hall, gazing into the living room. The Christmas tree was alight and glittering, creating a festive glow in the room. Tobey’s eyes never left it, never even blinked, as he took it in.

“Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly. “Leo and Monica picked it up last night, and we decorated it for you.”

Tobey’s gazed shifted to me then, and I noticed him swallow a couple times. I handed him the bottle of water, and his gazed drifted back to the tree.

“Come here,” I said, walking towards the tree, “you have to see. Monica made some ornaments . . .”

I was determined to make him like this tree, even though I was afraid he didn’t like the clutter it brought into his home.

Please be happy about this tree, I thought, it was the only thing I knew to do for you. I pointed out the photo ornaments to Tobey and he regarded each one silently.

He hates it, I thought.

He quietly opened his bottle of water and drank silently, wincing slightly as he swallowed.

“Tobey?” I asked hesitantly. “I’m sorry we did the tree without asking you, but . . ."

He cleared his throat, still gazing at the tree, its lights reflecting in his eyes and making them sparkle.

“I’m sor-“

“I am not,” he said, his voice sounding thick and choked as his chin began to tremble, “going to cry over a damn Christmas tree, but that – “ he let out a breathy little sighing sob, “is the best Christmas gift . . ."

“Oh Tobey,” I wrapped my arms around him, finally realizing that he wasn’t angry, he was simply overcome.

“. . . you guys could’ve given me,” he finished, his face near my ear. He was breathing hard, trying to regain himself.

“It’s OK,” I whispered to him, rubbing his back. I knew that being as sick as he was and not feeling good had contributed to the swelling emotions of the past couple days.

“I love you, Nat.” His voice was soft and muffled against my hair.

“I know,” I told him. “I love you, too.”

* * *

I sat there, alone once more, in a room surrounded by memories. He was everywhere in that living room -- in the softness of the sofa, in the warmth of the sunlight through the windows, in the very air itself, surrounding me. I would rather have been there in the intimate confines of that room than anywhere else in the world. Well, perhaps except for being wrapped in his arms. . .

On the kitchen counter were the bags I’d collected during my venture outside earlier in the day. Sunday afternoons were not a fun time for shopping when the next day was Christmas Eve. I had borrowed Tobey’s Nav as my car had been left back at my parents’ home anyway.

That endless sea of red taillights streaming down Fairfax had left me completely devoid of any emotion—least of all the holiday spirit. If anything, it put me in a foul mood and I stormed back inside Tobey’s house tired, cranky, and angry that in the entire Los Angeles basin, I’d found absolutely nothing decent enough for what I wanted to give Tobey. My parents had been no problem: they were the practical sort which meant that I opted for the terry robes, slippers, pipe stuff for dad, glassware for Mom . . . the same things that I bought pretty much every year. Monica was a bit more difficult, seeing how she’d done so much for me, but I did find manage to whip up a basket filled with bath stuffs, pampering whatnots and a nighty that I’d seen her drool over a couple weeks ago. Besides, it was something I thought Leo would surely be pleased with as well . . .

Which brought me back to Tobey. Not a damn thing caught my eye. Not a single damned thing. Perhaps that, more so than the insane, relentless traffic, was the reason that I was in such a foul mood. I hadn’t wanted just anything. I’d wanted to find something that showed him how I felt. Not an easy thing to find in a department store, you can imagine.

I wanted him so much right then. I closed my eyes and let my head rest upon the pillow, wishing I could feel his body close next to mine -- to feel his breath next to my face, his stomach heaving in and out against me.

The next thing I knew, I was struggling out of sleep. Every last fiber of my being was stubbornly opposed to the notion of having to wake up. But I knew I’d been asleep much too long. I‘d probably missed getting Tobey his medicine on time!

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, disoriented, trying to get my bearings together. The images before me slowly focused and I found Tobey sitting next to me on the sofa, holding a cup of tea out for me. I stretched and yawned, then sat up straight, taking the mug gratefully.

”Thanks,” I said. And then it hit me: he was the sick one, not me! “What do you think you’re doing out of bed?!”

”I had to take my medicine.”

”What time is it?”

”Just after nine.”

”At night?” Sure enough: the room was dark and the windows drawn.

Tobey seemed amused. “I guess you’ve been asleep all evening.”

”That’s impossible.”

”Apparently not.”

”But. . .it’s not like me to sleep like that.”

”Well . . . we’ve both had a rough week. I bet you’ve probably had little more sleep than I have.”

I blinked. Even when under suffering from an illness, he was still the smartest guy I knew. “You’re looking better,” I said as I drank the soothing tea. “I can see color in your face again.”

”Well . . . I don’t feel like shit anymore. I still feel like crap, but at last I don’t feel like shit.”

”Only someone sick as often as you are could make that sort of distinction, Tobey.”

We laughed, Tobey coughing a bit. He definitely wasn’t well. “Any mail for me?”

”You know you shouldn’t be talking,” I said, reaching over for the stack of mail that had arrived earlier in the day. I sorted through the letters, cozying up on the sofa, ready to read to him as I had done so many times before on that same sofa.

”Ohhh, what’s this,” I breathed, opening an envelope from Gentleman’s Quarterly Magazine. I read the first paragraph and grinned. “Hey, GQ Magazine is requesting to conduct an interview with you next month.”

”Really?” He croaked.

”Yeah. . . for their March issue.” I was genuinely impressed and I could see Tobey kicking the idea over in his head. “What, you’ve had a better offer or something?”

”Shut up,” he smirked. “That should be cool. Anything else?”

”Um. . . yes! You got a Christmas card from Jopaul and Weston!”

I ripped open the card, excited to see their cute, messy little handwriting. I viewed Tobey’s little brothers as dearly as my own family.

I hung up the phone, smiling. “I love your Mom, Tobey,” I said, turning to face him.

His head was tilted back, eyes closed, his mouth slightly agape -- enough to hear his heavy breathing.

”Poor baby,” I whispered, gently adjusting the pillows for him.

I stared at him for awhile, drinking in every bit of him as I could before the urge finally overcame me, and I joined him on the sofa, happily gazing upon him until sleep once again began creeping its way towards me once more.