Patience watched the liquid in the dark amber bottle dip lower and lower with each dose. It was a new day, but the man sprawled on the bed remained in the same condition as the night before. He did not speak anymore. He could barely sit on the edge of the bed to relieve himself into the chamberpot without swaying. Worry seeped into every fiber of the girl’s body.

As Schuler rested between doses and cleanings, Patience took to meandering about his apartment, hoping to distract herself. She found a life all neatly contained within this small space. Most of the objects the man owned were collected from his tour. Only a few mementos from a time before moving to Keaton were present among them.

Scanning over a shelf in the parlor, her eyes stopped on a photograph of Schuler and his brother. He appeared about twenty years younger, close to Patience’s current age. The two men posed in front of a nondescript building, Schuler leaning against the siding, Albert standing tall over his brother. Patience wondered if this place was their home or a business they frequented. Schuler had grown up in a city hundreds of miles northwest of Antimoire. Whatever drew him down here to Keaton was unknown to Patience. She would have to ask him once he was well again.

Beyond the windowpanes in the parlor, the sky darkened with thick clouds. Patience lit a lamp and heated some soup to occupy her time. The apartment felt cold without Schuler’s lively presence. She attempted to strike up a conversation with Anax, but her heart was not committed. The skull understood and kept his distance. Waiting to administer the next dose of medicine, the girl ate her vegetable soup in the kitchen, feeling each second pass by in agony with every sip. Droplets of rain began striking the windows.

With the time approaching, Patience nervously stepped into Schuler’s room. As she feared, he looked the same as he did a few doses ago. Scurrying to change the bowl of water and cup on his nightstand, the girl’s heart started to race. With another spoonful choked down, Schuler’s head dipped to the side, strands of hair sliding over his brow. Patience gently brushed them back. As she withdrew, her fingers caressed the man’s face, lingering on his chin. The faintest whisper of a breath billowed onto the top of her hand.

The lines across Patience’s brow deepened with concern. “Sh-should we take him to the doctor in Haverston?”

“Not in this weather,” said Anax.

A cypress rattling against the window drew the girl’s attention. The wind whipped and howled between the buildings. Sheets of rain blurred the dimming view outside. Patience’s hope snuffed out. They would have trouble navigating through the storm in the dark. The cold and water would only be a detriment to the ailing man and pneumonia was a dangerous risk. Her eyes slid to the amber bottle. Just a few more doses glazed the bottom.

Memories of sitting beside her diminishing parents flooded her mind. This was what she wanted to avoid. This was the reason she refused Schuler in the first place. A fist traveled up to knead her tired eyes. Pale in the amber light of the lamp, the man appeared to be within inches of death. Patience shrank away from the bed, sinking her back into the shadows. It was happening all over again.

Though unlike her parents’ decline, this was her doing. She was the one to bring a miasma of illness and death to Schuler. It was her foolishness that summoned this curse, and yet it was her friend who was punished. She had unwittingly been the instrument of her own nightmare.

The girl wheezed a cry through her throat. “He suffers due to my actions. I am nothing but a stupid girl.”

The walls of her heart began to close. She steeled herself. It was true she had lost her innocence long ago when she watched the life wane from her parents and extinguish. The lamp flickered, illuminating the unpleasant truths lying before her. No longer able to look at Schuler, Patience turned her face away. She curled up on the plush bench at the foot of the bed.

“You’re not a stupid girl,” said Anax.

She scowled. “I am!” Catching her volume, Patience lowered her voice. “I’ve made mistakes before, but this one … if Schuler dies … I won’t ever forgive myself.”

She formed a fist and slammed it down on her thigh. This was all wrong. She should be the only one to bear the burden of her follies. She was prepared for that. But life never drew neat roadmaps. Despite the fond memories born from the past weeks, perhaps the greatest mistake was leaving the mundanity of her routine. Schuler would have been fine if she stayed home and kept away from him. Screwing her eyes shut, Patience chanted a mantra of isolation and emotional detachment in her head. Distance. Distance could prevent many wounds.

Anax spoke, his words pulling her up from the depths. “Take me off.”

“Wh-what?”

“Take me off and put me on Schuler.”

Speechless, Patience mouthed the skull’s name.

“You have an amazing capacity for compassion,” said Anax. He lifted a tendril to her chin. “Perhaps I should attempt to match it.”

The breath escaped her lungs.

“You’ve been a good teacher. It’s time I abide by your lessons.”

Patience’s eyes glistened. The moment lingered in her mind before the full weight of Anax’s words throttled her heart. Joy burst within her, releasing a new flood of tears. She blubbered her gratitude as she rose from the bench.

Bedside, Anax grunted for her to proceed. Patience lifted the skull off her head and gently moved Schuler’s sweaty crown to place Anax. The skull settled on the new scalp propped up by pillows. The girl inhaled. Her eyes glossed over the musician and watched his chest lightly rise and fall.

“A-Anax? Are you there?” Patience breathed.

A familiar orb sparked at last.

“I’m here. His head is very muddled. He’s in a stupor.” A wave of mist washed over Schuler’s entire body. “I’m certain I can see him through this illness. Perhaps even expedite his healing.”

“Thank you.” A smile graced the girl’s lips. “Thank you …” she repeated.

“Just allow me some time. And keep feeding him broth. I’ll need his strength.”

Patience immediately leapt toward the kitchen to fetch a bowl.

“Hm, now I know what your face looks like.”

She paused at the foot of the bed. It occurred to her that this was the first time Anax had seen her face unobstructed by his own skull. She also realized this was the first time she heard Anax’s voice away from her head. It rang more hollow, but it still was his voice. The girl flashed him a smile before disappearing to the kitchen.

The night swept its silky, black veil over Keaton as the storm continued to lash the town. Patience had finished her supper hours ago, a meager sandwich for her meager appetite. She had settled on the plush bench and attempted to read. The book she chose from Schuler’s modest collection was about a man selling his soul in exchange for immortality, but Patience hardly paid attention to the story. With every paragraph read, her eyes would drift to Schuler, searching for any sign of improvement. The hours dragged on.

The girl kneeled against the bed for a closer view of the man. She rested her head on her folded arms atop the sheets. The darkness surrounded them, only kept at bay by the lone lamp on the nightstand.

“You should sleep,” said Anax.

“I’ll have time for that later,” Patience muttered, “I need to know Schuler is all right.”

“He is.”

“I want to be here when he wakes.”

“I can alert you when he does.”

“Allow me a few more minutes,” said Patience.

Anax sighed and extended a tendril to Patience. It split into multiple ends and commenced stroking her hair. She tilted her head toward the soothing touch. Her eyelids fell to the same pace as each pass of the smoky comb. Before long they closed completely. With responsibilities unloaded from her shoulders, it was safe to slumber, to shut oneself away from the realities of the world, to feel nothing for a while. The darkness was comforting.

“Patience …” came Anax’s voice.

She buried her head into the sheet.

“Patience …” repeated the skull.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

A single tendril wound its way around Patience’s fist and guided it across the sheets. It set her palm over Schuler’s hand. The tingling of free-flowing blood masked the sensation at first. Once her circulation was in order, she felt it. Patience lifted her head. Schuler’s fingers twitched as he began to stir awake. Patience straightened herself, shifting on sore knees and prickling calves. She leaned in to see Schuler’s eyes peel open under the shade of Anax’s temple. A wide smile broke across her face with budding tears.

“Mm, Patience?” Schuler whispered.

“Yes! I’m here!” she croaked.

“Wh-what’s on my face?”

“I am,” said Anax.

Schuler shuffled his shoulders in an attempt to shimmy himself up before Patience pressed him back down.

“It’s all right. I put him on you to help you recover.”

“H-he can do that? I—thank you, both of you,” wheezed the man. Patience proffered him a cup of water, which he gulped down with the assistance of Anax’s tendrils. Schuler thanked them again with his frail voice.

“A-are you hungry? I can warm up some vegetable soup,” offered Patience. The musician nodded weakly. She sprang to her feet and rushed to the kitchen. On her way, she noticed the storm had passed, leaving a light drizzle.

Despite her exhaustion, Patience saw to Schuler’s needs through the night. She fed him, wiped him with a damp cloth, emptied and cleaned the chamber pot, all tasks she had carried out before years ago. However, there was no futility in her labor this time. With each passing hour, Schuler inched closer to recovery. Still, Patience hardened her heart.

For the first time since they returned to Keaton, Schuler’s sleep was peaceful. His sweating had abated and he took full breaths. The girl smiled warmly and left the bedroom to finally rest on the sofa, falling asleep to the dawn chorus chirping outside.

***

The morning nearly passed before Patience awoke with a start. Worried she had left Schuler stranded in need, she ran to his room. Her worries quelled when she found Schuler sitting up, drinking from the cup of water they kept by his side. He was talking with Anax, most likely asking all the same questions she had prodded the skull with over the course of their rapport. They silenced when she stopped at the doorjamb.

“D-did you need anything, Schuler?” Patience asked as she smoothed her tousled hair.

He shook his head and said softly, “Naw. You took care of everything already last night. I don’t think I’ll need anything for a while.”

Patience rubbed her eyes. eyes, realizing that it had been hours since she last looked at the clock. She estimated Schuler must have woken long after midnight. As she shuffled to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea and prepare breakfast, a murmur of quiet conversation drifted through the open bedroom door.

Waiting for the tea to steep and porridge to bubble, Patience continued to look through Schuler’s artifacts on his shelves. She was so entranced, she nearly jumped when a lumbering body walked out from the bedroom with Schuler encased inside. The creature took the man into the bathroom. Seeing the ambulatory form of Anax separate from herself was unsettling, to say the least. But the girl was glad the skull was so helpful.

Patience was retrieving a jar of honey from a cupboard when she heard a rasp of a voice. At first she thought it was Anax, and walked to the archway to see what he needed. But she realized it was Schuler trying to speak through his phlegm. She smiled patiently at him.

“Y-you won’t get sick from me, will you?” asked the man stopped outside his bedroom door.

“So long as I’m passed to her,” Anax interjected. “If I’m exchanged between you two, I can help one recover and the other resist illness.”

“Oh,” said Schuler with a nod, “good, good.” He was still a bit delirious, his gaze unfocused. The two returned to bed, leaving Patience with a crooked smile. She soon followed them with cups of honey tea and two warm bowls of porridge.

The daylight painted a glowing veneer of vitality over the man with Anax on his crown. It cut through that sick miasma. Patience hoped it to be a sign of things to come. He was weak, but his voice found its footing and seemed less distant. Anax remained silent, concentrating on healing the man’s body. Strong enough to feed himself at the very least, Schuler slowly downed his meal.

“Is it any good?” asked Patience. “I had to make it quickly and didn’t let it simmer for long.”

“It’s perfect,” Schuler hummed before another spoonful.

The girl brightened when she saw he had strength enough to chew the small chunks of bacon in his bowl. Last night he could barely mash the soft bits of carrot in the vegetable broth.

“You know you don’t have to waste your time on an old coot like me,” wheezed Schuler.

“Who else is there to care for you? Whit?” Patience joked. “You’re not a waste of time. Not to me.” Her teeth flashed through a smile. “But I’m not denying you’re an old coot.”

They chuckled.

Hearing his laugh reassured Patience more than she thought it would. Without much else to say, the pair fell into a relaxed silence. It was comfortable, being in his company again. Even more encouraging, Schuler had enough appetite for another bowl of porridge, which Patience gladly served him. Schuler then gulped down some tea before drifting off to sleep. No longer did he have to breathe through his mouth, although there was a slight whistle coming through his nose.

“How is he now?” Patience quietly inquired from her seat on the bench.

“Much better,” Anax murmured. He extended a small tendril to wipe a spot of porridge away from the sleeping man’s chin.

“Thank you so much, again,” she said as she reached out a hand.

Anax’s eye trained upon the girl. His tendril crept down and wove between her fingers. “You know,” the skull began, “he’s … very happy you’re here.”

“I know,” said Patience.

“Do you know the depth of it, though?” his voice crackled. “I felt it in you before. It’s akin to that day we left the spring festival.”

The feeling of not being alone anymore. Patience recalled the sensation of a full heart when she had realized Anax was there for her. At the foot of the bed, she had a complete view of Schuler and Anax. The skull gazed directly into her eyes.

“I …” Patience breathed and corrected herself, “thank you for telling me this.” She got up to take the empty dishes to the kitchen.

For the rest of the afternoon, Patience busied herself cleaning up around the space. The remnants of the vegetable soup went into a sauce for pasta, along with the rest of the bacon. The aroma of herbs wafted through the apartment. By the time supper was ready Schuler had woken.

“Smells good,” he said meekly as Anax took him to the bathroom again.

Still slightly perturbed by the sight, Patience could only nod and smile. While the pasta boiled, a knock came from the front door. Startled, Patience staggered out of the kitchen. She opened the door to reveal Ned Wells.

“Oh! Hello Mr. Wells,” Patience greeted the elder man.

“Good day, Miss Firmin.” He handed over an open box of various canned items. “Here. Figured quick meals were in store if you have to help Mr. Schuler. Mrs. Laurence told me what’s been going on.”

“Th-thank you so much!”

“Cliff’s taking turns with her seeing after your garden and chickens,” he informed her.

Patience smiled. If Cliff Wells was over at her place, her chickens were in excellent hands. “Please give him my thanks,” said the girl.

“Is that Ned Wells I hear?” Schuler feebly called from the bathroom.

“That’d be me!” Mr. Wells whooped back.

“Would you like to come in?” Patience asked.

He shook his head. “I’m an old man. I can’t risk catching whatever he’s got!” he said loudly for Schuler to hear as well.

“I’ll get better in no time and soon you’ll see me at your store with a bottle of whiskey to share!” Schuler shouted through his phlegm.

Patience rolled her eyes. “He really should not strain himself like that.”

Mr. Wells chortled. “He’ll get over it.” He sighed. “Well, I ought to get home. The wife will scold me if I make her wait too long and dinner gets cold. I’ll be seeing you!” He nodded at Patience and took his leave.

***

Schuler ate his meal that night with even more strength and appetite than earlier. Patience even surrendered some of her portion to him. She encouraged him to eat his fill. Even if they finished all her previously bought groceries, Mr. Wells’ gift would see them through a couple more days.

“Thanks again, Patience. I know it’s hard leaving your house for so long. If you haven’t already, you’re more than welcome to make yourself at home here,” said Schuler.

“I appreciate that, thank you.” Patience thought back to the photograph of him and his brother that she came across. “You’re originally from Sylvania, aren’t you?”

“Pittsbera, born and raised.”

“What drew you to these parts?”

“Knew some folks that settled around here. They had good labor opportunities for me, even hired me to play for some of their personal events.” He set his finished bowl on the nightstand and took a large gulp of tea. Over the rim of the cup, he studied Patience. “But honestly? Work aside, it was a woman that led me here.”

She bristled. Schuler rarely ever mentioned his past sweethearts.

“She was born to a good family. And I chased her when they relocated. But things don’t always turn out as planned.” He patted the sheet over his chest. “Still, I’m glad I came. Met some great people.”

Patience smiled, dabbing a fresh cloth to his neck. “Well, I’m also glad you came.”

Memories of the day Schuler proposed dripped into her head. It had seized Patience by surprise. Never had she thought anyone would wish to marry her. But as she gazed upon Schuler’s grinning face, the faint wrinkles around his eyes grew to echo those of her parents. She saw her parents’ faces. Weathered, beaten by age, disintegrating from illness. Patience declined to fall into the same trap of love and loss.

Now as her eyes traced over the man, Patience failed to suppress a sense of warmth and comfort in her chest. Schuler returned a blithe look he was known to sport. Denying further engrossment, Patience stood and reset her focus. Once certain Schuler was wanting for nothing more at the moment, she left to wash the dishes. When she returned, she found him with his head soundly resting against the pillows.

“Schuler’s asleep, right?” whispered Patience, sitting back on the bench.

“Deep sleep. He’s already dreaming.”

“Then we can speak, just the two of us.” Patience paused and fiddled with her fingers. “Anax, you know I care for you immensely.” A long sigh escaped from the depths of her lungs. “I … I hope you don’t think I care any less for you while I’m doing all this for Schuler.”

The skull grunted.

The girl turned to gaze at him head-on. “I wouldn’t have done so much—I wouldn’t be who I am now without you.”

“You care deeply for this man,” said the skull.

“I care just as much for you,” Patience added, stretching toward them. Her front hit the sheets with a soft rustle as she rested on her elbows.

“It is because of you that I am helping him.”

“I know, thank you.” She breathed haltingly. “It means … everything to me.” A tear formed. “Truly it does.” The man was a friend. A true friend. Only a friend. Her breath shuddered. Anax extended a soft tendril to dab at her eye. The beaded tear set like a gem in his coil. Patience dipped her head. She scuttled back and left the bedroom to retire to the sofa.