Page 65 of Strictly Against Policy

“Are you heading straight to our place?” he asked, sounding like a completely different person with his raspy, hoarse voice.

“Yup,” I replied. “Didn’t I tell you to just text me instead of calling? You need to let your throat relax.”

Anthony gave me a horribly scratchy hum. “Texting takes too long, doc.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

I told him to hang tight, but did he? No. When I arrived at their duplex, the man was waiting by the window with a blanket bundled tightly around him. I scoffed at the sight of his messy hair and sunken eyes. He was no different from Uncle Gary, his dad. Those two never knew how to rest properly or sit still, especially when they were sick.

“Why aren’t you in bed, or at least resting?” I asked when he opened the door for me.

“Why are you masked up?” he answered as I stepped in.

“Because I don’t want to get sick and then get my entire crew sick.” I waved to Shoua, who looked as bad as Anthony, sitting on the couch in the living room. “We’re already getting slammed with sick patients, and it’s not even Friday yet.”

I placed the Korean beef bone soup I ordered for them on the coffee table, along with all the medicine, cough drops, and tissues I bought. I peeled off my jacket as my cousin smiled weakly at me.

“Thanks, Jonathan,” she barely managed to croak, her voice even worse than Anthony’s.

I waved my hand at her to stop her from continuing, reaching over to feel her forehead to gauge her temperature. I did the same for Anthony when he finally sat his ass down. They weren’t dangerously hot, but they were still warm.

I sighed, looking at Anthony. “I’m surprised you’re still able to talk, but I guess even a sore throat can’t shut you up.”

He scoffed. “That’s because I have a better immune system.”

“Says the one who’s sick thanks to that great immune system.” I nodded wryly as I took my seat on the floor by the coffee table.

I rolled up my sleeves and brought out some of the medicine I purchased. Anthony and Shoua gasped at the claw marks Lina left across my forearms last week. I scoffed as they watched me with wide eyes.

I started pouring various amounts of liquid medicine into a new medicine bottle I brought with me from the pharmacy. As I was measuring the 20% benzocaine, Shoua typed a question on her phone and showed it to me with the tap of my shoulder.

What are you doing, Jonathan? AND WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THOSE SCRATCHES ACROSS YOUR FOREARM?

Ignoring her second question, I answered, “I’m compounding an over-the-counter-grade mouthwash to alleviate your sore throat. Anthony, you sounded like shit over the phone this morning. And, Shoua, you can barely talk. Don’t push yourself.”

She shoved her phone back into my face.

JONATHAN LO, DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE MY SECOND QUESTION.

“As for the scratches, it’s because I was petting a very demanding and hungry pussy cat,” I said with a nonchalant shrug.

My cousin flashed me a look—a pinched face and crumpled brows—as Anthony laughed softly before groaning in pain. “Thank you for loving us so much and coming over to make us that stuff, you smartass.”

I smiled, closing up the bottle and shaking it vigorously. “Damn right. You should be grateful. The prescription-grade of this concoction costs a hundred bucks a bottle.”

Shoua’s brows crumpled together, showing me another question on her phone.

What’s in it?

“Over-the-counter antacid, diphenhydramine, and benzocaine for your sore throat,” I replied, capping all the medicine bottles I used. “Don’t push yourself, Shoua. If anyone should lose their voice, it should only be Anthony.”

She shook with a silent laugh while Anthony grumbled a gravelly sound. I grabbed a permanent marker off the coffee table and started writing on a blank prescription label I also swiped from the pharmacy.

Anthony turned to my cousin with a withered look. “Why’d you ask him like we know what the hell he’s talking about? What even is benzocaine?”

“It’s a pain reliever often used for mouth pain and toothaches. Benzocaine will help numb the pain from your sore throat.” I laughed, shaking my head. I held up the directions I had written on the prescription label, stuck now to the bottle. “This is mouthwash. Do not ingest it. Shake it well before using it. Use this every four to six hours. Wait thirty minutes before you eat or drink anything to allow the medication to go into effect.”

I uncapped the compounded medicine and unwrapped the oral syringe I bought. I suctioned five milliliters of the milky mixture into the syringe to show it to them. “You only need five milliliters of this stuff. And make sure to coat the back of your throat well. As I mentioned before, don’t swallow it. All the directions are on here. This only lasts fourteen days, so toss it out when it expires.”