“Dara, open the door!” Michael Corinthos balanced a tray in one hand and prepared to kick the guestroom door in if necessary.
“It's not-“ Dara's response was derailed by a deep, painful-sounding cough. “It's not,” she tried again weakly, “locked.”
Sonny was mildly surprised. He had been certain, since his wife's return from her unsuccessful trip to the Dominican, that the door to the guestroom was locked each night as a message to him. “What is wrong with you?”
Dara glared at him through red, watery eyes. “I must have picked up a bug when I was down in the Dominican Republican.”
“That's obvious,” Sonny replied. “What I meant was... what is wrong with you that you'd rather suffer alone than let me take care of you?”
“I'm sure that this will come as a total shock to you, Michael, but everything in the universe isn't about you!” Dara paused to blow her nose. “I've been drinking lots of orange juice and taking ibuprofen. It just hasn't kicked in yet.”
Sonny shook his head. “None of that will work if you don't have any food in your stomach.” He placed the tray on Dara's lap. “Eat,” he commanded. “I've made a couple of ham and egg omelets.”
Dara took one look at the food before making a mad dash for the bathroom. For several minutes she retched into the porcelain toilet. “That's it,” Sonny murmured. “I am calling Dr. Lee. You need more than just orange juice and aspirin.”
“No!” Dara protested. “Not him.” She was seized by a fit of coughing. “He works for you. I want a doctor who will respect the fact that I am the patient, not just your wife.”
Sonny forced himself to take a deep breath. He was insulted by his wife's insinuation that Sonny would somehow play games with a matter as serious as her health. “What the hell difference does that make, Dara? He's a good doctor!”
“It matters to me! You have managed to manipulate control of my life for the next six months. I'll be damned,” Dara managed between coughs, “if I let you have control of my body as well.”
“Fine,” Sonny bit off. “I will call your cousin Ellen. Is that better?”
Dara nodded weakly. “Yes. But I will go to her .” She gave her husband a pointed look. “Now… if you'll excuse me, I need to get dressed.”
“I'm not going anywhere, Dara,” Sonny replied. “You can hardly stand. I'm gonna help you shower and get dressed.” His patience slipped when Dara tried to protest. “Counselor, there is no part of you that I haven't seen. Or tasted,” he said angrily. “So cut the independent shit for just a minute and let me help you!”
