Man Flu Chronicles

Man Flu Chronicles

The comforting aroma of chamomile and the sweet scent of frosted cake filled the cozy café. Clara leaned back in her chair, swirling her tea bag in the steaming cup. Across the table, her best friend, Mia, listened intently, her head tilted in that familiar way that said, I’m all ears.

“You won’t believe what Tom is doing right now,” Mia began, her voice teetering between exasperation and disbelief. She set her spoon down with a little too much force, causing her tea to ripple in protest.

Clara raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Oh, this sounds good. Spill.”

Mia sighed, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. “He’s ‘sick.’ And by sick, I mean he has a mild cold. But you’d think he was on his deathbed. He’s been whining non-stop since yesterday, and I swear, Clara, he’s worse than Ellie.”

Clara’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Ellie—your three-year-old?”

“Yes!” Mia exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “At least with her, I can distract her with cartoons or a snack. Tom, on the other hand, has been moaning from the couch like he’s auditioning for a tragic play. ‘Mia, I need water. Mia, can you fluff my pillow? Mia, the blanket is too heavy.’”

Clara nearly choked on her tea, laughing. “The blanket is too heavy?”

“Yes!” Mia said, her voice rising. “He said it was ‘crushing’ him. So now he’s using Ellie’s little unicorn throw because apparently, that’s the only blanket light enough for his ‘delicate condition.’”

Clara burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Mia, that’s… that’s incredible. Please tell me you took a picture.”

“Of course I did,” Mia said, smirking. “I’m saving it for the next time he tries to act all tough and manly.”

“Smart move,” Clara said, still chuckling. “But seriously, how are you managing?”

Mia sighed, taking a sip of her tea. “Barely. I’ve been running around all day. Ellie spilled juice on the rug, the dog got into the trash, and in the middle of it all, Tom’s calling me from the couch like I’m his personal nurse. ‘Mia, can you make me soup?’ ‘Mia, I need more tissues.’ ‘Mia, the remote is too far away.’”

Clara shook her head, trying to suppress another laugh. “Men are such babies when they’re sick. Jacob’s the same way. Last year, he had a slight fever and insisted I check on him every hour. He even made me write down his temperature like I was charting his vitals.”

Mia groaned in solidarity. “Why are they like this? I mean, I’ve had the flu before and still managed to take care of Ellie, clean the house, and make dinner. But give them a sniffle, and suddenly it’s the apocalypse.”

“Exactly,” Clara said, nodding. “It’s like their hearts are in the right place most of the time, but the moment they feel even slightly unwell, they completely fall apart.”

“Completely,” Mia agreed, slicing into her lemon cake. “And then they act like we should be impressed by their ‘strength’ for surviving it. I caught Tom googling ‘symptoms of severe colds’ earlier. He tried to convince me he might have something rare.”

Clara’s laughter filled the air, drawing amused glances from nearby tables. “Oh no, he’s a Googler? That’s dangerous.”

“The worst,” Mia said, shaking her head. “I finally had to take his phone away and tell him to rest. Of course, that led to more whining about how he was ‘just trying to be informed.’”

Clara leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You should write a guidebook: ‘How to Survive a Husband with a Cold.’ Step one: Hide the electronics. Step two: Invest in noise-canceling headphones.”

Mia laughed, nearly spilling her tea. “Step three: Stock up on tissues and patience. Lots of patience.”

“And chocolate,” Clara added. “For yourself, of course.”

“Naturally,” Mia said, grinning. “Honestly, though, it’s a good thing we have moments like this. Tea, cake, and a sympathetic ear make all the difference.”

“Absolutely,” Clara agreed, raising her mug in a toast. “To husbands who keep life… interesting.”

Mia clinked her mug against Clara’s, her eyes twinkling. “To that.”

Just as Mia set her mug down, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen and groaned. “Speak of the devil.”

Clara smirked. “Let me guess. Tom?”

“Of course,” Mia said, swiping to answer. She held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

A series of exaggerated coughs greeted her. “Mia,” Tom’s voice croaked, laden with melodrama. “Where are the tissues? I’ve looked everywhere. I’m dying over here.”

Mia closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tom, they’re on the coffee table. Right in front of you.”

“No, they’re not,” he whined. “I’ve checked. Twice.”

Clara snorted, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Did you move them?” Tom continued. “Because I’m telling you, they’re not here. And I’m running out of—”

“Tom,” Mia interrupted, her tone firm but patient. “Look again. They’re next to the remote.”

A pause. Then, in a sheepish tone: “Oh. Found them.”

Clara’s laughter erupted, and Mia couldn’t help but join in.

“Goodbye, Tom,” she said, hanging up before he could respond. She set the phone down and shook her head, still chuckling.

“Next to the remote?” Clara asked, grinning.

“Always,” Mia said, taking a long sip of her tea. “You know, I should probably head back soon, but I’m not ready to face him just yet.”

Clara nodded sympathetically. “Then let’s savor this a little longer. We deserve it.”

Mia smiled. “We really do.” She glanced out the window, watching as a couple strolled by with their dog, its leash trailing like a ribbon in the breeze. The moment felt precious—a small reprieve from the chaos waiting at home.

“By the way,” Clara added, breaking the silence. “Did I tell you about the yoga instructor’s attempt to demonstrate a headstand last week? He ended up rolling into the mirror.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “No! Did he break it?”

“Thankfully, no,” Clara said, laughing. “But he did knock over a plant. The poor guy was so embarrassed he turned bright red. I thought he might try to headstand his way out of the room.”

Mia chuckled, shaking her head. “I need to come to yoga more often. Clearly, I’m missing all the fun.”

“You do,” Clara said, smiling. “And next time, bring Tom. Maybe he can learn some breathing exercises for his next cold.”

Mia laughed, raising her mug in mock salute. “To that.” And with that, they let the conversation drift, savoring the warmth of tea, laughter, and the fleeting joy of a carefree afternoon.