JASON
Mom
That inkling you had this morning about Lennie getting sick? Yeah, you were spot on.
Me
Crap. What’s going on?
Mom
She’s got a fever, a cough, runny nose, the works.
She fell asleep on the couch, and she hasn’t done that in ages.
Me
Yeah, naps are no longer in her vocabulary if she can help it.
I can be there in an hour to pick her up.
Mom
No, it’s fine. Finish your evening, I’vegot her.
Me
No, I want to be there for her. I’ll come get her.
Guilt sinks low in my gut. I peer up from my phone to my computer screen where I’m working on some inventory tracking, and call out to Nora. It’s early evening on a Friday, not even five, so things are still slow before we have a band playing tonight.
“Yeah, boss?” Nora calls back as she strides into my office.
“Think you guys can handle the band tonight? Lennie’s coming down with something. I want to check on her, make sure I don’t need to bring her into urgent care.”
“Of course. Laila will be here in thirty, and Max is punching in. We’ve got this.”
“You sure?” I ask, already closing out the screens on my laptop.
“Positive. I know you like to be here for events, and it’s appreciated, but I’m making the call on this. Go. I’ll call you if we need something.”
“Thank you.” I got lucky with my staff, and they are some of the best, most trustworthy people.
“Tell Lenners to get better,” she says, and I’m waving goodbye and walking out the door, sending a text to my mom.
Lennie is currently passedout in the backseat, with green snot sliding out of her nose. It’s disgusting. I feel horrible.
I picked her up about thirty minutes ago from my parents, and after we went through a McDonald’s drive-thru to get her a sprite, I decided to stop by the pharmacy and stock up on medications. I’m not sure what we have at home since it’s been a while that she’s been sick.
Only now, the problem is that she’s passed out in the backseat, and I don’t want to wake her when she’s feeling this crummy. I don’t have much of a choice though. I’ve been sitting in the car for five minutes, trying to pluck up the courage to wake her, or at least carry her into the store with me.
With a resigned sigh, I turn the car off, and get out, opening her door. She doesn’t even stir, and that’s how I know she really doesn’t feel good. I unbuckle her, and pull her into my arms. She lets out a little groan, but doesn’t wake, burrowing herself into my neck. She’s sort of awake now, but still she’s dead weight in my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist. “We have to get you some medicine, peanut,” I tell her. “We can get you some popsicles for your throat, too.”
She nods, and I head into the store. I grab one of the carts, figuring this way I at least won’t have to carry everything in my one hand. I keep Lennie in my arms, since at least this way she’s semi-comfortable, and can keep sleeping.
I head down the aisles toward the over the counter medication and put my aim straight toward the kids' stuff. Why are there so many different types of medications? Daytime versus nighttime. Name brand versus off brand. It’s a lot to take in. I throw in a few different types of cough syrup into the cart, and I continue to stare at another array of boxes, getting irritated at the many versions of acetaminophen. I can’t seem to remember which one I usuallyget, when there’s a soft tap on my shoulder, the one opposite of where Lennie is resting.
I turn, confused as to who could be tapping me in a pharmacy, and see Fallon standing beside me. “Hey,” she murmurs softly. “Lennie not feeling well?”
