I shake my head, glancing down at her. She’s dressed in her business casual wear, a fitted pink blouse with a black cardigan and black high waisted pants. She’s wearing flats today, but her hair is twisted in a neat braid on one side of her head. She’s so gorgeous that I forget to respond for a moment.
“Nope. I hope it’s a cold, but it’s hitting fast and hard. I dropped her off at my parents’ this morning, and she was starting to feel crummy, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Poor girl,” Fallon says. She glances at the section of medication, pulling one off the shelf. “Not sure if you are wanting advice, but this is usually my go to. It’s kind of an all-in-one.”
I nod, taking the box from her and looking it over. I’ve been lucky, Lennie has always been a pretty healthy kid, so it usually freaks me out when she gets sick. I throw the box into the cart, nodding at Fallon in thanks. She nods back, giving me an awkward wave.
“Uh, I guess I’ll see you later,” she says. Reaching over, she rubs a soothing hand down Lennie’s spine. “Feel better, sweetie.”
Lennie barely rouses at her touch. “She never sleeps outside of bedtime,” I explain, my mind whirring with nerves. I don’t know why I’m blurting everything out to her right now, but I feel like I can. “I didn’t want to leave her in the car.”
“You’re a good dad, she’ll be fine.”
“Thanks,” I reply. She waves again, and walks in the opposite direction toward the grocery aisle.
I grab a few more items, cough drop suckers, tissues, Vaporub, and two boxes of popsicles before checking out. Lennie sleeps the whole time on my shoulder, coughing occasionally. I can also detect a steady stream of drool and snot soaking my shirt.Pleasant.
She doesn’t rouse the entire trip home, and I slowly get more and more nervous. I bring her inside first, settling her in on the couch, purposefully leaving her uncovered as I can tell she’s got a fever.
I unload the few bags of things in the kitchen, and head down the hall to the bathroom closet, digging around for the thermometer. Light footsteps pull me out of my intense focus on the messy closet.
“Daddy, I don’t feel very good,” Lennie says. Her eyes are dull, not the usually bright chocolate color. She’s pale and a little green around the edges. Shit, is she going to?—
Lennie projectile vomits all over the—thankfully laminate—floor. I give myself half a second to gag and cringe before I’m rushing over, picking her up and bringing her into the bathroom. She gags again, this time thankfully making it into the toilet. She’s crying as she continues to puke. My heart twists as I watch my little girl, unable to do anything right now but help hold her hair and rub her back as she pukes.
Once she’s done, I help her wash up, and fix her hair into a ponytail. I carry her out into the living room again, carefully avoiding the pile of vomit. I lay her back down on the couch. “Stay here, peanut. I’m going to clean up and grab your medicine and the thermometer, okay?”
Lennie nods, sinking into the pillow and taking a deep breath. I hand her the remote, and she starts to search forsomething to watch as I press a kiss to her burning hot forehead. Crap. I really need to find that thermometer and get some medicine in her.
I rush down the hall and quickly work to clean up the vomit and scrub down the toilet and everything else with a disinfectant. I thankfully find the thermometer quickly after that. I grab the meds, a bowl, and a popsicle from the kitchen before heading back to Lennie in the living room. She’s in the same spot I left her, curled into a tight little ball.
“Alright sweetie. Let’s take your temp.” I sit down on my knees in front of the couch, and she dutifully opens up her mouth without hesitation. I slide it under her tongue, and she closes her lips around it as we wait for the beep.
The shrill beep comes a moment later, beeping again and again to indicate a high temp. I pull it out from her mouth, and wearily glance down at the numbers.
One hundred and two point five.
I sigh, and turn, uncapping the bottle of medicine and pouring the syrupy liquid into the small cup. “Alright, I know you hate taking medicine, but I promise this will help you feel better, and I have a red popsicle with your name on it after you take it.”
She nods, not putting up any fight with taking the meds. I help her sit up, and pass her the small cup. She swallows it down without a single complaint. My gut twists, because she’s never done that before, and now I’m overthinking even more and worried she feels worse than she’s letting on.
I hand her the popsicle, and she wraps herself in a blanket, scooting into the couch. I sit next to her, pulling her into my side. She eats her popsicle in silence, watching the Disney movie she picked.
An hour later, her popsicle is long gone, and she’s asleep in my arms. I keep checking her forehead, but it doesn’treally seem like her temp has gone down. Shouldn’t the medicine have kicked in by now? Isn’t a fever dangerous if it stays high too long? Should I give her more medicine? The bottle said you can only give it once every four hours.
I pull out my phone, debating on texting my mom for advice, until I remember she said that since I was picking up Lennie, she and my dad were going to go see a movie. I don’t want to bother her, though she’s kind of my only option.
That is, until I remember running into Fallon at the store earlier. She’s a mom. Presley is a few years older than Lennie. Presley has more than likely been sick at some point, and she did offer up a suggestion on medicine, so she has to know more than me.
I pull up her contact, and see all of the messages we’ve previously sent each other, all related to work, meetings, and playdates. All of my messages are short, one word answers, and it makes me feel like such a jerk to be asking for help now when I’ve offered her nothing, not even a friendship.
As I’m about to start typing a message, those bouncing bubbles appear on the screen. Is she texting me? How did she know? My palms grow sweaty as I grip my phone, waiting for a message to come through.
12
FALLON
“Can I paint after dinner, Mom?” Presley asks as she takes a bite of her spaghetti. She has sauce all over her lips as she tries to slurp up a noodle.
