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Chapter Five
Although I might miss home, I certainly was keeping busy. Math continued to give me trouble, but I’d made a perfect score on my first English assignment. Perhaps these were only online courses, but they meant I had taken the first step toward bettering myself.
On Wednesday Haylee came over for dinner where I taught her how to make chicken-fried steak and my mom’s gravy. Then after her classes on Thursday, I dropped her and her daughter off at the train station to travel down to New York to see Josh. Haylee was so excited that I knew her decision to transfer to a closer law school would be the right one for her family.
All in all, I’d thought it had been a great week until later that night when Tristan fell ill with a fever of one hundred and two degrees. Everything he’d eaten for dinner made its way out of both ends making me thankful he was still in diapers. Meanwhile, I hoped he hadn’t passed it on to Haylee’s baby. Fevers and stomach bugs were scary enough with two-year-olds, but with babies, well, it was even worse.
I texted to give her a warning and settled in for the long night ahead of me. Thankfully, this wasn’t my first rodeo. The initial panic when I’d been a new mom during his first year had been replaced by experience. I knew what to do, and my stomach was prepared now for the horrors of cleaning up after him.
Motrin to bring down his temp, a tepid bath, and a little bit of apple juice later, and he was asleep in bed with me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before he awoke again, throwing up what little he had left in his tummy. A changed bed, clothes, and a cleanup later, he was back asleep. While he lay back in my bed, I hurried to put the dirty sheets in the wash. I only had two sets, which meant I needed to ensure one was on standby.
Everything was a blur as Thursday night bled into the next day, and I tried everything to keep him hydrated. By Friday afternoon, however, his fever seemed to have broken. His little chubby cheeks were back to peach instead of red, and his eyes appeared clearer. I was grateful this seemed to be a limited, twenty-four-hour bug.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I snuggled him close. “Are you hungry, baby?”
“Yes. Waffles, pease.”
“Waffles for lunch sounds good. And you need to take a bath.” In addition, I needed to wash everything he’d touched and hope to God I wouldn’t come down with his virus.
By the time I’d put waffles on a plate for Tristan and poured his juice, mixing it with water, my stomach served notice. It was too late.
Having a sick kid was scary. Being sick when your kid was starting to feel better was pure torture.
Realizing I was on borrowed time before it hit me fully, I stripped both our beds, ran his bath, and started a load of wash. Next I put him in the bath, then cleaned the kitchen and vacuumed. But before long, I was on the couch and curled in a blanket, trying to warm myself from the chills which threatened to take over.
In the meantime, Tristan acted like his normal toddler self, watching cartoons, sucking down his sippy cup, and chomping on Cheerios.
“Mama, play. Play.”
“Give me a minute, buddy.” I got up and puttered to the kitchen in search of some adult Tylenol, wishing I had some. Something told me it would be a long night.
The knock at the door surprised me, but not as much as Tristan running toward it in an excited way.
“Mark, Mark?” my son asked. Evidently Mark had made quite the impression on Tristan.
“Uh, I don’t know yet.” Glimpsing out the peephole, I saw that, sure enough, it was Mark. “Back up a little and no hugs or kisses yet. We don’t want to spread germs. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
He had no idea what I was saying, so I kept a hold of his hand to keep him contained.
“Hey,” Mark greeted when I opened the door. He immediately glanced down toward Tristan and then back up at me, his expression looking concerned. “You guys okay?”
I felt like a complete scrub. But the man had already witnessed me embarrass myself verbally. That he should now view my less-than-flattering appearance was just icing on the cake.
“Yeah, but don’t come any closer. Tristan is on the up side, but I think my battle with this nasty virus is only beginning.”
“You don’t look good. At all.”
It was official. Maybe I had in fact hit rock bottom. Had I even managed to brush my hair today? I didn’t think so. The thought had me giggling, bordering on hysteria.
His face turned pink and as always it was adorable. He was probably trying to figure out whether to back away slowly from the crazy girl or pat me on the head and say, ‘bless her heart.’
“I didn’t mean—You know what? I only meant you look as though you’re sick.”
I gave him a lopsided grin. “I know. I just lost my grip on sanity for a moment. Now go save yourself and move far away from this hazmat situation.”
Tristan tugged at my hand. “I wanna play with Mark.”
