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“She’s got a fever and threw up in her room.”
“And she didn’t tell us?” Dear god, I hadn’t even considered this a possibility. Caterina told me that Luna rarely got sick.
Caterina lips twisted in a sad frown. “I know. It’s not good. I think she’s going to try some crackers and ginger ale. Isn’t that right baby?”
Luna mutters something on her shoulder.
I nod. “I shall make her some pastina too.”
Caterina deposits Luna into a chair at the dining room table, and rummages through the fridge. I grab a box of pastina that Nonna Francesca keeps for occasions such as these, as well as some chicken broth. Soon, we have both crackers and pastina ready for her.
Luna listlessly tries to sip the soda, then immediately regurgitates it all over her front.
Panic and fear seize my heart. “What’s wrong?”
Caterina moves quickly, cleaning Luna up as best she can before pulling her up again. “Let’s go try a bath. That might feel better.”
“Okay.”
I watch them walk away.
Gia appears a few minutes later. She sets down a takeout box and sniffs. “Why does it smell like barf in here?”
“Luna is sick.”
Her eyes widen. “Wow, she took the news that poorly, huh?”
I shoot her the angriest glare that I can muster.
“Sorry. That was rude,” Gia says with a smirk.
“Indeed.”
“Seriously though Elio, you seem… more than a little worried.”
I sigh and settle into a chair after wiping off the kitchen table. “I am.”
“Why?”
I look at my twin. “Would you like to be told that you’re a parent?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “But I’m not you.”
I tilt my head. “What does that mean?”
Gia sighs. “Elio, you’re basically built for this. You’ve always wanted to be a family man. More than anyone I’ve ever known.”
I nod. I have been thinking of this as well. “Gia… if all goes well, I may want to spend some time with Luna and Caterina. Would you… be willing to step in for me? Should that be the case?”
Gia’s smile illuminates her face like a ray of sun. “I would be honored, brother.”
Caterina comes back to find me a few hours later. “We need to go to the doctor.”
My heart feels like it’s in my throat and I nearly knock over a chair when I rise. “What’s wrong?”
“Her fever. It’s up to 104, and there’s a rash on her chest.”
“Is that bad?” I can feel the panic clawing at my chest. Is Luna going to be alright? I will call every doctor in the state. I turn and punch in the doctor’s number.
