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“No,” I mutter.
“I don’t feel well.”
“What do you mean you don’t feel well?” My eyes bounce up and down my son. He appears to be just fine, and the last time I checked, hating school doesn’t equate to getting sick.
“My stomach is killing me.” Connor grabs for his middle. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
My shoulders slump. “Are you sure?”
Before he can answer, his expression does it for him as his face drains of color. He spins around and rushes to the bathroom, leaving me to chase after him.
My head is spinning as I hear him heaving in the guest bathroom just off the kitchen.
I knock on the bathroom door gently before turning the knob and entering.
“You okay?”
Connor looks up at me, his face still a shade of ghastly white. “My stomach is killing me.”
“Yeah, is it the nerves, you think?” He’s twelve, so I’m not sure that he would actually know the answer to that, but I ask it anyway. He’s a smart kid, and sometimes I don’t give him enough credit for that.
Connor shakes his head. “I’m not nervous. I mean, I hate school, but not enough to make myself throw up.” He lets out a light laugh, but it’s cut short as he turns back to the toilet.
That means it can either be a stomach bug or food poisoning.
I pat my son’s back as he vomits, and then retrieve a washcloth, dampening it with warm water. “Here.” I hand it to him, and he cleans his face. “Let’s get you back to bed, Connor. I can’t send you to school like this.”
He nods, uneasily getting up and following me out of the bathroom.
I lead the way to his room, which thankfully has a bathroom attached to it. However, I also have a small bucket that I keep handy underneath his sink. It’s not the first time we’ve dealt with stomach troubles, and sometimes making it to the bathroom is impossible.
Problem is, I really need to get to work.
I pull back the covers of his bed for him as he puts his pjs back on. “I’ll have to see if someone can come over and watch you.”
“Like Mom?” His face scrunches up, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s about to be sick again or if it’s something else.
“Um, I can call her if you’d like. I don’t think she’ll be able to take off work.”Or that she’ll want to.
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs, leaning his head back against the pillow. I grab up the remote for the TV on his dresser and turn it on. “Sorry for messing up your day, Dad.”
I pause as the Netflix app opens and look over to him. “You’re not messing up my day, buddy. It’s not like you planned to get sick, and taking care of you is never a burden.”
He smiles weakly as I hand him the remote to find something to watch. “I guess. But I feel like a burden a lot.”
My heart sinks, and suddenly, I can’t even think about the fact I need to be putting out fires at work. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know.” Connor looks away from me.
“Does this have anything to do with last night?” I ask the question carefully, not wanting to put anymore thoughts in his head if that’s not what this is about.
He meets my gaze and then shrugs. “Not really, but kind of, I guess. I don’t know. I just feel like everything would be so much easier if I wasn’t around.”
“Oh, buddy.” I sigh, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “I would take all of life’s worst complications as long as it meant you were here. There’s nothing I would change. Well.” I pause, smiling. “Maybe there are some things I’d change, but none that would result in you not being here. You’re my greatest achievement in this life.”
Connor smiles, albeit weakly. “You really think that?”
I nod. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t. I know things have been rough around here, and I wish I could change it. But some things are out of my control, unfortunately.”
