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She gives a harumph. “My father would never have allowed another man to see to my mother.”
“Who says it’s a man?” I say. Then, “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“You do that,” she tells me. “She’s been avoiding me, your girl. I asked her to come see me, and I’ve barely seen hide nor hair of her.”
“I doubt she’s avoiding you,” I lie. “But I’ll let her know you’re concerned.”
“Thank you, and consider what I said, son.” She taps her ring finger knowingly.
I return both the Amazon package and the dog to the apartment and leave a note telling Ruthie her favorite neighbor has been asking after her.
I go home, expecting regret to kick in.
I go home, expecting myself to start to freak the fuck out.
But it doesn’t happen.
If anything, I miss Ruthie and Izzy. I wonder what they’re getting into, and if that little dog of theirs is causing any trouble.
On Sunday afternoon, Ruthie calls to let me know Izzy has popped a fever. Another ear infection, she thinks. The doctor’s office is closed, so I offer to drive them to the urgent care. “You don’t need to do that,” she insists over the phone. “I have the insurance card. I can bring her.”
“I need to,” I say, my hands shaking a little. I know it’s just an ear infection, nothing major—she’s had a hundred of them, to hear Ruthie tell it—but there’s a worry in the back of my head. A feeling of…
I’m not superstitious, but I watched my father, a seemingly healthy man, collapse in front of me. I’d like to see Izzy with my own two eyes, is all. When I pick them up, Ruthie meets me at the door, Flower at her heels.
Alarm ripples through me. “What is it? Did she get worse?”
“No, nothing like that,” she says, taking my arm. “Her fever went down with medicine. It’s just…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the insurance, Shane. I would have had to treat her at home and wait for her doctor’s office to open tomorrow morning to get her started on the antibiotics. My co-pay for the emergency room was, like, over a thousand bucks.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I say, feeling like a knight. Maybe Danny’s right and caring about someone isn’t the same as taking care of them, but right now, it feels like I’m doing both. Right now, I could kiss Monty Freeman’s feet.
I kiss Ruthie softly, and then we find Izzy, who’s made a “sick fort” in her bedroom with five unicorn stuffies and a stack of Unicorn Diaries books. She brightens when she sees me, and I feel the rest of my anxiety fade. Not only is she okay, but she sees it as good news that I’m here.
In the car, Izzy announces, “You know, Uncle Shane, I’m going to get a surgery soon so we can make sure this never happens again. Mom says it’s not supposed to hurt much, but I’m pretty scared. Do you think it’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I think it’ll be just fine. And I bet your mom will let you eat as much ice cream as you want.”
“Will you take us to the ice cream shop like last time?”
I glance at Ruthie, sitting beside me in the car, and put my hand on her leg. She covers it with hers. “Yes, I will. And I’ll read you Unicorn Diaries too. As much as you can stand.” A memory hooks into me, and I add, “You know, when I was a bit older than you, I had to get my tonsils out, and my dad set up the living room for a sleepover so my whole family slept out there, my mom, my dad, and me, because he knew I didn’t want to be alone.”
“Can we do that after my surgery?” she asks, an inevitable question that I hadn’t considered when I’d shared what was in my head.
I take another peek at Ruthie, who smiles and shrugs. Your move, Vain.
“Yeah,” I say, feeling emotion unfurling in my gut. Uncomfortable yet comfortable. “I’d like that.”
I’d like it more if it were at my house, not the apartment, but that’s a discussion for another time. We get Izzy’s prescription, and I drop them off. And later, when Izzy’s asleep, Ruthie sends me a photo of her in a slinky red teddy.
What do you think? Do you like this better than the flannel pajamas?
I might need to come over to inspect it in person. I don’t believe in signing off on something I haven’t seen.
I’d expect you to be thorough.
I’m already out the door.
When I get there, I can practically feel Mrs. Longhorn’s heavy breathing through her door, but my attention is fixed on the apartment across from her. The door cracks open, and Flower has either decided to take pity on my libido or is in her crate, because the only thing I see is the curve of Ruthie’s silhouette in that red teddy, which hugs all the parts of her I’ve felt and worshipped. I’d like to do some more worshipping tonight.
