21
Frankie
The sour smellhit a second after Collette’s tears came. I moved into action immediately.
“Oh, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.” I scooped her up into my arms and brought her straight to the bathroom off her bedroom.
“I’m going to clean her up,” I said to Harrison, who was surprisingly right behind us. “Did you throw up in your bed?” I asked her.
She cried harder and nodded.
“I’ll get the sheets,” he said without hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still sobbing.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It happens when you get sick. You can’t always make it to the potty.”
She nodded, her lip trembling. In the light of the bathroom, her lids were heavy, and her pallor green under damp skin.
“I went to your room, and you weren’t there,” she said pathetically.
“I’m so sorry. You poor thing. I’m here now. It’s okay.”
She nodded and curled deeper into me. I noticed she hadn’t asked after Joey, and I wasn’t about to bring her up. I couldn’t think about anything but making her feel better and getting her out of these soaked pajamas. I had been singularly focused since the moment she appeared in the bedroom.
“Why were you in Harrison’s room?” She rubbed her eyes against the bright light, her crying temporarily halted by her curiosity.
“We were talking,” I said smoothly, wondering if Harrison could hear from next door.
“I don’t feel good.” She started crying again. I gently set her on the edge of the tub.
“I know, sweetie. Let’s get these off.” I tugged the shirt over her head, careful not to get any sick on her. She shivered with tiny goose bumps all over her body. I tossed the shirt into a ball and tossed it in the corner. I breathed through clenched teeth, desperate not to smell anymore. I was not a throw up person. I was the gagging when people even pretended to gag, person.
“I shouldn’t have had all that junk food. You were right.” She sniffled.
“Oh baby, I think you’re just sick. This isn’t your fault.”
“I need to throw up.” She moaned and sat forward as I opened the toilet seat lid.
“Okay, see if you can go in here.”
She gagged. And a roiling nausea made my neck go icy. I had hoped that if she ever got sick like this, instead of the normal colds and fevers, I would be able to power through, focusing on her. It was a fear that sometimes kept me up at night. But with every passing second, the saliva gathered in my mouth, and my stomach tightened. I wasn’t going to get through this without losing it.
Right then, Harrison peeked in the doorway. “How goes it in here?”
Collette vomited—into the toilet— but the sounds. The smell.
The sick rose in me so fast that my stomach cramped. I covered my mouth with the inside of my elbow.
“Oh boy,” Harrison said, noting whatever he saw on my face. “Are you sick too?”
I shook my head. “Sympathetic pu—” I couldn’t even finish the words. Bile rose higher.
“Okay. You out.” He pointed at me. “I’ll take care of this.”
“I can’t let you,” I said, but he was moving me to leave, and I was all too eager to get away from the smell.
“You won’t be helping if you get sick too. Go finish the sheets,” he said brusquely and shut the door in my face.
