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I hurry around the corner to City Drug, where Ethan Farley, the pharmacist, smiles at me from behind the counter at the rear of the store. Sometimes we flirt, but just for fun. He knows way too much about how many UTIs I’ve had for me to ever date him.
“Hey, Paige,” he calls. “Love the window.”
He’s got three customers waiting and no one on the front register. I don’t want to leave Evie for a minute longer than I have to, so I fly down the cold and flu aisle and grab the fever reducer I need.
“Ethan, Evie’s sick and no one’s watching her. Can I pay later?”
“Absolutely. Go.”
I sprint out of the store and back to Evie, mumbling an apology to a customer who is reading the “Closed” sign as I fumble with the lock.
“I brought you meds, Eves,” I say, stepping into the back room. She’s asleep. I debate whether it’s better to let her sleep or to dose her to bring the fever down. I’ll check her temp and decide. I pull the first aid kit out of the office and run the temporal lobe thermometer across her forehead. It reads 101, and she stirs but doesn’t wake. It’s not great, but it’s low enough for me to be okay with letting her sleep.
I turn off the back room lights and leave the office light on, the door cracked so she won’t wake up in darkness, then unlock the front door and see to business. There’s a steady flow of customers, but I still have time to poke my head back and peek in on Evie, who is asleep each time.
When Gary comes in at 1:00, I explain the situation.
“Evie’s sleeping in the back room?” His eyebrows snap together in a deep furrow above his nose. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come in sooner.”
“I did. No answer.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Dang it. I suppose I ought to check it more often if I want it to do me any good. Sorry, Paige. Go on and get that little girl home. I can handle the store.”
“Thanks, Gary, but I’ll be in the back. It wore her out walking here, and I’m going to let her sleep as long as she needs to before we head home. I’ll catch up on office work, so if you need me, just call back there.”
“Won’t need you,” he says. “Stay with Evie.”
“Thank you, Gary. I really appreciate it.”
Ten minutes later, he pokes his head through the back door. “I called my daughter. She’s here to run you and Evie home,” he informs me gruffly.
Another inconvenient knot forms in my throat. I feel so useless, but I won’t turn down the ride. Not for Evie. I swallow past the shame and smile. “Thank you, Gary. You didn’t have to do that.”
His eyes fall to Evie’s still form. Even in sleep, the discomfort is clear on her face. “Yeah, I did. And Shelly understands. Her kids are teenagers, but sometimes they’ve got to be babied too.”
He disappears and Shelly steps in, her face crinkling with worry when she sees Evie. “Let’s get you two home,” she says. “That baby doesn’t need to be sleeping on a concrete floor.”
“She’s on an air mattress,” I say, my cheeks burning. I hate the judgment in her tone, but I can’t argue with her. Even though I’ve done the very best I can do, she’s right. I hate it. I hate that we’ve been on our own for not quite a month, and I’m already failing.
I wake Evie long enough to get her to stand so I can scoop her up and carry her to Shelly’s car, monkey style, her legs wrapped around my waist, her hot face tucked against my neck. I lay her in the back seat, where she falls asleep again, and I listen to Shelly’s home remedies on the short drive to my house.
Less than a mile, and I couldn’t even do that by myself.
When she pulls into my driveway, I give her a tight smile and get Evie out before managing a thank you and escaping into the house.
I get some medicine into her and settle her into bed, waiting until I hear the deep, even rhythm of her breathing before I leave the room. I’ll find some things to do while I watch over her.
I start by filling a water bottle and setting it beside her bed along with clean pajamas and underwear for when she inevitably sweats through her school clothes. I get a small bedroom garbage can to use as her puke bowl and hunt up crackers to try to coax her into eating when she wakes up.
Then I retrieve the mail from the box beside the door, gather my laptop, earbuds, and a couple of pillows from my bed and settle into the corner of her room to work through the bills.
Mostly there’s junk mail, but the gas bill is in the stack. It shouldn’t be too bad since November is pro-rated, but when I open it and read the balance due, I stifle a gasp. The stove, furnace, and water tank run on gas, and the washer and dryer will too when we eventually get some. I haven’t used the stove much, and with the two of us, we haven’t used that much water either, especially since we don’t have a dishwasher or washing machine. But we do use the furnace, and the bill is almost seventy-five dollars higher than I expected.
That’s nearly half the amount I plan to set aside every month to save for a car, and after today, it’s feeling more necessary than ever.
I stare at it in disbelief. How could it have gotten this high? I’ve only run the heater when the house is still too chilly with layered socks and sweatshirts on, but I can’t let Evie’s teeth chatter.
This doesn’t seem possible.
