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Her trouble areas were writing, language arts, and English. At only two and a half, she was still above average, but those were the areas we’d focus on most in the next few months. When I was better, I’d tailor the lesson plan to fit her favorite methods of intake and more fundamental skills.
“Let’s get you back in bed, my love.”
Malachi lifted me into his arms and carried me into the bedroom. He peeled the covers back and laid me down gently. I got comfortable on the pillow and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would find me soon.
“Can you put the trashcan beside the bed?”
“Yeah. Let me dry it out and put another bag inside.”
“Thanks so much.”
“Just looking after you like you’ve been looking after me. That’s what we do, my love. Aussie, how about you come help me and give Mommy a second to breathe?”
Instead of protesting for her presence, I agreed with Malachi. I needed a few minutes alone, but I wanted my baby back as soon as I’d gathered myself.
“Alright. Be right back, okay?”
“Okay, sweetie.”
“If you need me, say AUSSIE!”
“Alright. I will.”
“Be right back, okay?” She repeated herself, needing me to know that she’d be back and I had absolutely nothing to worry about.
“Ummmm.” I moaned, feeling the comfort of the bed consuming me.
My phone chimed on the nightstand. I didn’t have the strength to reach for it and I surely didn’t have the strength to take a call. Whoever it was would have to wait and I didn’t mean a few hours. They had to wait a few days until I was better and out of bed. For the time being, I wasn’t taking any calls.
Malachi and Aussie made their way back into the room after a few minutes. He placed the trashcan beside the bed and lined it with a new bag. Aussie brought a new glass of ice water and set it on the side table.
I peered out the window. The sun was beginning to settle and another day had passed me by. Misery had snaked its way into my world and didn’t want to let up. Though my sickness played a vital role in the way I felt, the things I saw when I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep was the key source.
“Aeir.” Malachi sighed from the other end of the room, “You want to talk about what’s wrong with you? The reason you’re not feeling well?”
I could see the stress and uncertainty written all over his face. He was exhausted and confused simultaneously.
“Once Aussie is in bed, I promise we can talk.”
He checked the clock on the wall before nodding. “That works.”
There was only an hour and a half left for Aussie to stay under me. Once that time winded down, she’d start with a bath and end her night tucked under the covers. I dreaded that moment.
I wasn’t ready to talk, honestly. There were times throughout the last few days I’d wanted to have that conversation, but tonight wasn’t one of those times. I wanted rest that didn’t include graphic images that made me even sicker to my stomach.
“One last thing.”
“Anything you need, Aeir.”
“Can I have another popsicle?”
“Aussie, go grab Mommy a popsicle, baby.”
“Okay. Can I have one?”
“Yes,” Malachi told her.
She was off and headed to the freezer where she and Malachi stored strawberry lemonade popsicles they’d made from scratch yesterday. I wasn’t sure what his recipe was, but I have every intention of using it once I was well to make more of them, in addition to a few others from the fruit we harvested on a regular.
