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Emmie nodded. When I looked up, Circe stood in the door as if she’d already been summoned.
“Hey, baby girl,” Circe said. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d come say hi.”
“Hi,” Emmie said wanly.
Circe sat on the floor across from the bed, so she didn’t get in our way. She watched us together, concern etched on her face. It mirrored my emotions. I was getting more and more worried.
“I feel sick,” Emmie said, looking at me.
“Here,” I said and reached for the pink water bottle I’d put next to the bed.
Emmie took it from me and tried to drink, but she shook her head and started coughing.
“Oh, it’s okay,” I said, rubbing her back. “Just breathe deeply when you get the chance, okay?”
“I’m going to throw up,” she said, her words punctuated by her coughs. She wheezed as she tried to breathe in.
“I’ll get something,” Circe said and got up. She left the room and came back a moment later with a plastic container from my kitchen, handing it to me. I held it in front of Emmie with one hand, the other still on her back.
“It’s okay if you do. Your body is fighting against whatever’s making you sick. You’re going to beat this, and soon, you’ll feel so much better.”
Emmie’s body convulsed, and she curled forward. She gagged, and I rubbed her hair out of her face and pulled it back into a ponytail. It was longer than it had ever been, and she loved it that way. Most of the time, we could handle it—I’d told her we didn’t have to cut it again, but now I wished it was short so I could handle it easier when she was sick like this.
Emmie gagged again, and her body jerked as she threw up, but nothing came out. When she gagged a third time, it wasn’t vomit that left her lips. Fire bubbled from between her lips, creating a blast into the center of the room.
“Mommy?!” Emmie cried, panicked.
I grabbed onto Emmie and held her tight. I wanted to curl away from her, but she was more scared than I was, and I couldn’t let her go.
“What’s happening?”
“Sweetheart, you’re okay,” Circe said, speaking up.
I stared at Circe, who kept talking to Emmie.
“Just keep breathing, okay? Slow, deep breaths. In through your nose, five counts. Breathe with me.” Circe demonstrated, counting as she inhaled, her words becoming airy.
Emmie watched her. Her cheeks were stained with tears, but she copied what my friend was doing, breathing in for five counts.
“Okay, hold for seven,” Circe said. “Focus on the way the blood rushes in your veins and your heart beats, okay?” She held up her hands and counted down with her fingers while she and Emmie held their breaths together.
“Good, and now, out for eight counts,” Circe said, and slowly, she exhaled, counting to eight. “Better?”
Emmie sighed heavily. “A bit.”
“Let’s do it again,” Circe said, and I felt Emmie’s body slowly relax as Circe went through the count with her again, breathing in, holding, and breathing out.
After the second time, Emmie dropped her head onto my shoulder and closed her eyes. She looked drained. When I put my hand on her forehead, her fever felt like it was a little better. Not much, but enough that I noticed it, and we hadn’t had the cold bath yet.
“Lie down, honey,” I said and helped Emmie lie down on her pillow. I pulled the covers up to her chin and stroked her hair while she closed her eyes. I waited until her breathing changed again, becoming rhythmic. Panic was close to the surface, but I wouldn’t freak out right now. Emmie was calm, and she was about to fall asleep. I just needed her to be okay, to sleep it off.
When I was sure she was asleep, I stood. Circe got up from her position on the floor, and we left her room together. Circe pulled the door closed behind her, leaving it ajar so the light from the living room didn’t wake Emmie again, before she turned to me.
“What the hell was that?!” I asked, struggling to keep my voice down.
I pressed my fingers to my lips before I clutched at my throat. I shook my head, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen, but there was no sense to be made.
“Danna—”
