chapter Twenty-seven
Present
THE BABY WAS a year old in what seemed like no time to me. He’d already passed so many milestones in his short life, and I was glad I’d been home with him to enjoy them all.
Now, though, he was experiencing one of his worst illnesses. He’d been feverish and throwing up, and I called the pediatrician. It was evening and, while I knew I could take him to the emergency room, I wanted to find out if that was actually warranted or if there was something I could do at home to care for him. It was cold and snowy out, and if I could keep him out of the weather and then take him to the doctor in the morning, I’d feel better about it.
The doctor on call asked me lots of questions and gave me plenty of advice too. Bottom line—I needed to keep my baby hydrated or I would have to rush him to the hospital. The doctor recommended that I give Christopher Pedialyte, among other remedies.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have Pedialyte at the house, so I was back to square one: taking the baby out in the cold. Ethan and the band had started getting together two or three nights a week again as they started working out new songs, writing and practicing before recording. I decided to call Ethan to ask him if he could pick up some Pedialyte on the way home. Maybe I could persuade him to come home early too, explain that the baby was sick. I could use his moral support if nothing else. I’d been nervous and almost sick myself with worry over my precious child.
I held Chris in my arms as I speed dialed Ethan’s cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. That wasn’t surprising because he hated to be interrupted when they were working on music. I’d always known the music was the most important thing in Ethan’s life. I respected that, but I knew he would want to know what was happening with his child. I left a message, but called again fifteen minutes later. Impatient, I finally decided to call Brad. He could let Ethan know what was going on.
Unlike Ethan, Brad answered his phone after two rings. “Val. How are you?”
“I’m doing fine. What about you?”
“Can’t complain. And what about the little guy?”
“Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling. He’s been really sick tonight, and I can’t get hold of Ethan. I wondered if you could pass a message on to him.”
His hesitation was palpable. “I haven’t seen Ethan since Tuesday, Val.”
My heart sunk. I didn’t want to give away the ideas already forming in my head. “Uh, well…if you see him, would you please ask him to call me right away?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Goddammit. I knew what Brad was thinking, because I knew his mind had already formed the thoughts mine had about where Ethan was and what he was doing. It had to be one of two things: either drugs or women.
Knowing Ethan, it was probably both.