“Sure, good,” he said, in the disbelieving and long-suffering way teenagers have. “Remember, Sarah’s coming over this evening to help me babysit?”
Sarah Washington and Phillip started “talking” to each other, which was like an exploratory flirtation, late the year before. They’d moved on to the next stage. “If you don’t get so involved with Sarah that you forget about Sophie,” I said, because I couldn’t think of any way to say that tactfully. “But also, Virginia will be here.”
Phillip grinned. “Okay, Sis,” he said. He was fully aware I’d rather he called me Roe.
“Have a good time at the park,” I said. “Tell Josh I said hi.” Josh, who had become Phillip’s best friend instantly, was one of my favorite people. In addition to Josh picking Phillip up in the morning and bringing him home in the afternoon, Josh and Phillip ran track together.
“Are you really gonna be okay?” Phillip asked.
“Sure,” I said, to reassure him … and myself.
But an hour later, as I heard the front door close behind Phillip, I felt unsure. Was I endangering Sophie by insisting I could care for her adequately?
I could only take the day one step at a time. If worse came to worst, I could call someone. The problem was, most of my friends had babies or toddlers and would not want to be in the same room with me. I could understand that.
I kept Sophie on the bed with me, carefully centered as far from the edge of the king bed as possible. Easing slowly to my feet, I staggered into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I was scared to shower; I might not be able to hear her cry over the sound of the water.
Blessedly, Sophie slept for two hours. I didn’t have the attention span to read, so I simply watched her for a while. She slept with such deep abandon, so relaxed and still, her arms thrown out. I actually laid my (gloved) hand on her chest to feel it rising and falling as she breathed. Robin had confessed he did this, too, so it didn’t make me feel too creepy.
I turned on the television, again with closed captioning. I found a daytime channel that carried old movies. The women were all wearing hose and heels and hats. I really disliked wearing the three h’s myself, but I had to admit they all looked terrific.
Toward the end of the movie, I began to shiver again, and I pulled the blanket up. I was running a fever again.
I’d turned down the ring volume on my cell so it wouldn’t wake Sophie, and when I looked at my phone log, I found I’d missed a call from Robin. He’d also sent a few text messages I hadn’t read. I discovered that Robin was worried about me, missed me and Sophie, and looked forward to coming home. (That was all reassuring, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the reassurance.)
I texted back to tell him Virginia had stayed the previous night and been a great help, and she was coming back tonight. Phillip was helping, too. I didn’t mention the fever, or Phillip’s absence. I wasn’t trying to be a martyr; but I did want Robin to enjoy his big day. If I complained, he wouldn’t. V. pointed out flowers hand-delivered, I added. Can’t think who by? By whom?
If I got any worse, I’d have to call someone. I ran through names in my head, but I hesitated. It seemed very needy, calling someone on a Saturday. And exposing them to the flu. And asking them to change my baby’s diapers.
While I was debating, I felt my phone vibrate. Robin was calling. “Hi, honey,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Is anyone there with you? I got worried when I didn’t hear from you until now. How are you feeling? Running any fever?”
“Phillip’s not here right now,” I said. “Sophie’s asleep.”
“You didn’t say how you’re feeling.”
“I’m definitely on the sick list,” I said, trying to sound hearty. “But I’ll be better soon.” I hoped.
“How’s the baby?”
“She’s good. Not sick.” Of course, he was afraid Sophie would catch a cold from me. I knew I had the flu, but I didn’t bring up the “f” word to Robin. It would scare him. After all, I was being as careful as I could to prevent Sophie from catching it.
I remembered to ask him how his panel had gone, and he told me the moderator had run a tight ship. Robin approved of moderators who were on the ball. He’d had a good signing line, he said. His publisher was sponsoring a table at the banquet, and Robin would be sitting there with his editor and his agent. I closed my eyes while he talked, glad to hear his voice, but unable to work up much animation. I’m sick as a dog, I thought, and somehow it made me feel better to confess that, if only to myself.
“About the flowers,” he said.
I was surprised he’d returned to that topic. “Yeah?”
“If anyone else leaves a present without you knowing … let me hear about it,” he said. “I just don’t like that.”
Sophie wiggled and made a little noise. “Honey, I have to go,” I said. “The baby’s waking up.” I glanced at the clock. I realized with dismay that I still had hours until Phillip got back. I heard a distant sound that I realized was someone knocking at the front door.
“And someone’s at the door,” I told Robin, trying to sound bright.
He said a hasty good-bye.
I was relieved to have gotten through the conversation.
I heard the front door open and close. I had not remembered to ask Phillip to lock it behind him. Oh my God. I tried to summon the energy to be frightened.
“Roe? Roe? It’s Emily.”
That was the last voice I expected to hear. I was relieved … and flabbergasted.
“Emily? I’m back here, last door on the left,” I called back, alarmed at how weak and croaky my voice came out. I pulled on my mask because I could tell from the tickle in my throat I was going to have a coughing spell. And I was right; it racked me.
Emily Scott, our priest’s wife, was in my bedroom doorway before I could finish the paroxysm. I was as amazed as if Mother Teresa had popped in … or I would have been, if I hadn’t felt like death warmed over.
On her warmest days, Emily had never been more than polite to me, so I couldn’t imagine why she was risking infection to visit this plague house.
“Oh, Roe,” Emily said, when she got a good look at me. “I talked to Phillip when I dropped Liza off at the park. He says you’re sick. I see he wasn’t kidding. The flu is going around.”
I nodded, since I was still coughing. After a moment, I was able to pull off the mask.
Emily was immaculate in a good pants-and-blouse outfit. Her hair and makeup were smooth and tasteful.
I felt even more disheveled and smelly.
Emily’s gaze was caught by Sophie’s hand waving. Thank God, the baby had woken up right on cue. She was adorable as she kicked her little legs and waved her little arms. She hadn’t started fussing yet.
“Oh,” Emily breathed. “She’s so cute!”
My heart expanded to include Emily Scott. “Yes,” I said modestly. “She’s great.”