“Okay, honey,” I said softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I threw Paisley’s bag over my shoulder and leaned down to help her up. Paisley tried to sit up, but she groaned so loudly I knew she wouldn’t be able to walk. I slid one arm under her knees and the other under her back. She was lighter than anything I’d ever carried. I held her close to my chest while I carried her out into the hall.
Moving as fast as I could without jostling her, I moved through the school and out into the parking lot. Paisley’s eyes were closed again and she still held her stomach.
“Do you need anything?” I asked nervously. “Sprite maybe? Or some crackers?”
“I just want to sleep,” Paisley whispered. I sighed, wishing there was more I could do.
When we reached my motorcycle, I cursed myself again for not bringing the car. I shifted Paisley in my arms so that she faced me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head in my shoulder. I froze for a minute, not wanting the moment to end. It was the first time that Paisley acted like I was her dad. She held onto me tightly, as if my presence was a comfort to her. I squeezed her gently, not wanting to upset her stomach, before I climbed on the bike with Paisley still in my arms.
“Hold on tight, okay?” I said. “I’m sorry I don’t have the car, but we’ll be home soon. I promise.”
Paisley nodded and tightened her grip on my neck. I revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot. I was on edge the entire ride home, looking around me every second to make sure no danger could befall us. When we finally pulled into the driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly carried Paisley inside.
“Here,” I said as I laid her down on her bed. “Let’s get you out of that wet swimsuit.”
“I can do it,” Paisley groaned. I nodded and handed her a t-shirt. She sat up just long enough to slide her bathing suit off and throw the shirt over her head. When she was dressed, she fell back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Are you cold?” I asked. Paisley nodded.
I hurried over and pulled the comforter out from under her. I tucked her in tightly, adding the extra blanket I kept at the foot of her bed.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked, nervously brushing her wet hair off her face.
“No,” she whispered. “I just need to sleep.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come check on you in a few minutes. Get some rest.”
I hesitated slightly before walking across the room. When I reached the door, I stepped out into the hallway and pulled it slightly closed. I looked back at Paisley. She looked so small lying there in bed. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable. I hated to see her in pain.
***
An hour later, I knocked on Paisley’s door. She didn’t answer, so I pushed it open and let myself inside. She was no longer asleep, but I knew she hadn’t been awake long. I sat on the bed beside her and touched her forehead lightly.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Any better?”
“Not really,” Paisley said. She pulled the blankets up around her chin and shivered. I rubbed my hands on her arms for a second.
“I’m going to get you some soup, okay?” I said. “Do you like chicken noodle?”
Paisley nodded.
“Are you thirsty?” I asked. “Do you want water? Or maybe juice?”
“Juice,” Paisley said.
I hurried from the room and into the kitchen. Even though I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a few days, I knew there was some soup in the pantry. I pulled out a can of chicken noodle and popped it in the microwave. I watched the bowl move in slow circles, and I tried to remember all the things my mom used to do for me when I was sick.
It was a short list. Soup. Crackers. Cool wash cloth. I couldn’t think of anything else that might help Paisley. I felt so useless in that moment. It was my first true test of fatherhood and I felt like I was failing miserably. As the soup cooked, I gathered up some crackers and a glass of juice. I went to the bathroom and pulled out a clean wash cloth. Back in the kitchen, I wet the cloth with cold water.
Using a tray, I carried the soup, crackers, juice, and wash cloth to Paisley’s room. When I pushed the door open, she was sitting up in bed. All her pillows were propped up behind her and she had her head leaned back. I could tell she still wasn’t feeling great, but I hoped some food would help.
“Here you go,” I said, laying the tray across her legs. “Eat slow.”
Paisley didn’t speak as she picked up the spoon and slurped a tiny bit of soup into her mouth. She winced as it went down, but she took a few more bites.
“Try some crackers,” I said, sliding the crackers closer to her. “They’ll settle your stomach.”
“Okay,” Paisley said. She nibbled on the corner of a cracker slowly. I wished she would eat more, but I didn’t want to force her. The last thing I wanted was to make her throw up again. I sat on the edge of her bed and watched her eat. I wanted to say something, anything that might take her mind off being sick, but nothing came to mind.
Instead, I just sat there and waited for her to need me. She finished half her soup and three crackers. When her juice was gone, she pushed the tray away.
“I’m done,” she said. “I don’t think I can eat any more.”
“That’s fine,” I said. I picked up the tray and set it on the floor. “You can have more later if you feel up to it. Do you want more juice?”
“No,” Paisley said. “I want to sleep again.”
“Okay,” I said. I grabbed the wash cloth off the tray and laid it gently over her forehead. “This should help with your fever.”
“My mom used to do that,” Paisley commented. She sunk down on her pillows. Her eyes were already starting to droop.
“Mine too,” I said softly. “Maybe it’s a mom thing.”
“Maybe,” Paisley whispered.
I waited until her eyes were completely closed before I picked up the tray. I moved slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as I walked across the room. I didn’t want to leave her again, but she needed her rest. As I backed out of the room, I took once last look at her. She looked to be asleep, but when I was almost in the hallway, her small voice stopped me.
“Thank you, Sean,” she whispered.
I froze, a smile forming on my face. From the second I showed up at camp earlier, I was convinced I was failing her. I didn’t have the car. I only had my bike. I wasn’t sure where the pool was. I had no idea how to take care of a sick child. I floundered my way through the last few hours, just praying she wouldn’t get sicker. Even feeding her felt like a poor attempt at parenting. I thought I should be doing more to make her feel better.