Authors: Shari J. Ryan
“Yes. It was at a hundred-and-three.” With shaking hands, I remove the outer layer of Gavin’s clothes, then quickly move on to the buttoned onesie.
“Have you given him Advil or any type of fever reducer in the past six hours?”
“No, nothing. We came right here.” I look at her face, waiting for the judgmental “you did something wrong” look but there’s no look. She places a piece of paper down onto a scale and gestures for me to put Gavin down on it. The coldness must be seeping through the thin paper lining the scale because his eyes pop open, but only partially. With him looking at me now, I can see something isn’t right. He looks sick.
She quickly weighs him and asks me to lift him back up. I wrap my arms around him tightly to keep him warm, knowing he must feel cold without clothes and the fever on top of it all. The nurse places the thermometer under his arm and we both wait in silence for the beep.
In the same moment the beep goes off, my phone buzzes in my pocket, just like it’s been doing for an hour now, but I’ve ignored it. “Goodness,” the nurse says calmly. “A hundred-three-point-eight.”
“So what does that mean? What do we do? Is he going to be okay?”
“A doctor will be in to see him shortly, and we’ll go from there.” I was hoping for some reassurance, but she certainly didn’t offer any.
The nurse leaves us alone in this curtain-covered, makeshift room where I hear a million different conversations and noises coming from various parts of the large area we’re all jammed inside of. I know how emergency rooms are. We’ll probably be waiting here an hour before a doctor will see us, which scares me considering Gavin’s fever is still rising. I settle down into the spare guest chair, still holding Gavin tightly within my arms. He’s looking at me like I have two heads, probably wondering what’s going on and why he feels like total crap. Why didn’t they give him some Tylenol or Motrin? I wonder if I should request some. At the same time, Hunter’s questions begin to replay in my head. If I don’t let Tori know what’s going on right now, I may never live this down. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I look down at the screen, finding a few missed calls and text messages from her. The latest text message reads:
Tori:
AJ, are you kidding me? I just had to call Hunter to see where you were. Were you going to tell me our son was at the hospital? I’m on my way.
Hunter probably thinks I’m going to kill him now, but I wouldn’t ask him to lie for me. I wasn’t planning to lie to her, I just...have about as much as I can handle going on right now, and drama isn’t going to help.
Rather than reply to her text, I dial her number and place the phone up to my ear. I’m unsure if the call had even connected yet when Tori answers. “AJ, why didn’t you call me?”
“I panicked,” is all I can say.
“I had my hairdresser remove the foils from my hair sooner than she should have, so I don’t know what I’ll look like when I get there, but I figured you’d want me there too.”
“I don’t think anyone cares about what you look like right now,” I tell her, keeping my voice down since we’re not supposed to be using cell phones in here.
“Well, I do, obviously,” she replies. “Yeah, fuck you too!” She’s not yelling at me, it’s someone on the road, I’m sure. “Sorry, this guy just cut me off.”
“He has a high fever, so I’m waiting for the doctor to come in.”
“Ugh, this guy is seriously pissing me off right now,” she continues. “Now he’s going as slow as possible just to make sure I don’t get to the hospital.” I hear the horn blaring, followed by more unnecessary shouts. “When did you notice he had a fever? I thought he felt a little warm last night after dinner, but I didn’t think much about it.” Maternal instinct isn’t Tori’s strong suit, but I suppose not all moms have that instinct.
“Hunter noticed it when he picked him up,” I tell her.
“Of course, Mr. Mom would figure this out first,” she says, sarcastically.
“Easy,” I tell her. Tori loved Hunter up until Gavin was born. It was like a switch flipped afterward. Hunter never offers unsolicited advice to her, but I think she has an issue with the fact that he’s a seasoned parent, and things come a little more naturally to him than they do for her. Hunter’s been a parent for seven years longer so I don’t think it’s anything to feel inferior about.
“Let me guess, he’s still sitting there as your backup parent, slash babysitter, right?”
“Tori? When did you start hating me so much?” I don’t mean to sound like a victim, and I don’t like to fight. I don’t like to even bicker. I did enough of that with Alexa in my last marriage, so I promised myself I’d do my best to keep the peace and follow my vows—the whole nine yards—so I don’t end up divorced a second time before turning thirty. Instead, I find myself keeping my mouth closed and saying, “Yes, honey,” more often than I should have to. Asking her why she hates me isn’t something I’ve ever done but I’m exhausted, irritated, and not in the mood for her attitude right now, so the words just came out.
There’s no answer to my question, just silence. After several seconds of no sound, I pull the phone away, seeing she hung up on me. I slide the phone back into my pocket and readjust myself in this incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, blue plastic, bucket-seat chair.
My slight movement triggers a loud cry from Gavin, who’s now grabbing at his ear. I think I read babies will do that if they have an ear infection. I wonder if ear infections cause fevers?
The curtain parts from the wall and a young doctor walks through. “I’m Doctor Slate,” he says. “I hear Gavin has a moderate fever without other symptoms. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I say. “What do you think could be going on?” I realize he hasn’t looked at him yet, but it’s been hours now, which seems like forever, and I just want someone to tell me Gavin’s going to be okay. “He was pulling at his ear a minute ago.” I stand up with Gavin and lay him down on the exam table so the doctor can take a look at him.
In less than a minute, the doctor is peeling his gloves off.
“This little guy has a pretty significant ear infection in both ears. Because his fever is so high, we’re going to do some blood work, but I’m confident the issue is simply the infection, which we can treat with antibiotics. I’m going to have the nurse come in to do the blood work, and we’ll give him a fever reducer as well, but you’ll need to keep up with that every six to eight hours to keep his fever as low as possible until it breaks and it will help with the pain. Lukewarm baths can also help bring the fever down.”
The doctor doesn’t stick around for me to ask questions, but I’m not sure I have questions right now anyway. All I know is, I have to wait again. Taking out my phone, I want to let Hunter know what’s going on, and since Tori’s on her way, let him know he can take off with my truck if he needs to. School will be out soon, and I know he likes to get Olive and Lana from the bus.
By the time I finish the text to Hunter, I hear a voice say, “Go on in; he’s in there.”
The curtain whips open and Tori walks in with a baseball cap on and her wet hair pulled through the back side. “Has the doctor come in yet?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s an ear infection, but they want to do some tests to make sure it’s nothing more, so we’re waiting for that now.”
“Thank goodness,” she says, looking around the room. “There’s only one chair? What if someone comes with two people?”
I stand up with Gavin and offer her my seat, which she takes quickly, and I begin to hand her Gavin, assuming she’d want to hold him.
“Oh, my nails might still be a little tacky. I had them done two hours ago and…”
“Okay,” I say, cutting her off. “Why didn’t you answer my question on the phone?”
“What question?” She knows what I asked her.
“I asked you when you started hating me.” She stares at me for a long moment, still with no answer. “You don’t even act like the woman I first met. This isn’t you—wasn’t you. The hair, the nails, the appointments every day. It’s like you’re a different person, and I’ve never met someone who could change so drastically overnight.”
She looks stunned and shocked to hear me saying this, probably because it’s the first time I’ve brought up the issue.
Lots of firsts with us today
.
“I—I’m not sure how to respond,” she says, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
“You don’t need to respond, T. It’s just my observation, personal and opinionated.”
“But...you’re right,” she says, standing up from the chair. Her gaze locks with the linoleum tiles beneath us and her arms tighten around her chest, appearing as if she’s protecting herself from some kind of harm or pain—shielding herself from—me, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t feel relief to know I’m right or I’m not crazy for thinking how odd it is for someone to change so intensely in a year’s time. “I don’t exactly know who I am, AJ.”
How can a person not know who they are? I know people sometimes need to find themselves or what they want to do with their lives, but I’m not sure I’ve met someone who doesn’t know themselves, per se. “Now,
I’m
not sure how to respond,” I tell her. Feeling a heaviness in my chest, my thoughts and questions sway from the dizzying look in Tori’s eyes down to Gavin, who’s starting to radiate heat into my arms from his small body.
“What’s the matter?” she asks.
“He’s burning up.”
Tori stands and walks over to where I’m standing and places her fingers down gently on Gavin’s head. “He
is
hot. He’s never been sick before,” she says, stating the obvious.
“Tori, what is going on?”
She looks up at me, her big brown eyes shimmering under the glow from the orange lights above. The innocence and kindness I see within her gaze remind me of why I first fell for her. She looks at everything as if it’s bigger than herself, and as though everything amazes her, but when she’s sad or hurt, it’s like her eyes encompass every ounce of pain she’s feeling within her body. I can look right at her and know what she’s feeling by just the way she’s looking at me. This is exactly why my confusion won’t recede. I look in her eyes now, and I have no idea what’s happening in that head of hers. It’s like something happened, something drastic and life altering, something she doesn’t want to tell me. “I’m not supposed to be someone’s mother.” While I’ve heard those words from her lips before, this time they pack a punch. This time, she
is
someone’s mother. This time, there are no options surrounding what she is or isn’t supposed to be.
“And I wasn’t supposed to be someone’s dad, but here we are,” I say, peering down at Gavin. “Oh crap, he needs a bottle.” I reach down into the diaper bag beside the exam table and pull out a ready-to-use container of formula and a clean bottle.
“You’ve really got this ‘dad’ thing under control, huh?”
“He’s depending on us. It’s our job.” I tell her, taken aback by her simple statement. It’s not hard to care for something or someone you love more than anything else in the world.
“Okay, are we ready?” A nurse asks, walking in with a caddy full of awful-looking hospital supplies. The thought of watching her take blood from Gavin is already making my stomach hurt. He’s so little and the needle will be so big in comparison. However, when she begins to prepare for the blood work, I see with relief the needle is sized for a baby and not one that would be used on an adult. “Could you please lay Gavin flat on the exam table. I’ll need one of you to hold him still for me.”
Tori moves away from the seat. I think it’s because it’s next to the exam table and she doesn’t want to be the one holding Gavin down. This is not surprising, seeing how the last hour has gone, but in all honesty, I don’t want to be the one he’s looking at while being poked with a needle either. Taking the few short steps over to the table with Gavin, I lay him down and hold his arms with my hands while making silly faces at him to ensure he has no clue what’s about to happen.
I feel the need to close my eyes while she pricks him, and the screams commence—screams I’ve never heard him make before, almost as if someone were ripping his little heart out. This is killing me. I hope this goes quickly, but instead, it seems to take forever.
Finally, I hear the nurse’s footsteps, and Gavin’s cries quiet down a bit. When I open my eyes, I see Tori staring through us with horror in her eyes.
“I know you’ve been waiting quite a while, but we should have the results for you within ten minutes or so. I’ll have someone bring in a second chair for you, as well.”
It takes a solid five minutes to calm Gavin down completely, and he pretty much passes out from what I’m assuming to be exhaustion.
“I can’t do this,” Tori says.
Like any good record scratch, my heart pauses, along with every other sound around me. That phrase is disturbingly familiar, and the last time I heard it, Cammy caused my life to change, in an extremely painful way. “What?” I’m not sure the word was even audible. What the hell
can’t
she do?
“AJ, you know I—this isn’t what I wanted—what we wanted.”
“Tori,” I say calmly. “I don’t know what is going on in that crazy head of yours right now, but have you thought through whatever you’re about to say? Because for the life of me, I don’t know what I could have done differently to prevent you from saying something like this.” I don’t even know what she was going to say. I’m just assuming, I guess, based on past experience.
“I can’t do what you do, AJ,” she continues.
“So don’t; be you. How hard is that?” I’m angry. I sound outraged. Is this really the time or the place to have a discussion like this? Our son is in the ER for a high fever, and she’s telling me she can’t
do this
?
“I’m trying my hardest,” she says.
“Try fucking harder,” I snap at her.
Considering the fact that I can count the number of times I’ve sworn at Tori on one finger, the one time being right this second, she looks baffled. “I can’t,” she says, through gritted teeth.
It’s not like I haven’t had these thoughts about her too, but I was hoping it was all in my head. When people say they don’t plan to have kids, maybe they don’t all mean it, but some do. I think Tori definitely meant it and for a reason she never gave me. In fairness, my reason for not wanting kids was never exactly mentioned either.