Page 64 of Under Ground

Right.

Returning to my desk, I throw my things in my bag and pick it up. “I’ll be back when … sometime.” I look at Anna and shrug.

“What’s wrong?” Anna asks.

“Chickenpox.”

Her eyes widen. “Haven’t you had it? I heard it’s much worse as an adult. I got vaccinated.”

Thanks.. “I’m not sure about that, but if Casey’s got it, it stands to reason I have because I’ve never had it. I hope it’s not too bad.”

She nods. “Me too. Call me if you need anything.”

I would say the same thing, but the last thing I need is to deal with work crap while I’m sick. “Thank you.”

The cool air hits me when I walk out the door, and I take a deep breath. Just being outside is a relief.

It even helps my headache a little.

Maria greets me at the door to day care with Casey.

I scoop her up onto my hip and she wraps her arms around my neck. Her bottom lip wobbles as tears fill her eyes. “I told you, Mummy.”

Kissing her cheek, I hug her tight. “I’m sorry.” I look up at Maria. “I feel so awful. I should have realised something was off this morning.”

Maria shakes her head. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. We get this in waves, and the spots show up where you’d least expect. It’s not until they become more widespread that people see them sometimes.” She’s being so kind, and I just want to cry. “Will you be okay at home?”

I nod. “I’ll order grocery delivery and we’ll hibernate for a bit.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” She gives me a kind smile. “If you need anything, give me a call.”

“Thank you.”

I’ve never been so relieved to see my front door, and I take a deep breath of home as I step inside.

“I’m sick.” Casey sounds so forlorn, but what we both need now is rest. Grocery ordering can wait until later—right now, I just want to cuddle with my baby.

“We’re going to be home for the next little while, so why don’t we get in our pyjamas and we’ll put some cartoons on?”

She smiles, but her smile isn’t as radiant as it usually is. I should have picked this up earlier. We’ve both been so cranky, it bypassed me completely.

Casey hops up on her bed when we reach her room, and I strip off her T-shirt and sigh.

This morning when I dressed her, if there were any spots at all, I didn’t see them. Now, there aren’t many, but it’s obvious.

“I got spots,” Casey says, pointing at one on her stomach.

“You do. You’ve got chickenpox.”

“Chicken pops?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Sure. It means we get to stay home until we’re all better. I think Mummy has it too.”

“Ohhh, poor Mummy.” She pouts.

“It’s okay. We’ll just have to look after each other.”

“And Daddy?”

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