Page 34 of Weatherman

Deandra flipped a hand of artistic nails at me. “I know Joanna pretty good. I think that Marsha person is a tourist, so anyone can take her. I’ll work them in so you can go on home and keep your germs to yourself.”

“Everyone says it’s allergies.”

“Mm-hmm. You ain’t had no allergies before, and there’s a nasty flu bug goin’ ’round the schools. Take the day. Maybe tomorrow too.”

I decided not to argue. A phone call and quick drive later, I was picking up a very irritated Pearl. My normally cheerful girl was not happy and letting the world know it. She threw a fit when I put her in her car seat, then another one when I took her out. I sat her in her high chair, where she wailed until I lifted her on my lap. Not even her favorite McDonald’s fries made her want to eat.

My girl was sick. Had to be. Kids got ear infections, right? She wasn’t pulling at her ears, though, and they didn’t look red. Her gums were fine, so she wasn’t teething. Growing pains? It was a thing. Maybe she had a fever. It was hard to tell, as I was flushed myself.

I dosed her with baby Tylenol and sat in the rocker, hoping the familiar rhythmic movement would get her to sleep for a nap. The pediatrician was still open, and I needed to call and see if they had time to see her this afternoon. I prayed I would make it until then. My head was about to explode, and I wanted to cry with absolute frustration. I understood why some parents had to walk away from screaming, crying children. It was the biggest experience of helplessness, yet you still had to take care of your kid regardless of their behavior. No one ever warns parents that there will be times of such exasperation, you wonder if you’re cut out to be one. My patience was growing thinner and thinner as my head pounded away.

No, that was the door. Someone was knocking at my door.

My heart jumped. Surprise visitors were usually not the good kind. I hadn’t had good experiences with the police, and I couldn’t think of anyone else who would show up at my apartment.

Is it about Kimmie?

The knocking persisted, and I hauled myself up from the chair with a crying Pearl to answer the door.

The person was wearing a uniform, though not the one I was expecting. A brown shirt with a shiny badge showed in front of my peephole. Weatherman.

I sat Pearl on my hip and moved to open the door. That single bit of effort had me sweating and ready to drop. I saw a familiar box in his hand.

He smiled sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind the girls at the salon telling me where you live. You forgot the wig up at the Lair, and Betsey asked me to bring it to you so you could do whatever before Sunday. I tried the salon first, but they told me you went home sick. Looks like they were right.”

I groaned and stepped back. I wasn’t happy with him being here, but at the moment, I wasn’t up to arguing over it. “Just leave the wig on the counter. I’ll see to it as soon as I can.”

Pearl let out a squeal and twisted like a pretzel in my arms. I yelped as I almost dropped her.

Weatherman caught her from me, and she immediately stopped crying. She sniffled a few times before curling into his shoulder and popping a thumb in her mouth.

The room spun a bit as I looked up at him. “I’m okay. I’ve just never had allergies before. Pearl is the one who’s sick. She’s been fussy all day.”

He placed the back of his hand on her forehead with a frown. “No fever. You sure she’s sick?”

My head felt like it was ready to blow, along with my patience. “Yes, she’s sick. I’ve given her Tylenol, but it’s not working. Uff-da, can’t you tell?”

He glanced down at the quiet baby resting on his chest. “Got a thermometer somewhere?”

I had one of the zapper types that you placed on the forehead for a reading but hadn’t used it yet. Mostly because the effort ofgoing to the bathroom to get it was more than I could manage. “Top shelf in the bathroom cabinet.”

He sauntered into the tiny tiled room to get the thermometer while I staggered to the sofa. A moment later, he placed the white instrument against my head and pressed the button.

“Fuck. You’re topping at 103.1. Allergies my ass. You have the flu, babe. Pearl isn’t sick. You are.”

“But I gave her Tylenol.” I didn’t even try to stop the whining sound of my voice.

“Do you have the adult version?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Luckily, the convenience store down the street does.” He put a now-content Pearl down in her playpen and handed her alligator to her. She grabbed hergay-tohand hugged it close. “I’ll be back in a few.”

I lay on the sofa and groaned as the world tilted the wrong way. I’d never been sick before, at least not like this. Whatever this was had hit me like a ton of bricks. The little energy I had drained away as I got up to get a glass of water. My mouth was dry, and my muscles ached; the short walk to the kitchen was almost more than I could handle. Pearl was occupied and appeared a lot calmer than she was earlier. Perhaps she’d been feeding off my bad mood all day, and I’d just assumed she was sick.

The icemaker didn’t spit out the cubes from the door anymore, so I had to open the freezer to get them. I plunked several in a plastic cup and filled it with water. I gulped down one full glass, then went for another. The next moment, I found myself on the floor with no idea how I got there, watching the water from my spilled glass spread across the cheap linoleum.

River. I left one in Minnesota. I found one here. Flowing water. Where does it go now?

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