Page 70 of Undeniably Corrupt
Except as I say that, naturally, she starts to cough.
“It’s a little wet, but nothing bad,” Stone notes. “It’s probably viral, but it could be a million things—a cold, the flu, or early stages of something else like an ear infection or strep throat. Without seeing her, I can’t say for sure. Has she had any medication today?”
“No. Not that I know of. They just had me come down and pick her up.”
“Did you call your girlfriend—I mean her mother?”
Fucker.
“She’s working. I called her, but she didn’t pick up. I’ll text her and let her know what the deal is and that I’m taking Hazel home.”
“Home. I love that.”
“Stop being a di—jerk,” I finish, dragging a hand across my bristly jaw as we come to a stoplight. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”
“Actually, I don’t. Not even a little. I think it’s exactly like that. In fact, I hope it is. We all do. You just haven’t faced it yet. I’m only messing with you because I want you to wake up and see this for what it is and what it should be.” Before I can rebuke any of that, he continues with, “Keep her hydrated with things like water, juice, or Pedialyte, but avoid dairy for now. If Liora’s okay with it, she can have children’s ibuprofen and acetaminophen. Give her ten to fifteen milligrams per kilogram.”
“What the what now?”
“The dosing is on the box. Just read the box. Alternate them if the fever stays up. Call me if she develops any new symptoms or if the fever goes above 103.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, unless you want to bring her here to the ER and have her wait. It’s a full house today, and she’s non-emergent.”
I glance at Hazel in the rearview mirror. Her eyes are half-closed, and her rabbit is crushed to her chest. “No, I’ll take her home. Thanks, brother. As always, you keep it simple for me,” I deadpan.
“That’s my job. And Vander?” His tone shifts, becoming less mocking. “Kids are tougher than they look. You won’t break her. I gotta run. My traumas are rolling in.”
Stone disconnects the call, and I type out a quick text to Liora before the light turns green and I drive us across the Harvard Bridge into Cambridge.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into my driveway and unbuckling Hazel. The house is quiet and dark but clean. Liora lives here, but you’d never know it. She hasn’t added any of her stuff to any of my spaces. Not that she had a lot, but other than a couple of Hazel’s toys and things neatly tucked away, the rest is untouched.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, setting her down in the kitchen.
She shakes her head.
I have no idea if Liora has medicine for her or not, but I quickly go online and order up the stuff Stone mentioned to be delivered along with other things like popsicles, soup, a thermometer, and Pedialyte. Things I remember my mother having when I was little and sick.
“So, um. Do you want to watch TV?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice small. She walks toward my family room, where I have the eighty-five-inch TV, and looks at me before she climbs up onto the sofa. “Are you mad?”
“What?” I ask, caught off guard. I haven’t been mean or short with her, have I?
“I not to be on sofa,” she whispers like she’s committing a crime. “Little hands make big messes.”
I cough out a laugh. “Is that what your mommy says?”
She nods.
I look at the pristine gray leather beneath her. “It’s fine. Youcan sit and play on it. I don’t care if you make a mess, and if you make a big one, I can always replace it.” I turn on the TV and see it’s already set for PBS Kids. “Is this good?”
“I likeSuper Why.”
“Is that what this is?”
She laughs. “Yes, silly.” But then she starts coughing a lot, and worry strikes through me.
