Page 71 of Undeniably Corrupt
“Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back.”
I run and grab a glass of water, only to remember she’s fucking two and a half, and search through the cabinets until I find one of her cups with a straw built in. When I return, she’s exactly where I left her, though she’s arranged her rabbit on the cushion beside her and appears to be having a whispered conversation with it.
“She has boo-boo ears,” she informs me seriously as I hand her the water.
I’m not about to point out the fact that this thing only has one ear. “Does she?” I sit beside her, making a note of that. Maybe I should bring her into the emergency room to see Stone. “What’s her name?”
“Bunny.” She says this like it’s the most obvious name in the world.
“It’s perfect for her.”
She giggles, then winces.
“Do you have boo-boo ears too?”
She nods and crawls over to curl into my side.
“Then we’ll avoid funny things.” I pull out my phone. “Your mom doesn’t have her phone on her at the hospital, but I’m going to send her a message she’ll get when she’s done.”
Me: Hazel says she has boo-boo ears.
Fuck, I can’t believe I just sent that in a text.
Me: Not sure if you want to bring home something to look in them or I can have one of my friends come over and examine her and write her a prescription if needed. I ordered her ibuprofen and Tylenol. Is it okay to give them to her?
“Tell her Bunny is sick,” Hazel interrupts.
I pause. Sigh.
Me: Hazel wants you to know Bunny is sick too.
“I miss Mommy.”
“I know. She’ll be home soon.”
Me: We’re fine. Take your time.
I send the messages knowing Liora will see them the moment she checks her phone. And knowing her, she’ll likely panic. Until then, it’s just me and this tiny, fevered person who’s looking at me like I might have answers.
“What do you do when you’re sick?” I ask her, realizing I have no idea what sick children need beyond medicine I can’t give her without permission.
Hazel considers this. “I likeBluey.”
“Bluey?” I repeat. “Is that a show?”
The look she gives me is pure pity. “It’s my favorite.”
“Right. Of course.” I reach for the remote and navigate to the streaming services. “Let’s see if we can find it.”
It takes only a moment to locate the show. Apparently, it’s popular enough to be featured prominently. Within minutes, animated dogs with Australian accents fill my screen, and Hazel’s expression brightens immediately.
“Bluey!” she exclaims, then dissolves into a coughing fit.
I pat her back awkwardly. “Water,” I remind her, handingher the sippy cup. She drinks obediently, her eyes never leaving the screen. I watch her more than the show, fascinated by how quickly she’s gone from wary to comfortable in my presence. I want her to be comfortable, not only with me, but here in the house.
I don’t like thinking about how rough she’s already had it. How uncertain and scary her life has been at the hands of men. Liora has done all she can for her, and it makes me love her all the more.
That pulls me up short. Wait. Love her?
