“I’m going to bathe her.” I carried her directly to the bathroom where I ran the water. She still cried, saying that her tummy hurt. “Baby, where does it hurt?”
“All over.”
Mom came in then and I asked her to get the thermometer. It showed Easton was running a fever of a hundred and one.
“That’s not too bad,” Mom said. “I remember the first time you were sick. I was in full panic mode.”
“Kind of like I am now.” Easton’s whimpers were gut-punching me.
“Yeah. It’s no picnic when your kids get sick.”
“Mommy, make it go away.”
“It will, sweetheart.”
“Make the rainbow come back.” She hung her head as she sat in the tub. I was used to seeing her splashing around, laughing in the bubbles. This was not normal.
“Should I call the doctor?” I asked Mom.
Dad poked his head into the bathroom. “How is she?”
“Not good.”
“Boppy, my tummy hurts.” And with that, another burst of vomiting occurred.
“Where is all this coming from? Her stomach should be empty.” My answer came in the form of dry heaves that followed.
“Mommy, make it stop.”
“Hey, Dad, can you run to the store and get some of those children’s ice pops? You know, for when they get sick?”
“Do you need anything else?”
“Yeah, ask the pharmacist what works to stop vomiting.”
Dad disappeared and I emptied and rinsed the tub, then refilled it as Easton shivered.
Three hours later, she was still dry-heaving and refused to suck on an ice pop, no matter what we did. Her complaints were what scared me the most. Easton was a tough kid. She’d been knocked down on the soccer field, she’d fallen off her bike a dozen or more times, and throughout it all, I’d never seen her complain or cry about being hurt more than a minute or so. Sure, throwing up was awful and gross. But her whimpers about the tummy ache were worrisome.
Finally, I voiced this to my parents, who were still here. “I wonder if this is more than a virus.”
Dad’s eyes drilled into mine. “There’s only one way to find out. Let’s take her to the hospital.”
There was a great pediatric emergency room near us, so I bundled her up, as she was shivering, and off we went.
Turned out Easton had to have her appendix out. It was after ten that night when they decided to remove it. Because of the time, she spent the night there with me by her side.
In the morning, when she was fully awake, I got my first smile.
“Mommy, what are you doing on that little bed?”
“I stayed with you. You’re in the hospital. You had an operation.”
“I did? Did I have my tonsils out?”
One of her school friends had had that done in the fall. I laughed. “No, sweetheart, you had your appendix out. It was making you sick. Remember how your tummy hurt?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt now.”
“That’s why.”
“Why’d it do that?”
“Who knows. Sometimes it happens, but now that they took it out, it won’t hurt you ever again.”
“You mean my tummy will never hurt?”
I pushed her hair back and rubbed her cheek. “I wish I could tell you yes, but no. Your tummy might hurt again, but never like that.”
“Oh. Do I have to live here for a while?”
“No, you get to go home today.”
“Can you come with me?”
I hugged her. “Of course.”
Mom and Dad came in and her eyes brightened even more. “Guess what? They took out my ’pendix and it won’t hurt me no more.”
“That’s certainly the best news.” Mom grabbed her toes.
“Boppy, can we go get pancakes?” That was one of their things they did together. It reminded me of when my dad used to take me.
“Maybe tomorrow.” Then Dad asked, “Has the doctor been in?”
“Not yet.”
It took a couple more hours for us to get released due to the paperwork, but then we went home. My brothers and sisters popped in for a visit and brought Easton gifts. One of them was a brand-new yellow princess dress.
“Mommy, look! I got a new dress.”
“Isn’t that wonderful?” I glanced at my mom and she winked. Then I mouthed, “Nice work.”
Everyone soon left so Easton could rest. While she was napping, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Stacey.
“Hey, girl, what’s going on?” I asked.
Her sobs told me something was very wrong.
“Stacey, what’s going on?”
“He broke up with me.”
She was bawling so hard, it was difficult to understand her. “What?”
“Reed—he broke it off. He broke off our engagement.”
I was stunned. They were the couple that had made it, the one everyone wanted to mimic. “Stacey, I don’t know what to say.”
“Neither did I.”
“Why don’t you come over and tell me about it?” I explained why I couldn’t leave the house. She only lived about a mile from here.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Chapter Seven
Tristian
Family. Most people loved this word. Not me. It represented nothing but harsh words and conflict. My family should be listed under the word ‘dysfunctional’ in the dictionary. It stood for everything wrong and nothing right.
The circular driveway was filled with their high-priced cars when I arrived. Mother had certainly called out the posse for this.
One of the servants opened the front door before I’d even had the chance to turn the large knob. “Welcome home, sir.”
“Nice to see you, George.”
“They’re in the drawing room.”
“Of course they are.”
“May I bring you a beverage?”
“Not yet, thanks.”
All eyes turned to me as I entered the room. They were dressed in the finest money could buy, and I wore jeans and a T-shirt. Grit your teeth, Mother. I smothered a laugh.
“Well, look who’s here.” That was my lovely sister, Ravina. She was as sweet as a rattlesnake.
“Hello, sister. You’re as welcoming as ever.”
“And you’re looking quite… shabby.”
“Why, thank you. Shabby is a compliment coming from you.”
Mother approached me and air-kissed my cheeks. She was never one for affection. “She’s right, Tristian. You could’ve dressed more appropriately.”
“You told me to come right away, so I did. That precluded a stop to change clothes.”
“Don’t tell me you wear that to work.” Mom’s pinched mouth all but shouted her disapproval.
“Okay, I won’t.” I grinned.
“Nice to see you, big bro.” My little brother, Landry, greeted me. He was the nicest and most sincere in the family. “Looking good.”
“And you. Looks like you’ve been hitting the gym.” I punched his arm playfully.
“I’m trying to take after you.”