Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Brooke?”
“She lives a few doors down. I just met her the other day. She has three littles. So I guess she knows all about fevers. She was the one who gave me the card for the clinic.”
“You’ll become an old hat when it comes to sickness. Babies and kids catch and spread everything.”
“And I drag her around everywhere.”
“Oh, don’t go blaming yourself. She’d get sick even if you were a complete germaphobe.”
“I’m surprised I’m not sick.”
“Careful. You’re gonna jinx yourself.”
“I don’t have time to be sick.”
No one ever did. Especially single moms. But experience told me that it was coming. Her immune system just had more fight in it than her baby’s did.
“She already seems to be more alert,” Zoe said a few minutes later as I heard Ama’s heels on the floor in the hall.
“Yeah,” I agreed, reaching out to touch her head. She was still sweaty, but didn’t feel quite as hot.
“What happened to you?” she asked, glancing up at me.
“Some dick at a bar.”
“He just… hit you?”
“I may have been goading him on.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” I asked, shrugging.
“Gee. I don’t know. Because someone hit you in the face.”
A little chuckle escaped me at that.
“I was itching for it.”
“To get hit in the face?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Are you a masochist?”
“Helps me think straight sometimes.”
“Hmm,” she said, lips pursing.
“What?”
“I kind of get that. I mean, like, ballet is hard on the body. My feet used to bleed some days. But when I was dancing, it was the most clear-headed I ever felt.”
“You saying I should take up ballet?” I asked, getting a snorting laugh out of her. “Think I’d rock a tutu?”
“Male dancers wear full-body leotards.”
I glanced down at myself, making her gaze do the same. Then we both shared a smile.
“Ooh,” Lainey hooted.
“Hey! That’s my girl,” she said, beaming down at the baby. “You feeling a little better, huh?”
“She’s cooler for sure,” I said.
“How’s everything going in here?” Ama asked, coming in with a small medicine bag.
“She seems a little better.”
“Let’s see,” Ama said, grabbing the thermometer and putting it under Lainey’s arm once again. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes, don’t you?” she cooed at the baby.
“Okay, mama. The medicine can be given every four to six hours. As needed. So if she doesn’t seem warm or is eating and drinking normally, you can skip a dose. You can also give her lukewarm baths. Not cold. And don’t wipe her down with alcohol. That’s an old wives’ tale.
“Oh, good. We’re down to ninety-nine already. So just keep an eye on that. She might develop some cold or flu-like symptoms. If you’re worried about when she does get sick, you can always bring her back here. I specialize in telling scared mamas that their babies are going to be just fine.”
“Thank you,” Zoe said, giving her a grateful smile. “Really.”
“Don’t mention it. You can get going whenever you’re ready,” she said as I lifted Lainey from her arms and put her back on the table to slip her onesie back on.
“Don’t you need my information? We never even checked in. You know, for billing.”
“Don’t worry about that. We can get you on the books if or when you come in again.”
“But the money—”
“That’s all been handled.”
“But—”
“Alright. Well, we should get Lil’ Bit outta here and get some fluids in her while she’s up and happy.”
“Wait, I need—” she tried as I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her toward the door.
“Thanks for the help, Ama. For both of us. Get home to your man before he loads your spawn up with sugar.”
“Wait, Coast, I need to—”
“Get Lainey home. Yes, yes you do. Want me to drive?”
“What about your car? Or… bike?”
“I walked.”
“From the clubhouse?”
“From a bar in town. Ish. My bike is parked near the building of a friend. I can get back from your place.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, if you don’t mind driving. I don’t want to take my eyes off her.”
We climbed into her car, and I got general directions to follow.
“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked when I parked outside a twenty-four-hour pharmacy.
“I just want to make sure you have enough meds and such. I’ll be ten minutes.”
I rushed into the pharmacy, grabbing one of their mini carts and making my way up and down the aisles, dropping a ton of shit in: infant acetaminophen, formula, diapers. And then everything Zoe might need when she got sick: medicine, cough drops, tea, vitamin C, electrolytes, a thermometer, and those shower fizzy things to clear sinuses.
Then, just because, I grabbed a soft blanket for Zoe and a rattle plush for Lainey before making my way to the counter.
“Did you need stuff too?” Zoe asked when I climbed back into the cool car.
“Something like that,” I agreed. “Alright. Next set of directions.”
I guess I’d been expecting her to lead me toward one of the crummy apartment buildings like Seeley, Levee, and Cato grew up in.