Chapter 23

Haley’s turn:

“I have a forty-two year old white male, unconscious, with a fever of one-oh-three.”

“Uh, can you get ‘im to the ER?”

“Unconscious, but we can try...”

“If you can’t, call us back.”

Deena was watching.

“Tax dollars at work,” I said. I poked Bill. “Baby?”

A moan.

“We’re hauling you to the ER.”

“Dressed...”

“Get ‘is shorts, Deena.”

Took two of us to get his shorts on. I got the car up close to the door.

Took both of us to maneuver him into the back seat.

“Wallet,” Deena said. “We need his wallet.”

“Grab my backpack too,” I said as I struggled to buckle his seatbelt.

Ten minutes to the ER.

A bit of a harangue to get a gurney out to retrieve an only slightly conscious Bill out of the back seat.

Handed his wallet to Deena. “They’ll ask a million questions.”

I parked the car, hurried back. No Deena.

“They’re in the exam room.”

I pushed through the doors and found them. A technician was drawing blood.

“Anything?” I asked.

“No, but they said we were right to bring ‘im in.”

I touched Bill’s face. The heat was apparent. His eyes didn’t even flutter.

The doctor stepped into the curtained area. “You’re...”

“His wife.”

I noted the raised eyebrow. I know I barely look like a teen, much less somebody married to Bill.

“Okay. Mizz Simon.”

“See-moan,” I corrected.

“Ah, yes, Cajuns ... Mizz Simon,” pronouncing it correctly, “you were correct to bring him in. Let’s talk about history...”

I told him of the crawfish boil yesterday and of his road trip late last week.

“Very well could be what everybody calls ‘food poisoning’. Possible bacterial thing.”

A nurse showed up.

“We’re gonna have to cath him. We need a urine sample, and we don’t need him with a full bladder. We’re dumping fluids in him to keep him hydrated and they’re gonna come out.”

The nurse looked at me and Deena. “Y’all might wanna step out while I do this.”

Yeah, okay, perhaps I don’t want to watch somebody abuse my husband’s dong. Deena and I stepped outside.

“He’s gonna be okay, ain’t he?” Deena said.

I pulled up some of the confidence that Mom instilled in me. “He’ll be okay. They can fix just about everything these days.”

The nurse stuck her head out. “He’s good now.”

We went back in. Doctor showed back up. “We’re keeping him. We’ll move ‘im onto a ward where we can monitor him and wait until we see what the tests show us.”

We followed him as an orderly pushed him through the halls, ending up somewhere in the bowels of the hospital.

They put him in a room, a ward nurse came in, introduced herself, took his vitals, left.

Me and Deena. And Bill.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna do this, Deena...”

“I can watch him for a while. You go get the house secured, come back...”

“I can drive. What about you?”

“Uh, we have friends. I could even call Mom if I need to...”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t want ‘er disconnecting his IV or something...”

“Haley,” she squeaked. “Mom wouldn’t...”

“And she sees that cath bag, she’s liable to think you saw your dad’s pee-pee...”

“Uh, we got the Johnsons and the Gleasons and the LeBlancs.”

“We need to text ‘em, let ‘em know what’s up.”

“I’ll post to the community bulletin board, too,” Deena said.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a hour or so.”

“I’ll be right here.”

I kissed Bill on his forehead, feeling the heat. Deena got one on the cheek. I left. Long walk up the halls and into the parking lot, then the drive home.

On the phone. “Mom?”

“Y’all took ‘im?”

“Like you said. They’re keeping ‘im. Unconscious. Running tests.”

“He’ll be okay, baby. They can fix just about everything.”

“Scary, Mom. He’s my everything, you know...”

“I’ve known that for a long time. Longer than you probably think...”

“I was trying not to show it.”

“Darlin’, you showed me lots of things. I can learn too, you know ... Like smokin’. Me ‘n’ Steve’ll get over it if we don’t kill each other...”

“Good for you, Mom. Really good.”

Little Stevie tells me... “They’re serious. But you gotta watch what you say. Mom HOLLERED at me. She hollered at Dad...”

“You just be understanding, Stevie...” He’s actually turning out to be a pretty decent kid.

“I’m gonna try...”

That was a week ago. It’s cute. I’ll hear a knock on the door, open it, and let my little brother in. He knows we’re good for a snack or something. I don’t mind it at all. Family, you know.

Today. I know that house’s empty and because I know why it’s empty, part of me is empty too.

‘You’ve signed on as a wife,’ I tell myself. ‘Time to set up and run the plan.’

We keep a tidy house. My foray into domesticity today was mostly putting Saturday’s worst clothes into the washer and making a part load-out of the dishwasher. Then I sat down with my laptop, did a ‘shotgun’ update to everyone – Bill’s co-workers and family.

And I put together a bag of things for him and for me and Deena. If he’s in the hospital, one of us will be there with him. The inconvenient part is that I can drive. Deena can’t.

Walked out of the house, looked next door. Dammit, Haley. You’re running down your list of resources and you forgot your mom?!?

I tossed the bags into the car and walked across the lawn to Mom’s front door. Knocked. Got let in. Smiled.

They really ARE trying. The house no longer reeks of stale cigarettes. I notice Mom’s a bit rounder, though. Just hoping she doesn’t decide that lung cancer is less risky than obesity.

“What’d they say?”

“Nothing solid yet,” I sighed. “Deena’s there with ‘im. I came back to get stuff. We’ll take turns...”

Mom beat me to it. “Deena can’t drive. You just tell me when we need to shuttle ‘er...”

“Might do that, Mom. You’re on my list...”

“Good. That’s what family’s for, baby. You just tell me what you need.”

I hugged her. “Mom, you’ve been giving me what I need all my life.”

Saying things like that to your mom will get your stuffings hugged out.

“Where’s Stevie?”

“Spent the night with school friends.”

“Mom, he’s in the first grade...”

“I know. And me ‘n’ Steve had a nice dinner out and...”

“Mooo-ooommmm!”

“Yeah, uh-huh. Like YOU don’t like it...”

“I am my mother’s daughter...”

“Your mother has a high school diploma and a nursing certificate. You – you’re all over college. I can’t take credit for that part.”

I smiled, thinking of my half-sister Deena and the fact that Mom’d ... well, me ‘n’ Deena – same dad, okay? But we won’t talk about that. Ever. And yes, almost seventeen years ago my mom was not the frumpy, frizzed visage she is today. I’ve seen pictures. I look somewhat like that although I didn’t apparently inherit her bustline.

I’m back in the car when I get a call from Nina.

“Dan did that to me early in our relationship,” she said. “His was strep throat. Scared me. Made me decide that HE was MY responsibility. We got married after he recovered.”

“He did?”

“Yep! He was supposed to meet me at the park. Missed it. I called ‘im. It’s been a solid ‘us’ ever since.”

“Wow! Just like that.”

“How it works sometimes. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I got the house under control. Deena’s there with ‘im right now. I’m heading there. Might need somebody to transport Deena.”

“I’m sure Dan’ll come up there to check on ‘im if that’s okay. If Deena needs, just call us.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“No problem. ‘S what friends are for.”

Two miles further down the road – Carlita.

“I have Brindy beside me. We’re on campus today. Is there anything?”

I thought about telling her that her sweet tamales were absolutely essential to Bill’s recovery, but strayed on the side of truth. The tamales ARE good, though.

“We’re covering it.”

“How long will he be there?” Brindy asked.

“No idea. When I left, they didn’t know what he had. Just fever and that bad stomach thing early this morning...”

“Oh...”

“As soon as I know, I’ll pass it on.”

“Yes,” Carlita said. “Your friends anxiously await details of your husband’s bowel function.”

“I’ll have videos on YouTube,” I laughed.

“At least you can still laugh,” Brindy said.

“We’ll get over this,” I assured her.

“If there’s anything we can do, just tell us,” my forest pixie friend reassured me.

“We will. Thanks, sister.”

Hospital parking. Shouldered two bags. Made my way through the maze of ‘new construction’ and ‘slightly less new’ and finally into the original halls, the layout having been explained to me by Mom when she was still working as a nurse, before Steve made his appearance.

The door was half-open. I went in.

“Hi, honey. Hi, Sis,” I said.

Bill looked so tired. Drained. And not that same ‘drained’ that I’d seen after he and I and Deena’d had a particularly athletic romp.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I was wrung out,” he said.

I kissed his cheek. Fever was noticeably down.

“I don’t mind you being wrung out, but I want it to be MY fault.”

“Believe me, I’d rather the way you do it much better.”

“Me too, baby ... You’re better, though.”

“Doctor’s supposed to be here later. Maybe we can find out what’s going on.”

“What happens next?”

“After this?” Bill said. “I dunno. I suppose that if I’m feeling better and there’s nothing wrong, they let me go home.”

‘Nothing wrong’? We’re not quite there. Fever’s not 103, but it’s still over a hundred. Nurse came in. “Mister Simon, we’re adding some juice to your IV.”