Emelie
“How’s his fever?” Palmer asked in a hushed tone as she peeked her head inside my room.
“It’s down for now,” I replied as I tried to reposition my pillow behind my back. I’d been lying in the same position for close to two hours, holding Ethan against my chest. He wore only a diaper as I’d stripped him when his fever spiked about two in the morning. He felt like a furnace against me but refused to sleep any other place. “This is the first time he’s slept longer than five minutes.”
“Why don’t you let me hold him so that you can have a break?”
“No,” I said, smoothing back his wild blond locks that were plastered to his forehead. “I’m okay.”
“You look like shit.” Palmer smiled, and I knew it was just her way of attempting to make me do the same.
“So do you, but I’ve been up all night with a sick toddler. What’s your excuse?” Did I mention how much I loved this girl? She kept me sane on most days. She was loyal and accepting.
“When should the antibiotics start kicking in?”
“Any time,” I whispered. A double ear infection is torture but in a toddler who was also suffering from a runny nose and horrible cough, it was nothing short of hell. “We’re going on day two of the meds and day four of the sickness, something has to give soon, right?”
Just then Ethan began to stir and lifted his head, looking up at me with his big sleepy eyes. I was just about to say good morning when I was showered in vomit from my neck down, leaving me no choice other than to close my eyes and mouth and accept it.
When I felt like I was finally safe, I peeked to find Ethan looking at me, with his lip puckered sadly. “It’s okay, buddy.” I tried not to gag, but with each second that passed the reaction grew harder to avoid. “Palmer…” I didn’t have to say anything more. She moved in and snatched Ethan, not caring that his little legs bore the evidence of his sickness.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up, little man,” she told Ethan with a bright smile. “Mommy’s okay but she sure does stink.” I heard my son giggle as they exited my bedroom towards the kitchen sink. As I looked down at myself, I was suddenly overwhelmed. I took in a deep breath, forgetting to breathe only through my mouth, and immediately regretted it. I covered my nose and carefully began removing my tank top and shorts. Once I was somewhat puke free, I gathered my sheets and carried them to the clothes basket in the corner. Thank goodness all he’d had was liquids over the last forty-eight hours.
I made my way to the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and crawled beneath the sprayer. The water felt amazing, making me believe I was somewhat human again. I tried to fight the urge to cry, because being a whiney ass wasn’t gonna fix anything. This was my life, and I wouldn’t change the fact that I had Ethan—absolutely not. He was my light, my reason to smile, and work hard every single day. However, maybe I would have chosen to wait until after I was settled and older.
Climbing out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel. I exited the bathroom and heard Ethan’s giggle, which instantly brought a much-needed smile to my face.
Once dressed and my hair wadded up in a wild bun, I grabbed the basket in the corner and walked out to the living room. “Do you mind keeping an eye on him for a couple hours? I need to get his sheets, also my own wash, and the numerous outfits he’s violated over the last couple days.” I wrinkled my nose, remembering the continuous need to hand rinse multiple pairs of pajamas.
“Yes, please.” Palmer looked at the basket repulsively. “We need more Pedialite and Popsicles too.”
“Are the Popsicles for him or you?” My best friend was a big kid herself.
“Ethan, of course.” She tucked him in closer to her chest as he stared ahead at the cartoons playing on the television. “But he says to get the rocket red, white, and blue ones this time. Those are his favorite.”
I exited the apartment, shaking my head. When I reached my car, I realized I was wearing my old grungy high school shirt I’d worn when I played soccer. It was so worn that the lettering was faded. Paired with my black yoga pants and flip flops, I looked like a runway model for sure.
Flipping down the visor, I attempted to clean away the smeared mascara beneath my eyes and, after a few attempts, only managed to irritate myself. I drove the four blocks to the laundromat, gathered my things, and entered the already full building.
Saturdays and Sundays were like a madhouse there, but I had no other choice. I refused to sleep on a bare mattress or let Ethan do the same.
I’d separated my items into three washers, reached inside my bag, and realized I’d forgotten my wallet at home. “Damn it,” I said in an irritated whisper. Spinning around, fully intending to go search beneath all the seats in my car, I plowed into the hard chest of a man.
I didn’t have to look up to know what man, either. I would recognize that cologne anywhere.
“No Ethan today?”
I stepped back, and when I bumped into the washer I knew I was cornered. Exhaling slowly, I looked up and that feeling I always got whenever he looked at me returned. That racing heart, the shaking hands, it was all there.
“He’s at home,” I stated, and I could see the questions in his eyes. “With my best friend and roommate.”
“That’s too bad,” he added, still keeping his body close to mine. “I loaded some new songs on my iPod.”
“Oh yeah?” I smiled up at him.
“Yep, some that will for sure corrupt his little mind.”
“Nice.” I knew he was playing.
“I had no idea there were so many nursery rhymes available on iTunes.” He shrugged. “But then I’ve never actually had a need for them before.”
“And you have a need for them now?”
“Uh, yeah.” He wrinkled up his forehead. “My buddy likes to jam out. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t have the right kind of tunes for him? Friendship is all about compromise, you know, and I’m willing to rock out with Elmo if it pleases my boy.”
I stared up at him, unable to speak. Who the hell was this guy? How could I have been so unbelievably wrong? There had to be a catch, didn’t there?
“By the way,” he leaned in closer and whispered near my ear, “I’m loving the look.”
“Are you seriously dissing my gear?” I faked offense.
“Nope,” he stated without pause. “I gotta admit, Emelie, you look good in just about anything.”
“Cheesy,” I said, though I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“Maybe.” He shrugged, finally stepping back and giving me some space. “I brought you coffee on Friday, but you weren’t in class. I gave it to the chick that sits next to you and now I regret it.”
“Why?”
“Because she spent the entire class smiling over her shoulder at me, and when I left the building I had four texts messages from my brothers asking me since when did I have a girlfriend.”
“You poor thing.” I laughed.
“She changed her status to ‘in a relationship with Clayton Powell’ and tweeted that we were in love.”
“Seriously?” I tried to picture what girl he was referring to.
“No.” He chuckled and stepped back to stand clear of my hand as it swooped out to push him away. “But it sure was fun getting a rise out of you.”
“Why would I care if some girl was stalking you?” I backpedaled as I looked away from him. Watching him look at me with that sultry look of his was too much.
“Because you like me,” he said confidently, “even though you try so damned hard to act like you don’t.”
“You’re all right.” I shrugged as I turned back around to face the washers and reached into my pocket again like by some miracle the quarters I needed would appear.
“Forget something?” Clayton asked, stepping up closer behind me.
“I forgot my wallet at home.” I hung my head. The combination of my sleepless night, being puked on, and now this, I just wanted to crawl back into bed and forget the last twenty-four hours.
The sound of change being jingled around made me look back just as Clayton reached past me and started placing quarters into the slots of the washers.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping a friend out,” he insisted.
“But—”
“It’s just quarters, Emelie.” His body was pressed in firmly behind mine and instead of arguing with him, I concentrated on my breathing. One by one he moved along and once the quarters were all in place, he started the machines. “There, now you can sit down and relax, with a friend.”
I finally turned back around and crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here so early on a Saturday morning anyway? Don’t you frat boys usually sleep all day after recovering from partying all night?”
“I’ll have you know I was in bed just after midnight, and up at seven a.m.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.” I moved toward the chairs and sat in the first one, looking up at him and found him smiling back at me playfully. “So, coming to the laundromat was your first thought?"
“No.” He shook his head and laughed. “That was unplanned.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Ever had shaving cream put in your hand and then have someone tickle your nose?” The way he pursed his lips while awaiting my response was distracting. Realizing that I had yet to respond, I finally shook my head and he continued. “I woke up with Corbin, my brother, on one side of my bed and Jay, one of my frat brothers, on the other. They were each holding a can of shaving cream. Let’s just say that I got hosed.”
“They just sprayed you with shaving cream for no reason?”
“I never said they didn’t have a reason.” He chuckled as he hung his head for a minute before looking back up at me. “I may have waited for them to pass out last night and moved them both to the couch, side by side, well, actually face to face.” He again pursed his lips almost as if he was extremely pleased with himself. “And then I Saran wrapped them in place, just before I set up a camera to live feed the whole thing. Oh, and they were both stripped down to their boxers.”
“That’s awful,” I said, even though I was smiling as I pictured the very thing he was explaining.
“Most of it was Blake’s idea,” he defended himself. “My boy’s girlfriend, the one that told me what coffee to bring you. That girl is a rebel and it’s sometimes scary. You either need to be on her side, or never fall asleep in the same house as her. It will not end well. Believe me I know. You’ll wake up glued to something, which leads you on a trip to the ER.”
“If I woke up Saran wrapped to a couch, you better bet I’d pay you back.” I shook my head as I laughed at him. “And it would definitely be something a hell of a lot worse than shaving cream. I’d shave your head instead.”
“Now you sound like Blake for sure.”
“And I’ll say it again, I like that woman and I don’t even know who she is.”