I blink my eyes at the continuous smack on my face and begin swatting at whatever keeps hitting me.
“Mama.”
A little voice starts to break through my dreams, but I’m still trying to get the smacking to stop.
“Mama,” the voice says more forcefully, and I finally wake up enough to realize what’s happening. Sutton is patting my face. In the middle of the night. Why is Sutton patting my face in the middle of the night?
Peeling my eyes open, I rub the heel of my hands in my eyes to clear out the sleep.
“What’s going on, baby girl?”
I reach over and just as I realize how warm she is, she hiccups a small sob.
“I no feel good, Mama.”
Sitting straight up, I grab my daughter. She’s burning up.
Fully awake now, I pick her up and race to the kitchen, setting her on the counter before rifling through the cabinet.
“Come on, come on,” I grumble until I finally find what I’m looking for. “Ah ha!”
Popping the thermometer under her arm, I smooth down Sutton’s hair as she leans against me, her little cheeks bright red.
“Does your tummy hurt?” She moves her head back and forth against my chest. “Does your head hurt?” That gets me a nod.
I snatch a sippy cup out of the cabinet, careful not to jostle her too much as I fill it and screw the lid on tight. She takes it from me and begins drinking but quickly pushes it away, a small grimace on her face like it tasted rotten. It’s then I notice her nose is running, too.
I only have time to wipe her face off before the thermometer finally beeps.
103.4.
Quickly I add the degree and realize how high her fever actually is.
Shit. I’ve got to get some medicine in her and fast.
I find the last of our baby Motrin and suck it into the syringe we got at the doctor’s office a couple years ago. There’s not enough medicine to make a full dose, but it’s at least a start until one of us can get to the store.
“Go ahead and take this baby.” She sucks it down and licks her lips. She’s so pale and her eyes seem dull. I’ve got to get this fever down fast.
Scooping her up in my arms, we head toward the bathroom. “Come on baby, let’s get you a quick bath.”
“No Mama.” Sutton starts to cry, her little head laying limp against my shoulder.
“I know baby, but it’ll make you feel better.”
Setting her on the floor, I run the bath water a little warmer than lukewarm. I need to get this fever down, but I don’t want to shock her system, either.
Sutton continues to cry, her wails getting louder when I strip her and put her in the bath.
“It’s cold, Mama,” she cries, breaking my heart right in two.
“I’m so sorry, baby. We’ve got to get your fever down. We’ll just be in here for a few minutes.”
I use a washcloth to run cool water over her back and neck as she shivers. I can only imagine how miserable she is. If there was any way I could change places with her I would.
Having woken her up, Ellie stumbles in, wiping at her eyes from the brightness. “What’s going on?”
“She’s got a really high fever, Ellie.”
I can hear the panic in my voice. Apparently ,Ellie can too, because she’s suddenly wide awake, too.
“How high?”
“Over 104.”
Sutton begins to cough. It’s deep, too deep, sounding like it’s coming from the bottom of her lungs. She almost sounds like a seal except for a small wheezing noise when she breathes in. My skin prickles. Something is very wrong.
“Lacy, I don’t like the sound of that,” Ellie warns.
“Neither do I.”
“I think you need to go to the ER.”
I look up at her, panic filling my whole body. “I can’t afford that.”
“She’s got Medicaid.”
“No, don’t you remember? That signature page got lost in the mail, so they denied her and I had to start over. They haven’t processed the new paperwork yet.”
“Shit.”
I turn back to Sutton when she coughs again, her whole body shaking from the force of it.
“I don’t think you have a choice, Lacy,” Ellie presses. “She doesn’t look good.”
My brain is spinning. I can’t seem to figure out how to make a decision. If I take her and it’s just a cold, I’m out hundreds of dollars I don’t have. If I don’t take her and it’s serious, she could die.
“What do I do, Ellie? I can’t… you have to decide for me. My brain can’t figure this out.”
“I know. You’re in panic mode. Go to the twenty-four-hour emergency clinic. You know the one? By Piggly Wiggly?”
“I don’t know when we’ll be back and you have to work tomorrow.”
“I’ll call in if I have to. Or you’ll be back before I leave. It doesn’t matter. Take her.”
“Ellie,” I whisper. “I’m so scared about the money. What if it’s nothing and then we can’t cover rent because of a virus?”
“Lacy,” she puts her hands on my shoulders, knowing where my brain is at. She’s been there, too. “I know you are. We’ve lived like this for a long time. But Tucker is here now. It’s time he stepped up.”
“Tucker.” I close my eyes and drop my chin to my chest. “I forgot about Tucker.”
“You need to call him. Like now.”
She makes sense. He’s Sutton’s father and this is serious. I need to call him. But…
“Wait, isn’t he on a road trip? Or is that next week? I don’t know if he’s in town.”
“If he’s gone, he’d still want to know. He can fly back if he needs to.”
I nod, the entire situation feeling like I’m dreaming and not all at the same time. It’s so surreal. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
“Get her out of the bath and get her dressed. I’ll get a bag with her stuff ready.”
Feeling better now that Ellie has helped me come up with a plan, I quickly dry my daughter off, her poor body still radiating heat. Ellie helps me get her to the car and into her car seat.
Thankfully, traffic is light at this time of night so I’m able to get on the road within seconds. As soon as I hit a stop light, I open the phone and click on Tucker’s name, putting it on speaker since I can’t get a Bluetooth connection in my car.
It rings three times and I’m about to curse under my breath about not being able to reach him when I hear a groggy, “Hello? Lacy?”
“Tucker.” His name comes out sounding like a gasp.
“What’s wrong.” The groggy disappears immediately. “Lacy, what’s going on.”
“Sutton is sick. Really sick. I need you to meet me at the emergency clinic.”
I hear sheets and blankets rustling around and the sounds of him jumping out of bed.
“I’m on my way.”