“It could have started with a cold,” the doctor says. “But it’s an ear infection now.”
Taz looks at her. “What do I do?”
She writes, asks for their pharmacy. He tells her he doesn’t have one. “Not really pharmacy people,” he says.
“Well, you are now,” she says. “You’re a parent. Albertsons?” she asks.
“Eastgate, I suppose.”
He goes and picks up the antibiotics, staggered by the price. The baby Tylenol. The baby Advil.
The night starts. Shrieking like he’s never heard. Clawing at her ear, the whole side of her head. He sleeps, he thinks, an hour. Maybe not that much. None of it in a row.
He calls Elmo so early he’s afraid he’ll wake her. If he does, she lies.
“She’s sick,” he says. “Ear infection. We’ve been up all night.”
“That blows.”
“Huge,” he says. “So, day off for you. I couldn’t work on a dare.”
She drops soup off on her way to school. Wakes them both on the couch. She swears. Apologizes. Tiptoes away.
Taz drifts off, seeing her going. Up on her toes.
The next morning he can barely get up. The doctor. Again. A sinus infection. “Probably not related, but . . .”
More antibiotics.
Elmo texts. Asks him to let her know when she won’t be waking anyone up.
The room swims with his fever. He floats above it, in the rocker, the baby in his lap. The lines in the corner, wall meeting wall meeting ceiling, won’t line up. Drift apart. She screams, pulls at her ear, wearing down, eventually, to whimpering exhaustion. He keeps up the Advil-Tylenol rotation, keeps her fever down. Does the same for himself. He writes it all out. Who. Which. When. No way he’d remember any other way.
Getting up the next time she wakes, he walks right out of the bedroom. Takes the wrong turn getting out of bed. Stands floating in the living room, wondering why. Hears her cry ratcheting up. Follows after it.
When Elmo comes over, she leads him straight to the bed she thinks is his. The big one. His and Marnie’s. She pulls up the sheet, pushes him down. “I’ve got her,” she says. “She’ll be fine. You, though. You look like you’re on your way out.”
He’s on fire. Burning up. She gets a wet cloth for his head. Double-doses him with ibuprofens.
As she leaves the bedroom, he calls her Marnie.