Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
T he next day, Iris was in the middle of leading the class in savasana and avoiding thoughts about waking up in Archer’s bed when her phone started vibrating.
‘Let your arms lay at your side,’ she said in her calm, yogi voice while she glanced at the screen. ‘Feel the floor rise up to meet you.’
It was Olive’s school. That couldn’t be good, right? Schools don’t call to just let you know everything was going great.
Iris grabbed her phone and tiptoed toward the door of the yoga studio. She’d been teaching here for nearly a year, one of her longer-held jobs, actually, and she knew where all the creaky floorboards were. She avoided them as she spoke softly to her students.
‘Acknowledge thoughts as they come and let them drift by like clouds in the sky…’ she trailed off as she stepped out into the hallway, pausing next to the giant gold buddha statue.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, is this Ms. Fraser?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘Ms. Fraser, Olive is sick. She has a fever of one-hundred and one. You’ll have to come pick her up.’
‘Oh … uh…’ Iris glanced back in the little window in the door. Her class was still lying obediently in the dark with their eyes closed. Luckily, this class was nearly over but she was supposed to teach one more this morning.
‘I have to come pick her up like right now?’
The nurse made a noise that Iris was sure was judgmental. ‘Yes, Ms. Fraser. Unless I should call her father instead?’ They’d listed Iris first on the emergency contact forms, since taking care of Olive was her day job and all.
‘No, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right there.’
‘Very good. Thank you.’
Iris opened her mouth to thank her back, but she’d already hung up. It occurred to her that being a school nurse was up there with school bus driver as possibly one of the hardest jobs in the world, so she decided not to be insulted by the hasty hang up.
She glanced at the buddha. ‘Well, I guess I have to go figure out how to take care of a sick kid. Wish me luck.’ She snuck back into the class and brought her students out of their relaxed state as quickly and gently as she could.
‘Okay, and bring your senses back to the room. Blink your eyes open and go live your life. See you next week!’ Okay, so maybe not that gently, but she had to get out of here. That school nurse sounded serious, and Iris was worried she’d get in trouble if she was late. In trouble with whom, she wasn’t really sure, but she didn’t really want to find out.
Half the class was still blearily sitting up as she skipped out of the room. On her way out to the car she sent a quick message to one of the other teachers from the studio, Tara, to see if she could pick up her next class. She got a quick ‘Sure!’ in response so that was one issue taken care of.
Iris dialed Bex and put her on speaker as she got into her car.
‘Hey, what’s up. Shouldn’t you be teaching?’
‘I was,’ Iris responded as she pulled out of the small parking lot behind the yoga studio. ‘But Olive got sick. I need to pick her up at school.’
‘Oh, so why are you calling me?’
‘I don’t know! I thought you might have some ideas on what I’m supposed to do with a sick child.’
Bex snorted. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’
‘I don’t know! Because I’m panicking a little bit.’
‘Just put on The Price is Right and make her drink juice. That’s what my mom used to do.’
‘Okay, yeah. That makes sense. Thanks.’
‘Are you regretting this nannying gig now?’
Iris pulled into a parking spot in the front of the school. ‘Not yet, but ask me in twenty four hours.’
‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks.’
Iris had to ring the bell and get carded by the office assistant before she was allowed through the locked doors. She pushed all the reasons why this was the state of American elementary schools out of her mind. One crisis at a time, and a kid with a fever felt slightly more manageable than the gun lobby.
She walked down the colorful hallway to the nurse’s office. Elementary schools still smelled the same, at least. Some combination of peanut butter and crayons. A teacher with a line of twenty, sweaty kids filed out of the gym and walked past her. Iris waved to the little girl at the back of the line who kept falling behind because she was too busy trying not to step on the cracks between the floor tiles. She smiled at Iris with a gap-toothed grin.
The nurse, as expected, was a frazzled older woman who looked very relieved that Iris had shown up. Three other kids sat lined up on chairs waiting for their ride out of there.
‘Ready to blow this pop stand, Olive?’
Olive just looked at her with a glassy-eyed expression that did nothing to ease the worry in Iris’s gut.
‘Come on, kid.’ Iris took her backpack for her and led Olive out the door.
‘She can’t come back until she’s twenty-four hours fever-free!’ The nurse called after her.
‘Hear that, Olive? Twenty-four hours with no school! Lucky you.’
Olive just looked at her and coughed pitifully. Yikes. Okay, time to get her home and cozy on the couch. That was what Iris would want if she was sick. To be in her jammies in front of the television with a cup of tea. Can kids drink tea? Hmm, she should google that. She was going to have to google a lot of things.
* * *
Archer’s phone started blowing up right as the lunch rush started.
‘Chef, your phone is ringing.’
‘Yes, I hear it, Cyrus.’
‘Maybe you should answer it.’
Archer sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. ‘And then who is going to plate all this food.’
Cyrus shrugged. ‘Might be something about your daughter.’
Shit . Jesus, why hadn’t that even occurred to him? The phone stopped and then started again and now Archer was convinced something was very wrong with his daughter. His daughter who he'd momentarily forgotten existed. He sucked.
He strode over to where his coat was hanging in the back office and grabbed the phone from his pocket.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as soon as he saw Iris’s number and hit answer call.
‘Olive’s sick.’
Sweat dripped down his back, dread dropping like a stone in his gut.
‘What do you mean sick? How sick? Is she okay?’ With each question he felt his anxiety increasing. He didn’t know how to have a sick child. He barely knew how to have a well child.
‘I don’t know, the nurse called, and I had to pick her up from school and I thought we would just get in our jammies and rest and drink juice, but she’s really hot and listless and the internet says we need kids Tylenol but we don’t have any and I don’t know what to do and I’m sorry and I know this is my job and…’
‘Iris, breathe.’ Somehow her panic forced him out of his own. At least one grown-up should not be freaking out at a time, right? That seemed integral to the process of raising a kid.
‘I’m sure she’s going to be fine,’ he went on. ‘Kids, get sick all the time.’ That was true, wasn’t it? Kids were gross and filled with germs. He was pretty sure this was all completely normal, even though it felt like the fire alarm was going off in his head.
‘I guess.’ Iris’s voice was small and scared and another jolt of worry shot through him.
‘I’m coming home. I’ll stop at the store and get the fever reducer, okay?’
‘Okay, thank you. I’m really sorry.’
‘Stop apologizing. It’s my fault. I should have stocked the house with all this stuff. I’ll be there as quickly as I can, okay?’
‘Okay.’
As soon as he’d disconnected with Iris, he strode back out into the kitchen. The new guy, Holden, had already stepped up to Cyrus’s position at the grill and Cyrus was plating the dishes.
‘Don’t worry, chef,’ Jess said, patting his arm before loading her tray with the meals. ‘We got this. Go take care of Olive.’
Good to know that they could hear everything he said in the office, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He was just happy he could leave and be certain the diner would be fine without him. It had been existing without him for years, after all. And what a liberating thought that was.
‘Thanks, everyone. See you tomorrow.’
By the time Archer made it home, with bags filled with canned soup, kids Tylenol, saline nasal spray, all-natural honey lollipops, a thermometer you apparently put under the kid’s armpit and one for her mouth because he didn’t trust armpit temperatures, a new Pumpkin Spice coloring book in case she was bored, a tub of Vicks VapoRub, and bubble-gum flavored cough syrup, he was a tangled knot of worry.
But he was a dad now and if his own amazing father had taught him one thing, it was that dads kept their shit together in times of crisis.
He opened the door quietly, in case Olive had fallen asleep, but Iris was there to meet him before he was even over the threshold.
‘You’re here,’ she said, and her whole body sagged in relief. And it did something to him, this relief, this idea that he was here and now things would be better, that he would help. Olive needed him and Iris needed him, and it was different than being needed at work. It was different than being the boss, than running a tight ship, than making sure everything went perfectly. Here, they just needed him .
‘I’m here. How’s Olive?’
Iris glanced back toward the couch where Olive’s face was barely peeking out from a pile of blankets. ‘She says she feels cold, but her skin is burning hot and the internet is filled with a lot of strong opinions about what we should do.’ Iris’s usual playfulness was gone. There was no mischief in her eyes, no smile playing around her lips. She was worried. Worried about his kid. And that did something to him, too, but he didn’t have time to explore that right now.
Instead, he grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to his.
‘It’s going to be fine, okay? We’ll figure this out. Together.’
‘Together,’ Iris echoed and the little crease of worry between her brows softened. And he knew they were talking about getting Olive healthy again, but he found himself wishing the together applied to more .
He cleared his throat, realizing he still had his hand on Iris’s face. He dropped it and they both snapped out of the moment.
‘Okay, right. First things first.’ He walked over to the couch and sat gingerly on the edge. He put the back of his hand on Olive’s forehead. She was alarmingly hot. No wonder Iris was freaking out. ‘Hey Olive, I’m going to take your temperature, okay?’
‘My eyeballs hurt,’ she said.
He glanced up at where Iris was hovering nearby. ‘Her eyeballs hurt?’
Iris shrugged. ‘She keeps saying that. I thought maybe she meant like a headache behind her eyes?’
‘Anything else hurt, bud?’
‘My neck feels scratchy.’
‘Your neck? You mean your throat?’
Olive just looked at him with glassy eyes. Jesus, how were you supposed to help a person who didn’t even know their own body parts?
‘Let’s just take your temp.’ He pulled out the armpit thermometer and tucked it under her arm while Iris washed the oral thermometer. They tried both and both declared Olive had a fever.
‘One-oh-three point eight! That’s really bad, right?’ Iris hissed as they stared at the tiny digital screen.
‘Google says high temperatures are more common in children than adults,’ he said, glancing back at his phone. ‘Let’s give her the Tylenol. We can also do a cool compress on her forehead. Has she been drinking fluids?’ he asked as Iris hurried to the kitchen to wet a washcloth.
‘Sort of. She didn’t really want anything.’
‘Hey, Olive,’ Archer said, sitting down beside her again. ‘You need to have some medicine to help you feel better. And some juice, too, okay?’ He managed to get her upright enough to drink down the meds and a mouthful of orange juice. ‘You’ll feel better soon, kid,’ he told her, brushing her hair from her face. She looked so small and pitiful, and it physically hurt to see her like that. He hated it. And he hated that he couldn’t just make this go away for her.
He never knew that so much of being a parent was just feeling helpless in the face of your kid’s struggles.
‘Sit with me?’ Olive asked.
‘Yeah, of course I will.’ He moved some pillows around and Olive curled up with her head in his lap. He rubbed slow circles on her back, hoping he was at least comforting her. Hoping it was enough.
When he looked up, Iris was staring at him, a soft smile on her face. She quickly schooled her features, but it was too late. Archer had seen the way she was looking at him. No, not at him, at him and his daughter, like maybe she had more than professional feelings for both of them.
And Archer found himself hoping that she did.