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“Then you need to call the paramedics and get that baby to the hospital.”
Nick looms in my vision, and I shoo him away. Yeah, big guy, I get it — no outsiders.
“Can’t do that, Maggie. It’s complicated. I need you to help me.”
“I’m not a doctor, Emily.”
“But you were a nurse practitioner before you became a pharmacist, right?” I say. I know the answer to the question, just as I know the answers to a lot of questions about Maggie, like how her favorite snacks are Fritos, or how she takes her coffee, or how her first marriage ended because her husband cheated on her with her best friend’s brother. And I know how, as capable and skilled as Maggie is, she’s also incredibly cautious, and I don’t have time for that right now — Maggie needs a push. A big one. “Maggie, you can either help me or you can accept the fact that this baby is going to die, and it’s going to be at least partly your fault.”
“Emily!”
I shake my head. “Sorry, Mags, but that’s the truth. Will you help me or not?”
“I’ll help. Tell me the baby’s symptoms.”
“Elevated heart rate, mild fever, gray complexion, growing rash…”
“Where is the rash? How big is it?”
I pause, check the baby. “It’s at the base of the tummy. I can’t tell you the full extent. The diaper is in the way.”
“Remove the diaper. I need to know the full scope of the rash.”
I grab the diaper, then frown. It’s duct-taped on. What the hell? “Just a second. It’s going to take a lot of work. It’s stuck on.”
“It’s stuck on? Emily, what the heck is happening there?”
“Someone duct taped it on. With a ton of duct tape,” I say, then give Nick a look. What the hell, man?
“It kept slipping off, and I left the damn pins at your fucking drug store,” Nick hisses, quiet enough that I can barely hear him. “Besides, duct tape is a tool, and it’s meant to accomplish a purpose: keeping things in place.”
“Emily, I hear whispering. A man’s voice. Is that the father? Is there someone helping you?” Maggie says. “If they’re duct taping the baby, we may have bigger problems than just an allergic reaction.”
As Maggie talks, I work my fingers at the duct tape, trying to remove the diaper. There’s so much of it, though, I doubt I’ll ever get it open.
“We have bigger problems, Maggie. I can’t get the diaper off.”
Suddenly, Nick extends his free hand toward me, and I see that he’s holding a knife. “Use this.”
I glare at him. “I will not take a knife to your baby.”
Maggie raises her voice over the phone. “Emily, I trust you not to let anyone stab that baby.”
“I didn’t tell her to stab it,” Nick snaps. “I told her to use a perfectly reasonable tool — a knife — to cut the diaper off, since she seems to be incapable of removing the diaper unaided.”
“What kind of father are you, sir?” Maggie says, loud enough that she might as well be on speakerphone.
“I’m doing the best that I can,” he retorts. “Lay the fuck off, or the diaper won’t be the only thing I use a knife on tonight.”
“Are you threatening to kill me? All because I questioned the fact that you’re duct taping your baby like a bank hostage?”
“If you do your job and help Charlie, it just stays a threat. If you keep bitching me out, then that threat becomes a promise.”
“Did you just call me a bitch, you fucking asshole?”
“If the stethoscope fits.”
Red colors my sight and I stand up, cock my hand back, and then slap Nick across the face. He falls into stunned silence. Then I bring my phone close to my mouth, close enough that Maggie can hear that I’m utterly serious. “Both of you need to stop fighting or else this baby is going to die. Get over yourselves, shut up, and behave!” Then I take the ludicrously large knife, and working carefully, cut the diaper off little Charlie. “Maggie, the rash extends from the baby’s lower tummy to about an inch down his thigh on each side.”
