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Since then she’d seared my soul when she became my everything, and my heart ached because I’d wanted for nothing more in that moment than to lie down beside her and try to comfort her. However, the practicalities were that Colby had to be fed and organized for school, so I reluctantly went with her wishes and left her to do my duty to him instead.
After eating, I checked in on Billie and she was still asleep. Leaving her undisturbed, Colby and I sat talking baseball and watched a couple of old tapes I’d saved from my baseball days about technique, before I asked him to take a bath and pack his bag for school for the next day. After I’d ordered takeout and we had eaten again, I sent him to bed with a book.
I’d been about to wake Billie with a cup of hot tea and honey when a text arrived from James.
James: I know you are due back today. Can we meet up? It’s urgent.
Before the wedding, James had been concerned about our father’s workload, and as I knew he worked with him I was expecting something of this nature, so I called him.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, as I tried hard to fight the ache that settled in my stomach from the history we had.
“Where are you?” he asked, sounding anxious.
“At home, why?”
“Shit,” he said under his breath. “I wanted to meet you before you went home.”
I snickered. “Then you missed me, because I’m here already. What’s wrong?”
“I really need to see you.”
“What’s so important.”
He huffed and felt a sense of anguish in his response. “You’ll understand when I see you,” he replied in a clipped, restrained tone.
“Sorry, I can’t. Billie’s got food poisoning.” As soon as I said this, he changed tack.
“Christ, is she okay?”
“No, but she will be. I’m here now.”
“Good, she missed you.” I was tempted to ask how he had formed his opinion, but I held it back. The unsaid words stuck in my chest.
“I know,” I agreed. “I can meet you tomorrow after I drop Colby at school,” I offered.
“Okay, I’ll come over to your place, I’d rather we had some privacy for this,” he replied, making me wonder what the hell was wrong, but nothing was more important than Billie, so I let it slide.
“All right, I’ll see you here at 9:30 a.m.” We still weren’t at the stage of small talk so I hung up and checked on Colby before going back to check on my wife.
Softly opening the door, I’d expected to see Billie asleep but instead found her hugging the toilet bowl again. “Fuck, baby, I think we should call the doctor.”
“I think you’re right. It’s been more than twenty-four hours now and there’s no sign of this improving. I woke up thirsty and had a few sips of water and this happened. The cramps in my lower belly aren’t getting any better either.”
Once I had gotten her cleaned up and settled her back in bed, I called a doctor, demanding a home visit. By the time our family doctor arrived, Colby was asleep and I took him in to see Billie.
Again we found her in the bathroom, and after a few minutes of checking her over, he decided she most probably had gastroenteritis and had to be admitted to hospital for some fluids and antibiotics.
Finding Tricia’s number on her phone I called her to sit with Colby. This enabled me to take Billie to the hospital, rather than her go alone by ambulance. Twenty-five minutes later Tricia arrived at the apartment and I placed my wife, complete with a sturdy plastic bag, into my car for the short ride there and her admission for treatment.
