Page 13 of Man Flu

With a pit already in my stomach, I peek at the caller ID. “Motherfu—.” My reaction sort of slips out, but come on. “This is Hannah,” I answer.

“Hi Mrs. Pierce, this is—”

“I know who you are,” I mutter.

“Miss Cora has a fever of one hundred two, and she vomited in class. Unfortunately, we can’t keep her in school with these symptoms. I’ll need you to come and pick her up as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I concede and hang up, then with my elbows on the desk, I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let out a long sigh as I press my forehead into my hands.

Logan presses his hands into the armrests of the chair he’s still seated in and looks at me with question, probably wondering if he should stay, go, or ask if I’m okay. Am I ever okay? Nope. Definitely, never okay. It’s been a long time since I’ve been okay.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Logan releases his hands from the armrests and settles back into the seat. “My daughter woke up sick. She insisted on going to school, but now she has a fever, accompanied by vomit.”

“Oh man, and we have that meeting at noon,” Logan reminds me, but he doesn’t have to.

It’s another defining moment in my life where I silently tell Rick to Screw off again while I think of a solution on my own, even though he could take some responsibility for his daughter on an inconvenient occasion.

I can’t miss this meeting.

I hold up my pointer finger to Logan, telling him to wait a minute. I grab my phone and dial Rick’s office number.

“Yo, this is Rick,” he answers after the first ring.

Real professional. “Rick, it’s Hannah, I need your help today. Cora is really sick, and I have a meeting I can’t miss at noon.”

“Hannahbananna,” he draws out my name. Did he hear a word I said, or is he just ramping up to be his usual douchebag self? “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Babe, I can’t. I’m meeting with a client at one, and it’s in Newport, which is at least an hour drive.

“Mmhhm. I see. Well, as always, use protection, Rick.”

“Hannah, you can’t just throw that around whenever you feel like it.”

“You’re right. I’m so thoughtless sometimes. Go to hell, Rick.” I can’t think of anything appropriate to respond with since he’s already way too familiar with every name I could call him. It’s all moot to him anyway, so I hang up. This is how it has always been. I’ve always had to take the back seat to his career, even after the divorce, which is totally unfair, since I only ask him for help when it involves Cora, and she is his daughter too. I need to depend on his child support, yet I can’t manage to better my life by not screwing up my job at least once a week. “Sorry, my ex is a dick,” I explain to Logan. Way too personal, but it is what it is.

“How about, you go get her, bring her here, and I’ll keep her entertained during the meeting?” he says.

Did I imagine everything he just said, or did he truly just offer to help me? I can’t remember the last time someone offered to give me a hand, considering I don’t have mom friends, and I don’t exactly belong to the cooperative system of all those moms who are united and have some pact to help each other out in times of need. My single friends don’t understand, and my parents are too busy cruising along the Mediterranean somewhere for the fifth time this year.

“She’s really sick. I don’t know if I should bring her into the office,” I tell him.

“I take my Flintstones,” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

“Logan, I don’t know if you’re trying to get a raise on your second day of work, but you’re doing a damn good job, and I’m already considering it.”

“Then my plan is working,” he says with a snicker. “I love kids. I’ll keep her entertained. Don’t worry about it.”

He must be gay. Straight men like him don’t exist. It’s an accurate assumption based solely on the diversity of douchery I’m surrounded with right here in this very office building.