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Rose has got the girls set up at the dining room table with sheets of paper and a pack of markers. It’s the first time all day Carrie’s managed to sit still for more than five minutes at a time, and only after she had a temper tantrum because Julie tried to borrow her pink marker.
Rose isn’t sure what it is about today, but it’s only 11am and she thinks it’s been a long day for all of them. Carrie’s just had so much energy, even more energy than usual, and she’s gotten it out by running in circles around the house and screaming at Rose and Julie over nothing and generally just being a temperamental three-year-old. Julie’s been on the verge of tears all morning. Rose is exhausted, and she doesn’t know what to do.
All three of them look up at the sound of keys in the door, and Rose frowns, checking her watch. Ray should still be at work, and Trevor said he’d be in the studio ‘til late, so who could that be?
The door opens, Rose hears a painfully familiar raspy cough, and Carrie shouts, “DADDY’S HOME!!”
She immediately starts to scramble off her chair, and Rose lunges to catch her before she can tumble to the floor. “Carrie, Carrie, espérate. Wait, baby girl, remember our rule. What’s Mami’s rule?”
Carrie stops wiggling, takes an exaggerated breath, and recites, “Wait till Daddy’s in the door.”
“That’s right, good job.” Rose sits her back into her chair and hands her the pink marker. “Can you finish coloring your page so Daddy can see when he’s ready?”
Carrie’s face screws up, and Rose braces herself for another tantrum, but she just nods and bends over her paper again. Rose breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’m gonna go help Daddy get settled, okay? You girls keep coloring. Julie, baby, put the caps back on the markers you’re not using or they’re gonna dry out.”
“But they’re happy, Mama,” Julie says, pressing the tips of two markers together so that the colors start to blend. Rose decides that’s an issue she’ll deal with later.
Trevor’s just shutting the door behind him when she steps into the kitchen. He drops his keys in the little bowl on the front table and coughs into a fist. This wouldn’t be concerning—he’s got unfairly weak lungs for a singer, and the hilly walk up to the house always knocks the wind out of him—but the cough sounds worse than usual, and he looks pale even just at first glance, and oh yeah, he’s home before noon.
“Hey, sweetie, you’re home early.” Rose leans in the doorway, watching him as he hangs up his coat and shoves his guitar in the hall closet.
“Sent me home,” he grumbles, his voice hoarse and stuffy. He slams the closet door closed and swipes at his nose like it’s wronged him, sways a little on his feet. “Fucking hypocrites, made me work through worse for years but the second their image goes down, I’m suddenly a liability for trying to sing with a headcold.”
“Watch the language,” Rose cautions. “Your daughter’s in the next room, and she’s got ears like a hawk.”
Trevor gives her an annoyed look, then rubs his forehead with a shaky hand, all the hostility draining out of him. “Sorry, Rosie. Don’t feel good.”
Now Rose feels bad for teasing him. “Are you okay? Are you really sick?” He hasn’t been, other than the perpetual cough, in years, not since before the girls were born. It was a pleasantly dramatic shift from the years when Bobby—Trevor—was always sick, had done so much damage to his immune system that he caught literally everything. The second he found out Carrie was coming, he forced himself to start eating and sleeping better, took vitamins and washed his hands until they bled. He hasn’t been really, seriously sick in years now. Rose thinks she might be out of practice.
He shakes his head, mutters, fine, then blatantly contradicts his statement by sneezing so hard he almost falls over. Rose grabs his arm to steady him, immediately feels the heat radiating off his skin. “Oh, baby,” she coos, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “Come on, straight to bed with you.”
She almost forgets about the energetic three-year-olds waiting for them in the other room, until they’re passing through and Carrie shouts, “Daddy!” so loudly Rose and Trevor both wince. Before Rose can stop her, she vaults off her chair and into Trevor’s arms, and all Rose can do is thank God he catches her.
“Carrie!” Rose swoops in and grabs her, ignoring her shrieks of protest as Trevor turns away and ducks into his elbow with another sneeze. “Carrie, escúchame, no saltamos de la silla, es tan peligroso, me entiendes?”
“I don’t want you! I want Daddy!” Carrie screams, kicking her legs and hitting Rose with her tiny fists.
Rose shushes her and holds her tightly by the waist, trying not to drop her. Trevor’s coughing again, somehow still manages to look at her with wide, apologetic eyes, but she waves him off, mouths, Go, get in bed, I’ve got this, and bounces Carrie up and down a little, trying to calm her as she screams and cries.
“Carrie, baby, I know you’re upset but Daddy doesn’t feel good, you’ve gotta let him rest.”
“No! No! No!”
Carrie sobs into Rose’s shoulder, but at least she’s not fighting so hard anymore, Rose can shift her hold a little better so Carrie’s less likely to drop out of her arms. Rose rocks her gently, and whispers reassurances into her hair, and tries not to cry herself. It’s been a long day.
Carrie eventually falls quiet, sniffling into Rose’s neck, and Rose can’t tell if she’s fallen asleep or just worn herself out. Rose turns back to the table, trying to gauge if she’ll be able to get Carrie back in her seat without setting off another tantrum, and freezes. Julie’s gone.
Panic runs through Rose’s veins like ice as she spins in a full circle, scanning the living room for any sign of her daughter. Julie’s not on the couch or on the floor next to any of her toys, and she’s not in the kitchen, Rose sees when she peeks her head back in. She’s just short of calling out to her, disturbing Carrie be damned, when a door creaks open down the hall. Rose shifts Carrie’s weight on her hip and bustles toward the bedrooms, just in time to see Julie emerge from the girls’ room with four of her stuffed animals piled in her arms and a blanket trailing along behind her.
“Julie,” Rose sighs in relief, keeping her voice low in case Carrie really has fallen asleep in her arms. “You can’t go running off like that, baby, Mami didn’t know where you went.”
Julie blinks up at her with her wide, inquisitive eyes (she never looks directly at anyone, Ray thinks she might need glasses) and holds up her armful of plushies. “I’m helping Daddy.”
“Oh, baby, Daddy’s sick, he can’t play with you today.” Rose carefully braces Carrie with one hand so she can hold the other out to Julie, prepared to lead her back into her room, but Julie just frowns and looks down at her toys.
“But… but…” Her lip quivers, and Rose tenses, but Julie takes a sharp breath and no tears fall. “Mama when—when I feel icky I want my stuffies, but Daddy doesn’t have any stuffies and—and but he feels icky and—and I wanted to share.”
Rose’s heart warms despite herself. “That’s very kind of you, mariposa. Can you wait while I put Carrie down and then we can bring Daddy some stuffies together?”
Julie nods and plops down onto the floor, hugging her toys to her chest, to wait. “Is it Carrie’s nap time?”
“I think so, baby.” It’s earlier than usual, which means Carrie will be even more of a ball of energy later, but Rose can’t bring herself to care.
“Is it my nap time?”
“Only if you’re tired. If not, we can read some books until lunchtime.”
Julie nods. “I like books.”
Rose smiles and ruffles Julie’s hair on her way past. She slips into the bedroom and carefully lays Carrie down into her bed, thanking God when she doesn’t stir. Carrie’s all flushed from crying, her nose running a little, but in sleep she looks angelically peaceful. Rose can only pray it lasts.
Closing the door behind her as quietly as she can, Rose steps back out into the hallway, where Julie’s waiting in her same spot on the floor with her plushies. “Okay, baby girl, ready to read some books with Mama?”
Julie looks up at her, then down at her toys, then back up again. “Well—um. Yes, but. But first I gonna bring Daddy my stuffies.”
“Right,” Rose sighs. She kind of hoped Julie would’ve forgotten about that. “Come on, then, let’s go check on Daddy.”
If it were Carrie, Rose would have to remind her half a dozen times to stay quiet as she pushed open the door to Trevor’s bedroom, but Julie’s not the type to shout or launch herself onto the bed, even if Trevor weren’t sick. She’s silent and determined as she waddles across the carpeted floor and stops at the edge of the bed to heft her stuffed animals up onto the mattress.
Trevor is a blanket-covered lump on the far side of the bed. His studio clothes are draped over a chair, which means he at least had the energy to change into pajamas before getting into bed. Rose sits gingerly next to him and reaches over to stroke his hair out of his face, touching the backs of her fingers to his burning forehead. “Hey, baby, how are we feeling?” she murmurs. “Have you done a temperature check?”
Trevor sniffles and coughs, grumbles, “Hundred two point six.”
“Pobrecito,” Rose coos. “I’m gonna get you some medicine so you can go to sleep, okay? Did you eat today?”
The lump shuffles a little, which she thinks is supposed to be a nod. Trevor’s breath hitches, and he jerks forward with a tightly repressed sneeze.
“Bless you, Daddy,” Julie pipes up from the end of the bed. Rose gives her a smile. There are now three times as many stuffed animals on the bed than there were five minutes ago, which means Julie must have been coming in and out to grab more without Rose noticing. She can only pray it hasn’t woken up Carrie.
Trevor lifts his head out of his blanket burrito, revealing his flushed face and tired eyes. “Thanks, butterfly,” he croaks, managing a smile, and Julie giggles. “What’s all this you brought me?”
“Oh. Well—” Julie climbs onto the bed with some difficulty and starts gathering the toys one by one and placing them around Trevor’s form like she’s forming a barricade. “Mami said that—that you was feeling bleh, and—and so—but you didn’t have any stuffies and so I bringed you some to make you happy!”
She grins proudly, tucking the final plushie against Trevor’s side.
Trevor blinks a couple times. Rose thinks he might be tearing up, and her heart warms at the emotion her daughter has caused in him, but then he just turns away and sneezes again.
“Okay, Julie baby, let’s go pick out some books,” Rose decides, hopping off the bed and lifting her daughter into her arms. “We gotta let Daddy sleep, and keep you away from his icky germs.” She tickles Julie’s stomach, eliciting a bubbly burst of laughter, and signals to Trevor behind her back: I’ll be right back with medicine. Close your eyes.
He nods and slumps back down onto his pillow, coughing harshly. Poor thing.
Rose gets Julie settled in the living room to sort through the bookshelf for some stories to read. Carrie must still be sleeping soundly (they’d all know it if she wasn’t), so Rose takes the opportunity to clean up the markers at the table, put away some dishes from breakfast she didn’t have a chance to deal with earlier. She fills a glass of water for Trevor and grabs a bottle of NyQuil out from the cabinet above the sink. It’s not even noon yet, but she knows Trevor will feel much better much sooner the more he sleeps off this cold, and if he’s knocked out, she won’t feel so much like she’s got three kids to look after instead of two.
When she passes through the living room, Julie’s got a stack of books on the floor next to her and seems to be rooting through the shelf for more, so Rose figures she’ll be all right on her own a few more minutes.
“Hey,” she says softly as she slips into the bedroom again. “Can you wake up for a second so you can take this?”
“‘Mawake,” Trevor mumbles unconvincingly, the blanket lump shifting just a little.
Rose circles the bed and places the water and medicine on the nightstand. She sits on the edge of the mattress and rubs Trevor’s arm through the blanket until he rolls over onto his back. “Come on, sweetie, sit up,” she coaxes. “We gotta lose some of this blanket, too, you’re overheating.”
He grumbles, but obediently pushes the blanket off some and sits up against the headboard. He immediately starts shivering, and sneezes twice into his elbow, then scrubs at his nose with a groan.
Rose tuts sympathetically and plucks some tissues from the box on the bedside table, hands them over. She shakes out a couple of pills while Trevor blows his nose and then passes them over with the glass of water.
“Sorry about this,” he mutters once he’s taken his pills, staring bashfully down into his glass of water. “I know you’ve got a lot on your hands with the girls already, I didn’t mean to make more trouble for you.”
“Hey.” Rose tilts his chin up with a finger, forcing him to look at her. “Did I say you were trouble?”
He presses his lips together, stubborn and silent for a moment, then admits, “No.”
“Then why are you apologizing?” She cups his cheek with her hand, rubs her thumb across his too-hot skin. “You’re sick, sweetie, you know that’s not your fault.”
He nods, but gently pushes her hand away, turns his head to cough into his shoulder. He sips some more water, then hands her the glass so he can lie down again. “Carrie will be okay, won’t she?” he murmurs, eyes already falling closed.
Rose strokes his hair back. “Don’t you worry about Carrie, cariño. You just get some sleep.”
He doesn’t respond, and half a minute later, he’s snoring, like he only does when he’s congested. Rose sits there another minute or two, stroking his hair and watching him sleep. She wishes she could stay there all day, just keeping an eye on him until he’s all better, or at the very least until Ray gets home.
Alas. She has children.
Rose leaves the half-empty water glass on the nightstand next to the Nyquil bottle in case Trevor needs more later and then slips out of the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her so that it doesn’t slam.
Julie’s still right where Rose left her, on the floor of the living room, with what looks to be the entire bookshelf stacked in various piles next to her. She looks up, a little sheepishly, when Rose comes in, and hugs one of the books to her chest. “I was having a little bit of trouble picking.”
Rose bites back a sigh and manages a smile for her daughter. “That’s all right, baby girl, we can read as many as you want.”
And they do. They spend the next hour reading book after book until Rose is losing her voice and Julie starts getting squirmy on her lap. “How about lunch time now, baby?” Rose suggests before Julie can reach for another book.
Julie turns to look up at her, then stares forlornly at the waiting pile of unread stories, then back at Rose. “Lunch time might be a good plan, Mama,” she decides. “I’m a little bit hungry.”
“Me too. Mac and cheese?”
A wide grin spreads across Julie’s face. “Yes, please! But first, we have to put the books away because that is Mami’s rule.”
Rose smiles and pinches Julie’s chubby cheek. “That’s right, Julie baby, good job. Let’s put the books away and then I’ll make us some mac and cheese.”
About halfway through the process of shoving books back onto the bookshelf in whatever order Julie happens to grab them, a door opens down the hall and Rose’s heart sinks a little. She’d been hoping Carrie would at least sleep until lunch was ready. She’s always extra cranky just after she wakes up, and Rose has enough trouble keeping both girls away from the stove while she’s cooking when they’re on their best behavior.
“Mami?” Carrie calls and shuffles into the living room, clutching her stuffed manatee (named Bobby, incidentally, because Carrie heard the name on some cartoon and decided she liked it, not because she had any idea it used to be her father’s name). She knuckles at her eyes and blinks sleepily at Rose and Julie for a moment, then her flushed face turns even redder and she bursts into tears.
“Carrie!” Julie whines, slapping her hands over her ears. “Why are you crying?”
“It’s okay, baby girl, you keep putting the books away,” Rose encourages, already scrambling to her feet. “Carrie, nena, you’re okay, I’m right here.” She scoops her up and rubs her back as Carrie sobs into her shoulder. “Did you not have a good nap? Did you have a nightmare?”
Despite Rose’s attempts at soothing, or at least finding out what set Carrie off this time, the little girl just keeps crying, and Rose can see it’s starting to grate at Julie even more, distracting her from the task of cleaning up the books in favor of curling up into a ball on the floor with her hands over her ears.
“Carrie, sweetie, you gotta talk to me or Mami won’t know what’s wrong,” Rose pleads, trying to breathe past her own urge to cry. What is with today? Can nothing be easy for her? “I bet you’re hungry, huh? Do you want some mac and cheese?”
“No, I just want Daddy,” Carrie cries.
And that’s the kicker, really, isn’t it? Rose wishes she could just put Carrie in Trevor’s bed and leave it at that, but being around her dad isn’t going to make her any less difficult to deal with, and it definitely won’t help him heal any sooner. “Daddy’s sick, baby girl, he’s got germs. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”
Carrie sniffles and hiccups, her tears slowing at least a little bit. “Don’t wanna be sick,” she mumbles into Rose’s shoulder. “Just want Daddy.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Rose rubs firm circles into her back, trying to calm her. She feels warm from expelling so much energy throwing a tantrum. “He’s taking a nap, too, you know. How about we have some lunch and then you can go say hi to Daddy for a little bit when he wakes up, hmm? Julie brought him some stuffed animals, but I bet he could use some more.”
“Like Bobby?” Carrie raises her manatee, shifting in Rose’s hold so that her flushed, tear-stained face comes into view. “Bobby is—” she sniffles a few times—“He’s very good at hugging.”
“I bet Daddy would love a hug from Bobby,” Rose says. “But after lunch, okay? Let’s have some mac and cheese, can we do that?”
Carrie hugs Bobby to her chest, sniffles into its head, and thinks about it. “Shape mac and cheese?”
“Sure, baby, I’ll make shapes.”
“And then, can—can we watch Barbie with Daddy?”
“Daddy’s too sick to watch Barbie, but you and Julie can.”
She nods, seeming to accept that. “Mac and cheese, then I bring Daddy Bobby, and then Barbie with Julie. That’s a good plan, Mama.”
“Good plan,” Rose agrees, suppressing a sigh of relief. “Okay.”
Rose sits the girls in front of an episode of Maya and Miguel while she cooks a box of mac and cheese shaped like Arthur the Aardvark. They eat in front of the TV, which Rose usually doesn’t allow, but it’s been a rough day. Julie has to be reminded seventeen times not to sing with her mouth full, even if she does know all the words to the song on the show. Carrie stabs at her food more than she eats it, but at least she seems calmer, if a little uncharacteristically so. Rose wonders if something’s really wrong other than just being cranky and tired, because even Carrie’s at her least cooperative, she’s usually never quiet like this.
Of course, as soon as she thinks that, the quiet doesn’t last. Carrie declares herself done with lunch when Julie does, even if she eats half as much, and then jumps up to turn off the TV because, “This show is boring. Daddy time!” She takes off down the hall before Rose can stop her and bursts into Trevor’s room, stuffed manatee in hand.
“Mama, can I give Daddy more stuffies, too?” Julie asks politely from her spot on the floor.
Rose sighs. “Sure, baby girl, why not?”
Luckily, Trevor’s sitting up in bed with a book in his hand when Rose catches up with Carrie, looking like he’s been awake for a little while at least, which means Carrie didn’t wake him up. He still looks tired and flushed, his eyes a little glassy (from the Nyquil more than the fever, Rose guesses), his nose bright red, but he assures Rose he’s fine with a warm look as Carrie clambers onto the bed and shoves her manatee in his hands.
Julie comes in a moment later with another pile of stuffed animals, which leads to an argument because some of them are Carrie’s and “Julie, those are mine!” “I’m sharing.” “Well, let me share!” but at least there are no more tears. Trevor puts his book aside and settles back against the pillows, letting the girls surround him with every stuffed animal they own, until only his face peeks out from a pile of blankets and stuffies.
“Thanks, girls,” he says a little dryly, and Julie and Carrie both break into giggles.
There’s a little trouble again when Trevor starts coughing and Rose tries to lift Carrie and Julie off the bed. Carrie wants to stay and watch Barbie in here, even though the TV in the living room is bigger and Rose keeps reminding her that Daddy needs to rest and she needs to keep her distance so she doesn’t catch whatever he’s got, if she hasn’t already.
“But—but—” she says, her bottom lip wobbling, and Julie looks from Carrie to Rose and back again, looking a little teary herself (it’s almost her nap time, and Rose is surprised she hasn’t cried yet today for how much Carrie has).
“Carrie, baby, be a good girl for Mami,” Trevor croaks before ducking into his elbow to sneeze.
“I don’t want to,” Carrie mumbles, and one fat teardrop spills down her cheeks, but she climbs off the bed and stomps out of the room.
Rose starts to go after her, but Julie tugs on her sleeve, rubbing her eye with her other hand. “I’m sleepy, Mama.”
Rose sighs, and tries to ignore the worried, apologetic look Trevor’s giving her as she scoops Julie up. “I’m sure you are, mariposa. Come on, let’s get you a nap.”
Julie’s easy to put down, already half-asleep by the time Rose gets her into bed. When she returns to the living room, Carrie’s curled up on her side on the couch, staring blankly into space. Rose doesn’t say anything, just puts Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper into the DVD player and then sits by Carrie’s feet and rubs her back. Within minutes, Carrie’s asleep, too.
Left with only the movie to keep her company, Rose lets out a long, tired sigh, and drops her head into her hands. Today has not been easy, she reminds herself, and it might not get any easier, but she’s kept her temper in check, she’s been a good mother to the girls and a good co-parent to Trevor. Soon, Ray will be home to take some of the responsibility off her shoulders, and everything will be okay.
And yet, it seems like 5:00 is light years away. Carrie sleeps through most of the movie and then wakes up and cries until Rose starts it over. Julie joins her a little while later and wants to see the movie from the beginning, but by that point, Carrie’s invested in the plot and cries again when Rose tries to rewind it. It takes the better part of an hour to get the girls situated on the couch with a bowl of goldfish crackers each, more or less content to watch the whole movie. By the time Ray’s keys click in the lock, Rose is getting to the end of her patience.
“Hello?” Ray calls as he comes through the door. “Anybody home?”
“Papi!” Julie and Carrie cry in unison, both abandoning their snacks to race across the living room.
(Rose has no rule to wait until Papi’s through the door, because Ray is always more prepared to be stampeded upon immediate entry than Trevor is.)
“Hi, my beautiful girls!” she hears him crow from the kitchen, and Rose gratefully sinks back into the couch, relieved that he seems to have them under control. “Rose?”
“In here,” she calls gently, and a moment later he appears in the doorway, Julie on one hip and Carrie on the other, her face buried in his shoulder.
“How was your day?” He gives her a soft, knowing smile, like he can read how physically and emotionally exhausted she is just by one look (knowing Ray, he probably can).
“Long.” She tilts her head toward the bedrooms. “He’s sick, poor thing. Label sent him home early.”
“I know, he left me a message.” Julie wiggles in Ray’s arms, reaching back for her bowl of goldfish, so he puts her down and she plops onto the floor with her snack again. Ray shifts Carrie into a more comfortable spot, rubs her back, but she keeps her arms wrapped tightly around him and doesn’t move her face from his neck. “What about her?” he asks Rose, nodding at Carrie.
“What about her?”
“Has she been okay? She feels like she has a temperature.”
Rose’s heart drops into her stomach, buoying her up off the couch. “What? You’re kidding.”
Ray shakes his head and comes closer so that Rose can spread a hand across Carrie’s forehead. Sure enough, she feels warm, really warm, and Rose doesn’t think she can chalk it up to her emotions running high anymore. Though now it makes a lot more sense, how energetic Carrie was before crashing early, how quick she was to tears all day. “Carrie, baby,” she coos, stroking her hair back, “Have you been feeling sick, sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Carrie whines a little, presses her face more firmly into Ray’s neck. She murmurs something half-intelligible that sounds like, want Daddy.
“Go put her in Trevor’s bed,” Rose suggests. “No point keeping her away if she’s already sick. I’ll grab the Children’s Tylenol.”
“No, I’ve got it,” Ray says. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you go take a bath or a nap or something? You deserve it. I can take care of things for a few hours.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He leans around her to ask, “Julie, baby, can you sit here and watch your movie for a little bit and then I’ll come play with you?”
Julie bobs her head, shoving a handful of crackers into her mouth without looking away from the TV.
“See?” Ray says, giving Rose a wink. “All taken care of.” He darts in to kiss her and then heads for the bathroom down the hall, murmuring into Carrie’s hair, “Come on, my sweet girl, let’s get you some medicine and then you can take a nap with Daddy, okay?”
It’s hard to relax that night, knowing two of her family members are sick and the other two are alone, but somehow Rose manages it, almost falling asleep in the bathtub. When she stops outside Trevor’s bedroom door in her pajamas, just to check that everything’s all right, she hears Ray’s soft, soothing voice—You should’ve just stayed home from the beginning if you weren’t feeling well. Carrie, baby, I know it tastes yucky, but you gotta have some medicine. You’re not going in tomorrow, either, I’ll call your manager if I have to. There we go, good girl, now some water—and Trevor’s raspy cough in response, Carrie’s high-pitched complaints. The Barbie movie is still playing softly in the living room, and Rose can hear Julie chewing her goldfish and humming along to the songs, singing between bites when she knows the words (or thinks she does). Rose breathes a sigh of relief and pads down the hall to her own bedroom. It’s not even dinner time, but she’s half-asleep on her feet anyway, and she knows that she can sleep soundly with her family safe and relatively healthy nearby. Tomorrow will be another, almost definitely difficult, day, but for now, Ray’s got everything taken care of, so Rose can relax.