Eighteen: In The Wars (Spots and Dots 3)

Kurti moaned under his breath. He thought he was *over* Rubella, and he
got a relapse, or something.
"Come on, Kurti," said Father Gottfreid. "Just one more hour."
Ach. His schoolwork. It was difficult to do when he was tired and achy
and feverish, and it was difficult to do now. *And* it felt like he had
something biting him.
Kurti rubbed his back on the headboard, and scrubbed at his chest and
stomach with the heel of his hand. "Ah! Owww..." Now the itchy-bites
*burned*.
"Kurti..." Father Gottfreid sighed. "Try to concentrate, hm?"
"But I *itch*," he complained. "And then it burns when I touch it. I
think something's biting me..." He lifted his shirt, and found that his
fur was seriously awry. It looked - and this was unthinkable - like he
hadn't bothered to brush down after towelling himself dry.
"Ach!" Father Gottfreid said. "*More* spots and dots."
"Which measles are *these*?" Kurti wondered.
"Not measles, Kurti. Chicken pox."
"But I'm *NOT* an animal!"

The scream caught Johannes' attention immediately. The crying made him
run. Father Gottfreid, though rapidly and ferverently mending his ways,
still remained under the suspicion of his first impression, for which
the word 'bad' was an understatement.
The first thing that crossed Johannes' mind was that the man had
reverted to type and hurt Kurti.
Therefore it was something of a surprise to find Kurti crying on his
bed and Gottfreid, shocked and stunned, on the other side of the boy's
tiny room.
"I'm *not* an animal," Kurti protested, between sobs. "Not an
animal..."
"What in the *world*?"
Father Gottfreid was shaking his head. "I just said he had the
Chicken pox and then--" A pillow hit him square in the face.
"I'M NOT AN ANIMAL!"
Ah. Johannes settled next to his weeping boy. "Kurti... Kurti... Shhh,
now. Ssshhhhh..."
"...I'm not an animal," Kurti gasped out.
"Kurti... *Love*... Nobody ever said you were, dear. *Nobody* said you
were."
"...but 'e said I *was*..." Kurti cried into Johannes' shirt.
"*Love*... The Chickenpox is an ordinary childhood disease. *I* had
it."
Kurti sniffed. "But -- *Chicken* pox..."
"It's just a word, Kurti. Some words just don't mean *anything*,
fuzzy-love. Some people thought the lesions made the skin look like a
plucked chicken, that's all."
Kurti whimpered. "I feel awful," he said.
Ah, yes. His fur. The poor dear, he never liked having anything in his
fur. "I'll get you some calamine lotion, love. That'll help the itch go
away. I won't take a minute."
"No..." whimpered Kurti. "I hit a Father Gottfreid with a pillow."
_Lord love him..._

"By the way, Father?"
"Yes?"
"Your German's still a little shaky. Here, it's called Windpox, not
Chicken pox."
"Ah, my mistake. I translated it directly."
"It's too late now," sighed Johannes, "The kids have latched on to the
term. We won't be able to stop them."
"Unfortunately," said Father Gottfreid.

"He is not!"
"Is *too*!"
"Is *NOT*!"
"Is *TOO*!"
"*Mama*... Tell Katja to quit lying!"
Astrid sighed. "What *now*, little loves?"
Anja pointed a finger at her elder sister. "Katja says Kurti's turning
into a chicken 'cause of the pox, and if we catch it, we'll be chickens
too and you'll eat us up for dinner."
Good Lord, that urban myth generated spontaneously. "Katja," she
warned.
"It's true! It's true! He's growin' feathers already!"
"Kurti's *not* growing feathers," she insisted. "Listen to me. Both of
you. Kurti has the Chicken*pox*. It does *not* mean that he's turning
into a chicken."
Anja was a little red-faced and teary-eyed. "But Papa was *basting*
him..."
Oh dear. "That was calamine lotion, darling. All the Chickenpox does
is make you *itch*; and poor Kurti has a worse time of it because of his
fur."
"They *aren't* pinfeathers?" said Katja.
"No, love. Just little clumps of fur sticking up."
Katja heaved an immense sigh of relief and began rubbing at her body.
"Very good... I was *so* scared to scratch... *Oooowww*..."
It was going to be a long, *long* day. "Come on, now, into the
bathroom. Time for a spot check. You too, Erika. Show me your spots."
Erika lifted up her dress. "I'm a leopard, Mama! Rrraaawwrrr!"
"Are you an *itchy* leopard?"
"*JA*!"
Astrid sighed again, and lead the trio of girls into the bathroom,
where Kurti was getting coated in pink liquid.
"Hallo?" Johannes said on their arrival. "What have we here?"
"Two chickens and a leopard," said Astrid. "All in need of some
calamine for their itches."
"Look on the bright side," said Johannes. "At least we're getting it
all over with at once."
"Good enough for me," said Astrid, siezing the bottle and a cotton
ball. "If I see another spot I swear I'll scream."
"Lookit," said Erika. "Kurti has 'em on his tail."
"That's nice, dear," said Astrid.
"You didn't scream, Mama," said Anja.
"I didn't look."

Kurti just couldn't get comfortable. There were only a few places on
his entire body that didn't have welts, and none of those were really
good to rest on.
He and his sisters all wore mittens, to prevent them from scratching
and getting nasty scars. Papa had one on his back. Even after decades,
it looked vicious.
And, to add to his personal agony, Mama and Papa had said that if *he*
scratched, he'd get bald spots where the scar tissue was.
Everyone was miserable, though Kurti was prone to include only Erika
with himself as the most miserable people in the house. She was still
coughing and sniffling and hot.
Poor little Erika. As the youngest, she wasn't as immune as the others
to all the diseases that had assaulted her. She had the most miserable
times of miserable times, and wasn't afraid to express it.
"Itches," she complained. "Hot."
"I know," Kurti soothed. Mama and Papa were run off their feet looking
after the four of them, even *with* Father Gottfreid helping and the
occasional neighbourly casserole. "Tell you what," he said. "I found out
something. If you hold off from scratching, it doesn't itch so bad after
a while. I'll hold your hands and you hold mine and we can stop each
other. Sound good?"
Erika nodded, and held out her hands.
Kurti made sure he had a good grip. "It's going to be all right," he
promised. "You'll get over this, I swear."
"Itches," she whispered, tears falling down her face. "It itches
*bad*."
She was really *covered* in spots and dots.
"You just squeeze me," he offered. "Squeeze my hands for how bad it
itches. Just be gentle, eh? I don't want to be crushed."
Erika giggled and squeezed his hands. After a little while, she eased
off.
"There," he said. "That wasn't so bad," and had to grimace while a set
of itches crawled through his fur.

"What're they *doing*?" said Anja.
"They're stopping each other from scratching," said Katja. "Either
that or they're having a funny face contest."
Erika was starting to look relieved. She even sighed. "The itches are
going *away*," she said.
Anja instantly picked a spot on the floor. "If it works for them, it's
gonna work for us," she declared. "C'mere and hold my hands."

"D'yurgh," said Johannes. He quickly put the cup down.
Father Gottfreid laughed. "That's why you don't drink it unless you're
sick. My mother *swore* by this tea."
"Sure she didn't swear *at* it?" said Astrid, who had just tried a sip
of her own. "The kids won't drink *this*. Can't we add sugar or honey?"
"You *can*, but it won't help. It'll just taste awful anyway." He
smiled as he took up the tray and headed for the lounge room, where the
kids had, once again, made camp in front of the television. There, he
found the most peculiar scene.
The children had paired up and were holding each other's hands, and
staring fiercely into the other's eyes. Then, after an unspecified time,
they'd sigh and giggle with relief, only to start again a few minutes
later.
Johannes and Astrid were staring with him.
"I take it this isn't some Romani ritual," he said.
"It's news to *us*," said Johannes.
One of the girls - Katja - spoke in Romani to her mother, then Astrid
replied with a phrase Gottfreid was becoming rapidly familliar with.
"[*Guests* are present, Katja.]"
Katja blushed. "We're helping each other not to scratch," she said.
"If we do it long enough, we won't itch any more."
"That's what Kurti said," added Anja.
"Well," said Gottfreid. "I have a tea that happens to help with
illnesses. It breaks fevers, and gives you something else to think about
for an hour or so."
They mobbed him, took one sip of the tea, and made faces.
"Eeeeuuurrrrgggghhh..."
"Drink it all down," said Astrid. "It's good for you."
"It has to be," said Johannes. "It tastes *just* like medicine."
Their dutiful children whimpered, whined, and complained, but they
also sipped and scowled.
Kurti drank his down in one go and shuddered so badly that all his fur
stood on end. "Ooog," he said. "Ach! It certainly works."
The other children stared at him.
"I'm not doin' *that*," said Katja.
"Me neither," said Anja.
"Me neither, too," said Erika.
Kurti belched. "Pardon," he murmured, and belched again. "Oh,
*pardon*..." A third burp was cut off by both hands and some rapid
swallowing, then Kurti raced from the room.
He was noisily sick.
"That's *never* happened before," Gottfreid declared. "Not *once*."
The girls were looking suspiciously at their tea. Gottfreid didn't
blame them.
"Keep drinking *slowly*," Astrid advised them. "I'll look after
Kurti."

She found him leaning against the bathtub, looking slightly pale and a
lot wrung out. Every now and again, he'd burp and look completely
horrified about it.
"I've never *been* so sick," he quavered. "I think I just threw up
yesterday's breakfast..."
Astrid fetched a glass of water and gave him a sip to rinse out his
mouth, and another sip to try and settle his stomach. "There, now. It'll
be all right, dear."
Kurti lunged forward and coughed up the water and some bile. "I'm
sorry, Mama."
She put the glass down and hugged him. "You can't help it, love. It's
part of who you are. Some medicine just hits you in a funny way. You've
got to learn to be careful, is all."
"I promise I'll be careful," he said. "I promise I'll be good. I'll
try my best, I will; I *will*..." Kurti sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "I
just want it to go away."
All she could do was run her hand through his hair and rock him
gently, like she used to when he was smaller. "There, now," she cooed.
"There, now. Just try to relax."
He did, though she could see his stomach clench, periodically. It
settled down to a quasi-regular spasm, eventually, and Kurti agreed to
try a little lunch.
What worried Astrid was that he said he wasn't hungry. Kurti's fever
had broken sometime during the morning, so he *should* be hungry. And
considering he'd just emptied his stomach, he *should* be ravenous. But
he wasn't.
She gave him a little bowl of chicken broth and bade him eat slowly.
It didn't stay down. Apparently, Father Gottfreid's family panacea had
locked her poor boy's stomach into a cycle of rejection.
Gottfreid practically threw himself at her feet, appologising for the
error and all but falling to hysterical weeping. He then launched
himself at the telephone to cajole his mother for half an hour for an
antidote to the medicinal tea. Judging by his red face and appologetic
demeanor, there wasn't one.
Johannes dipped a teaspoon into the honey jar, and dribbled off most
of it before he gave it to Kurti. "Just suck on it, eh? Try not to
swallow too often."
"Johannes?"
He smiled. "Honey can be absorbed by the tongue," he said. "It's ideal
for feeding very sick people, because even if *some* comes up, they
still get a benefit."
Learn something new every day... Astrid washed the old spoon as
Johanned readied the next, and prepared to field an onset of sibling
jealousy by getting out another three teaspoons.
Katja, Anja and Erika just watched, faces clear with worry, as Kurti
sucked on teaspoons and looked miserable.
Father Gottfreid put a blanket over Kurti's shoulders and rubbed the
boy's back. "I'm truly sorry, lad."
"I know," said Kurti. "I thought it was medicine for me, too."
After four teaspoons, Johannes started leaving a little more honey on
the spoons, and watching Kurti like a hawk. When his usual colour
returned, Astrid tried him on the broth again, which he ate with
increasing speed.
By the time sunset rolled around, he'd 'stocked up' and crawled into
bed for a well-earned rest.
It was a relief to watch him peacefully slumber.
"I'm lucky I've already gone grey," she said. "Today would have sent
me there."
Johannes hugged her. "Yeah. But it'll get better."