Once they'd spelunked enough, Michael and Fiona slept, deeply and happily, until 2:42 a.m. That's when they heard Charlie crying loudly. The crying stopped for a moment, and then a much worse sound started. They bolted out of bed and ran down the hall just in time to see Charlie vomiting all over himself and his bed.
Fiona bounded across the room, yelling "Go get something!" as she ran. She pulled Charlie out of the mess as best she could. By this time, Charlie was hysterical and choking.
Michael raced into the bathroom and grabbed the trash can. Seconds later he was holding it under Charlie's face as Fiona got him on all fours to stop him from choking. Fiona rubbed his back and talked to him softly, trying to calm him down. Soon he stopped vomiting, and a little while after that he caught his breath. Then he started crying again immediately.
"My tummy huhts!" he moaned.
"I know it does, cutie," soothed Fiona. "Let's get you out of this yucky mess and get you all cleaned up." She stood and reached down to pick him up, but he pulled away. "I wahn Uncuh Micuh," Charlie wailed.
So Michael bent down, picked up a barf-laden and still-crying Charlie, and held him to his chest. Bear in mind Michael and Fiona sleep in the nude, so both of them had their fair share of vomit on their skin and in their hair.
"Our shower?" Fiona asked over the wails.
"Either that or the hose," Michael said. "Don't worry, Charlie. We're going to get you all fixed up."
"On second thought, you go get started while I strip his bed. Maybe it hasn't soaked into the mattress yet."
"Forget the mattress. Try to do something about the carpet."
She gave a half-hearted laugh. "I'd been wanting to pull up that carpet anyway. It smells like menthols and regret."
Michael stepped into the shower with Charlie. "All right, man, let's clean you up." He tried to put Charlie on the floor of the shower, but Charlie would have none of it. He clung to Michael. "Charlie, sit down for just a minute and let me rinse you off," Michael said. "Then I'll pick you right back up." Charlie whined weakly but soon stopped fighting.
A former military member, Michael has perfected the art of the 45-second shower. Between his expertise and the handheld shower head, he managed to rid both their bodies of barf in under thirty seconds. Then he got the bottle of body wash and sat down with Charlie. He had scrubbed Charlie clean and was almost finished with himself when Fiona came in the bathroom.
"There actually wasn't that much on the carpet," she said as she joined them in the shower.
"You're kidding. He was like the Exorcist."
"Apparently not." She gave herself a quick rinse with the handheld shower head, then started the long task of washing her hair. "Charlie, how are you feeling, baby? Are you okay now?"
Charlie nodded and sort of grunted in response. The kid was half asleep. Michael finished washing himself, picked Charlie up, and carefully stepped out of the shower. He used one hand to pull a towel off the bar, then walked to their bed and spread it out before laying Charlie down on it. Already asleep, Charlie let out a loud snore. Michael wrapped him up and headed back to the bathroom to get a towel for himself.
"He's asleep," he told Fiona.
"Good. Hopefully for a while. Did you get the name of his doctor from your mom?" Fiona called from the shower, still inspecting her hair.
"Nope."
"Michael! You were supposed to call her weeks ago!"
"Yep. Sure was," he said, rubbing his hair dry.
"And?"
"And nothing. I just forgot."
Fiona snorted. "Right."
"Well, Fi, can you blame me? Or are you forgetting what it's like to talk with my mother about anything medical? I ask her for the name of a doctor and I guarantee you I'll be on the phone for an hour while she tells me about all the doctors who've wronged her."
"Fair enough. I suppose he's okay for now."
Michael craned his head to look at Charlie. "He hasn't moved." He finished drying off and put on a pair of boxers. "I'm going to go deal with his bed."
"He should sleep with us."
"Wherever he sleeps, there's still a pile of puke to deal with. I'll be back." Michael walked toward the growing odor in Charlie's room. He flipped the light switch and groaned when he saw the extent of the mess on the bed. At least Fiona had managed to get most of it off the carpet. He went back to their bathroom.
"I'm throwing the sheets away," he announced. "And possibly the mattress."
"Good call."
"I don't want to put him in our bed, Fi," Michael said. "If he barfs again, we're out of beds."
"I know; I already thought of that. Go get his shower curtain and a bunch of towels. We can lay the liner on the floor next to our bed and he can sleep down there."
Michael nodded. "That'll work."
"And you'd better go online to your moms' group and find out what the hell we're supposed to do next," she called as he left.
By 3:30, a tightly sealed garbage bag full of barfy sheets was on the curb (Charlie had the courtesy to get sick on garbage day), and Michael and Fiona were back in bed. Charlie was dead asleep on the little pallet of towels they'd made him next to Michael's side.
"Did he seem hot to you?" Michael asked.
"Not especially. Why? You think he has a fever?"
"I don't know. I know we don't own a thermometer."
"Well, he felt normal to me. Let's just see what happens."
Michael let out a deep breath. "We've got class tomorrow. Today."
"What about Jes – " Fiona stopped herself. "Shit, he's at that thing in DC." Sam couldn't substitute teach, either. He and Elsa were cruising the Mediterranean.
"My mom?" he asked. "She can't be contagious anymore."
"No, today's her big excursion with Laura. They're going to the outlets or something. She's been looking forward to it. I'll just stay with him. You can get by without me."
Michael groaned softly. "Are you sure, Fi? What if tomorrow is a repeat of tonight? One body isn't enough."
"I'll manage. It's just a half day. Just get home fast."
"Absolutely." Michael sat up to look at Charlie again. Still passed out and breathing calmly. "All right, well, cross your fingers for nothing else tonight. And hey," he said, turning to face her, "the Black Widow can come back anytime."
She grinned. "She may have to do an encore one of these days. But this time she's damn well going to use her web. She deserves that much."
"She deserves that much," he repeated, nodding.
Michael's spidey sense woke him up near 7:00. An instant later, a deafening "BOO!" filled his ear. He and Fiona both sat bolt upright and looked to their right, blinking their eyes into focus.
Charlie burst out laughing. "I skehd you! I said BOO and I skehd you!" He flopped his head onto Michael's legs, still cracking up.
"Oh my god," Fiona moaned, falling back onto her pillow. "Charlie, you can't scare us like that! And it hurt our ears."
"I sawhy. I wahn to get on yuh bed!" He climbed over Michael, kneeing him in the groin before situating himself between his two victims.
"Charlie, you're supposed to be sick," Michael groaned.
"I not sick! I happy happy happy," he said as he bounced and bounced and b – . Michael stopped him on the third bounce.
"Your tummy doesn't hurt?" Fiona asked.
"No!" he said, slithering out from the prison of Michael's arm.
"Do you remember that you were sick in the night?" she asked.
"No! C'mon, guys, less pay Weh-uh's Choddy!" He pulled the comforter over him. Michael and Fiona could hear his muted giggling and see the blanket moving as he shook from laughter.
"So do we send him to school?" Michael asked.
"We can't. He can't go if he's been throwing up."
"How are they going to know? Look at him."
"If he throws up while he's there, they'll send him home and won't let him back until the day after tomorrow," she said. "Virginia told me."
Michael snorted. "What a racket."
"GUYS!" said the lump under the blanket. "Weh-uh's Choddy!"
Michael just shook his head. "Where's Charlie?" he said loudly. "Say, Fi, have you seen Charlie?"
"No, I haven't seen him. Have you checked the laundry basket?"
"No, good idea. I'll go check." He waited three seconds, then said, "Nope, not there. Where's Charlie? Maybe he's in the toilet tank." Another three seconds. "Nope."
"Where on earth could he be?" Fiona said, lying down with her eyes closed.
"I just don't know. I'm really tired. I think I'll just lie down and take a nap." He sat up and then bent down so his upper half was over the lump. "Hey, what's this? Fi, why is the bed all lumpy?" The lump convulsed with laughter. Knowing what was coming in this often-played scene, Michael moved out of the way a split second before Charlie burst out like a Jack in the Box.
"Hee-uh I am! You couldn't find me!"
"You're too clever for us, Charlie," Fiona said as she sat up to hug him. "Just too clever."
"I gotta pee," Charlie announced. He scampered off the bed and ran to their toilet. He pulled his underwear down on his way and, to his credit, made it within a foot of the toilet before he started peeing. He was improving, and at least now he routinely made it past the carpet.
Michael picked up his watch from his night table. "Five after seven. I wonder if I can get another hour."
Charlie flushed and bounded back into the bedroom. He leapt onto the bed. "Less eat bekfest!"
"Guess not," Michael said.
"Stop, Fi. He can't have milk," said Michael as Fiona opened the refrigerator a few minutes later.
"Why not?"
"We're supposed to give him bland stuff. No dairy."
"Even if he's okay?"
Michael shrugged. "I don't know. Let's err on the side of caution."
"Okay, Charlie, you want some water?" Fiona asked.
"I wahn milk."
"Can't have milk this morning. Just water for now," she told him.
He pouted a little. "Okay. Watuh. And waffles."
"Can he have waffles?" she asked Michael.
"I would think so, if there's nothing on them."
"Plain waffles today, Charlie. Okay?" she said.
"Okay."
She got the package from the freezer and deposited two waffles into the toaster. As she waited for them to pop, she leaned against the counter and faced Michael. "Hey."
"What?"
"Let's bring him with us."
"Where?"
She snorted. "Where. To work! Where else?"
"You gotta be kidding."
"I'm serious. He can be next door in the scenario room. We'll bring things for him to do, and we'll check on him a lot. Hell, we can just watch him on the monitor."
"Fi, we don't even know if he's actually well yet. I mean, what if he gets sick again while we're there?"
"Then I'll bring him home. We'd already planned for me to be gone. At least this way there's a chance I can be there."
Michael sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe this is what our lives have come to."
She smiled. "I rather like it."
An hour later, the trio walked into the grey, bleak building that screamed THE GOVERNMENT BUILT ME. Michael was wearing a backpack full of books, trains, cars, paper, crayons, Legos, and random things Charlie threw in while they weren't looking. Charlie spied the bank of elevators immediately.
"Uncuh Micuh dey have uh ettanatir!" He ran to the bank of elevators. "Free ettanatirs!"
"Yep, three elevators. You like elevators?"
"Yah less go in one!"
"Push the top button, Charlie," Fiona said. "The one with the arrow pointing up. Wait, d – " Charlie pushed the top button, but since nobody told him not to push the bottom button, he pushed it as well.
"That was predictable," Michael said.
"Charlie, when we get inside the elevator, don't push any buttons," Fiona told him. "Don't touch anything."
"Okay."
Finally the light over the middle elevator glowed orange. They got in, and true to his word, Charlie didn't push any buttons. Instead he jumped up and down for all eleven stories of the trip.
They arrived at the suite that housed the training department for South Florida. Michael took a deep breath and opened the door. "Hey, hey," he said.
"Well, who's this?" a woman in her late 50s asked enthusiastically.
"This is Charlie," Michael said. "Charlie, this is Mrs. Medrano. Can you say hi?"
Charlie grabbed Michael's leg and buried his face in it.
"Oh, now you're shy? You talk for hours at home."
"That's okay," Celia (aka Mrs. Medrano) said warmly. "I'm so happy to meet you, Charlie. Are you helping your mom and dad today?"
More face burying.
"Charlie was a bit under the weather last night," Fiona said. "He seems to be fine this morning, but he can't go to daycare, so we thought we'd give it a go with him here."
Just then a 30-something woman came in from one of the rooms down the hall. "I thought I heard we have a visitor." She knelt down to Charlie's level. "Hi, buddy. My name's Kathleen. I have a really important question for you. Are you ready?"
Charlie nodded slowly, intrigued.
"This is my question. Do you think you might like to play with another little boy around your age?"
Charlie nodded again, enthusiastically this time, and got a big smile on his face.
Kathleen stood up. "You're not going to believe this. My four year old is in my office. My nanny called in sick, so here we are."
"What a stroke of luck for Charlie," Fiona said. "But I'm afraid you may not want him around – sorry, what's your son's name?"
"James."
"James. May not want him around James because he was sick last night. He might be contagious."
Kathleen laughed. "Not a problem. James has three older brothers and sisters. He's had every disease they make. He's one hardy kid."
"You've got four children?" Michael asked.
"Yep. Twelve, nine, seven, and James just turned four."
"Funny, you don't seem like a lunatic," he deadpanned. She laughed.
"All boys?" Fiona asked.
"Boys on the outsides and girls in the middle. And you're right; most of the time I feel like a complete lunatic and wonder why we did this to ourselves. But it's gotten easier with time. It's become sort of Darwinian at my house. Whoever's left standing of the four of them rules the roost on a given day. The kid roost, anyway. Mark and I have a mantra we tell them: Whoever complains first is out of the will. Works for the two older ones. The younger two will get it eventually."
"My parents' mantra was Shut up, Michael. My mother still uses it a lot."
"We use that one from time to time," Kathleen said. "What about you two? Is Charlie your only child?"
"He's my nephew, actually," said Michael. "It's . . . it's complicated."
"Ahh," said Kathleen. "Isn't it always." There was an awkward silence.
"Are you sure about this?" Fiona finally asked. "Charlie can be a handful."
"Are you kidding? This is a godsend for me. James is driving me effing crazy. We've been here thirty-five minutes, and he's already told me he's bored and needs a double chocolate chip frappuccino to get through the morning."
Michael and Fiona burst out laughing. "Quite a sophisticated palate," Fiona said.
Kathleen groaned and shook her head. "Don't get me started. He told me the other day he'd prefer I blanch the green beans before I serve them to him. It's that damn Food Network. My husband's an amateur chef, and James likes to watch the shows with him."
"What a character," Fiona chuckled. Kathleen nodded.
"What do you say, Charlie?" Michael asked. "Do you want to play with James while Auntie Fi and I do our work?"
"Yah," he said shyly.
"All right. Ms. Kathleen is in charge. You need to follow her directions and give her your best behavior. Deal?" said Michael, holding out his hand.
"Deal!" Charlie exclaimed as he shook Michael's hand.
Michael shrugged off the backpack and handed it to Kathleen. "There's an inhuman amount of entertainment in here. Maybe it'll keep them busy for a while. If not, just throw the stuff at them. It'll teach them to dodge enemy fire."
Kathleen laughed. "That is an excellent idea. Now I have a justification for throwing crap at my kids. Usually I just do it for fun."
"Go with god, Kathleen," said Michael, saluting her. "And in case you die, I've enjoyed knowing you."
Class was uneventful. Michael and Fiona bid fond farewells to Daniel, Jason, Melissa, and poor old Neal. Some of the farewells were fonder than others.
At 12:08, they arrived in the large, vacant conference room where Kathleen had set up shop. She was typing on her laptop. The boys were under the table watching something on her tablet.
"You're alive," Michael declared. "And so are they. I'm impressed."
"They were fine. Charlie's a sweet kid. And hysterical, by the way."
"Yeah, he has his moments," Michael replied. "What about you? Did you get anything done?"
"Oh, sure, sure. In three hours I answered two emails and got halfway through an expense report."
Fiona grimaced. "I'm sorry."
"Honestly, it's more than I would've gotten done with just James. They entertained each other, or at least they did when they weren't fighting or arguing or tattling on each other."
Michael noticed the backpack was zipped closed near the door. "Did they do any of that stuff?"
"Nope. They had rolling chair races and looked for staples in the carpet. Then they wanted to email Santa, so we did that for, like, an hour."
"It's August," Michael said at the same time Fiona asked, "Santa has an email address?"
"He does now. Santa at north pole dot com." She lowered her voice. "I made sure they were somewhere else when the bounce-back came in," she whispered.
"You're brilliant," Michael announced. "Kathleen, listen, you really saved our asses today. You need anything at all, you let us know."
"Absolutely," Fiona said. "Maybe James and Charlie can play together again," she added.
"He's welcome at our house anytime," Kathleen said. "He might have to yell to remind us to feed and water him, though. We're kind of a squeaky-wheel family."
Michael and Fiona laughed. "You think we can tear him away from that?" Michael asked, looking under the table.
"This type of situation, I just scoop and run. You'll never get out of here otherwise."
"I like your style, Kathleen," he replied.
Well, hello again! That was a long hiatus even for me. That silly mojo again. I just didn't have it. I'm not sure how long my inspiration will last in this spurt, but I'll give it my best shot. Thank you to everyone who sent me notes or messages in the interim, telling me they couldn't wait for more of this story. Best feeling in the world. Hope everyone's well, and thank you for reading.