Beca was getting ready to walk into the sound booth when her assistant appeared, looking frazzled. "What's up?" Beca asked, knowing the expression well.
"The school just called," she told her. "Poppy started throwing up at school – she has a fever – and they can't get in touch with Chloe."
"She can't have her phone out while she's teaching," Beca said. She sighed and looked at Theo, who shrugged and smiled.
"Duty calls, Mama bear. Don't come back until you're certain you're not contagious."
"Thanks," Beca said dryly. "I'll let you know what it's looking like for tomorrow. But I wouldn't expect me until Monday." He nodded.
"Tell Poppy to feel better for us," he said. Beca gathered her things and looked at her assistant. "Can you call the school and tell them I'm on my way – then clear my calendar until Monday?"
"Of course," April answered. "Good luck."
"Yeah," Beca said with another sigh. The drive was against traffic, so she made it in twenty minutes. She heard Poppy vomiting before she was actually inside the nurse's office – and cringed inwardly. Surely enough, she walked in to find the little girl sitting on a cot, throwing up into a bucket she held in her lap. Big alligator tears streaked her cheeks and she sobbed as she heaved. The nurse was trying to comfort her, but there wasn't much she could do.
Once she finished that bought of vomiting, Poppy realized Beca was there and started crying harder. "Oh, love," Beca said softly. She handed the bucket to the nurse and pulled Poppy into her lap, cradling her. "I'm so sorry. What happened?"
"I threw up," she wept.
"I see that much," Beca said simply. "Was your stomach hurting all morning?"
"No," Poppy sobbed. She reached for the bucket and the nurse gave it back in time for the child to use it again. In the end, the nurse handed them a clean bucket to take to the car – just in case - and Beca hefted Poppy onto her hip. She was about to leave when one of the aides from the Kindergarten classroom appeared.
"Oh! Mrs. Mitchell. I'm glad you're still here."
"Should I be glad?" Beca asked suspiciously.
"Now Bella is sick."
"Oh, this is going to be a fun day," she muttered. It took her two trips – with the help of the aide watching one while she went to get the other– to get both girls – and two plastic buckets – into her car. She asked the nurse to check on Vera – and the preschool teacher relayed that she was fine. Relieved, Beca drove the twins home. They made it without any vomiting in the car, for which the young mother was extremely thankful. She also sighed in relief when Chloe's car pulled in the driveway just behind hers.
"Oh, thank God," Beca told her. "How did you get away?"
"The office sent me a sub. I saw the message – called back – and they told me what happened and that you took them both home. I thought you could use a few more hands."
"Oh, thank God," Beca repeated. She and Chloe each unloaded a twin from the car and took them into the house and into their bedrooms. Once she was set down, Bella just made it to the toilet in time. Poppy (and consequently Chloe) was not so lucky. After another round of vomiting, they put both girls into their pajamas and took temperatures.
Chloe called the doctor – who unhelpfully told them that there was stomach virus going around – and not to worry unless their temperatures went above 103. She carried Poppy into Bella's room and put both girls in the same bed. Both were sweaty and weepy. Chloe gave them each a dose of fever reducer and made them drink from bottles of Pedialyte. They fell asleep soon after.
Beca sat on the end of the bed, watching them. "We should call Aubrey and see if she can take Vera for the night," she said softly. "If she comes home, she's going to catch this."
"Good idea," Chloe answered. "I'll go call her. Need anything?
Beca shook her head. "I might go and get my laptop and headphones in a bit – but I want to make sure the throwing up part is over first."
"Good plan. I'm not sure if your warranty covers vomit-induced computer malfunctions."
"I'm quite sure it doesn't," Beca said, before pressing her lips together in a tired smile.
Chloe left to call Aubrey and pack a bag for Vera – and Beca wandered over to her bedroom to change into more comfortable clothing. She returned only minutes later in yoga pants and a hoodie, a book in hand. She sat at the end of the bed, studying her girls again before picking up the book. They slept for almost a half-an-hour. Bella woke with a start and Beca sprang up, carrying her to the bathroom and positioning her over the toilet just in time. Poppy was crying in the bed, but Chloe had returned just then and held her, trying to sooth her back to sleep. Four more rounds of vomiting later, the bed and carpet had still somehow been spared.
Beca and Chloe sat on the floor, backs against the bed, leaning against one another while their daughters slept above them. "I don't remember this much vomit before," Beca said, her expression one of dismay. The girls had the stomach flu one other time – two years before. In Beca's option, it was the worst possible part of raising small humans.
"They're bigger. They can hold more vomit," Chloe said. "It's the only explanation. It has to stop soon, right?"
"It has to," Beca answered. They were surprised to hear footsteps in the hallway and jumped up to see Aubrey carrying Vera. In a blanket. Because her dress was definitely covered in vomit.
"Sorry," Aubrey told them. "We didn't even make it to my house."
"How many times did she throw up?" Beca asked, taking Vera in her arms. The little girl whimpered.
"Three times," Aubrey said. "We were doing so good those first two times – pulling over and puking in the grass. But that third time – I couldn't pull over fast enough. I will probably start carrying a bucket in my car. Sounds like a good plan –"
"Sorry," Beca said, sympathetically. "Thanks for bringing her home. Sorry if we don't offer you a drink or anything – "
"No," Aubrey said, with a shake of her head. "I'm just going to go and douse myself in Purell and take my car to be detailed. I'm fine. Good luck. Call if you need anything."
"Thanks," Beca responded. Chloe dropped a kiss on the top of Vera's head and then Beca took her into their bathroom, where she quickly bathed her, held her over the toilet for two more vomiting sessions, and then got her into pajamas.
By five that evening, everyone was exhausted - but the vomiting had stopped. Bella's fever had broken. Poppy's soon followed. Vera held on to a low grade fever for another day, making her uncharacteristically fussy and uncooperative. But she eventually recovered as well – and by the weekend, they were as cheerful and active as usual.
Stomach Flu, Part 2
"Dahlia, we're going to be late! Come on!" Beca called, turning on her heel just in time to almost smack directly into Bella, who was running past her with a travel mug full of coffee in one hand, her cell phone in the other, and her messenger bag over her shoulder.
"Sorry," Bella said. "I have to run – I'm going to be late – "
She was out the door before Beca could commiserate. After two minutes passed, the brunette gave up her resolution not to go back upstairs. She climbed the steps and arrived in Dahlia's doorway to see the ten-year-old curled up in her bed, fully clothed. "What are you doing?" Beca asked, walking into the room to peer at her daughter. She had half an hour to drop the child at school and get to the city for a meeting with a potential new artist. The drive took at least that amount of time – traffic would make it worse. She was already late; whatever Dahlia's plan was - it was going to make her later. She pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her black suit pants and dialed her head production assistant, telling him that she would be late.
Sliding the device back into her pocket, she approached the bed. Dahlia's eyes weren't closed – but she was avoiding Beca's – darting all around as the older woman tried to pin them with a stare. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she sighed. "Dahlia, what are you doing? You were awake when I was up here forty minutes ago – what's wrong?"
"I don't feel good," the little girl said pitifully. The mother side of her brain was worrying while the music producer part of her brain kept interrupting with the tagline 'I don't have time for this today.'
"What doesn't feel good?" Beca asked patiently, trying her best to bit back any irritation or frustration about the schedule they were blowing. She stood up and walked into the bathroom. She returned with the thermometer, which she stuck into Dahlia's ear as she waited for an answer. Her temperature was normal.
"My stomach."
"What's wrong with your stomach?"
'It hurts," Dahlia answered simply. Beca wanted to roll her eyes, but she fought it.
"Love, you've got to work with me here. I need more information. What kind of hurt? Is your stomach upset? Is it nausea? Or?"
"I might throw up," Dahlia said, her expression pinched. Beca studied her; there were two distinct and equally likely possibilities. Either Dahlia was sick and it had come on suddenly – or Dahlia didn't want to go to school and she was extremely good at appearing sick. Her skin was paler than usual and sort of clammy, so Beca was erring cautiously on the side of actual sickness.
"Okay, kidd-o. I'm going to call Mommy. And I'll get you some medicine to help your stomach. You change out of your school clothes, okay?" Dahlia nodded and Beca stood up, walking quickly to her bedroom to call her wife.
Chloe had her planning period first thing in the morning – so she was able to answer when Beca called. "Are you there already?" She asked.
"I haven't left yet," Beca told her.
"What? What's wrong? Bec – you're going to be late – "
"Yeah, I know. We've been running slow here this morning – and now Dahlia is claiming nausea. She might be sick – she might be faking it – I honestly can't tell yet. Is there any way you can come home so I can get to this meeting?"
"I'll call the office and request class coverage. I'll call you when I'm on my way."
"Thanks, Chlo." Beca hung up with her wife and went to the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom. Unlocking it, she grabbed the bottle of emetrol and a medicine cup and returned to Dahlia's room. The little girl was back in her pajamas and curled into bed around her two favorite stuffed toys – the penguin and the white teddy bear. She sat up obediently and swallowed the medicine Beca poured for her, then snuggled back under the covers.
Beca lay next to her on the bed, on her side with her head propped up on her hand. With her free hand, she gently rubbed the little girl's stomach. "Love, do you know why your stomach hurts? Are you worried about something?"
"No," Dahlia answered.
"Okay. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I wish I could stay home with you – but I have to go to Atlanta for this meeting. Mommy will be home any minute though." When Chloe arrived, she ran directly up the stairs and appeared in Dahlia's room; she knew Beca had to leave.
"I'm sorry to run," Beca told her. "She can have emetrol again in five minutes. Not sure if it's helping," she admitted. She kissed Dahlia's forehead. "I'm so sorry you don't feel good, pretty girl."
She pecked Chloe on the cheek and grabbed her bag. She called her head production assistant and told him she was on her way. As she hurried down the stairs, she caught Bella walking back into the house. She looked troubled – and pale. "Back already?"
Bella nodded – and then dropped her bag, bolting for the hall bathroom. "Chloe!" Beca called. She hurried in behind Bella and held her hair while she vomited. Chloe arrived just as she was finishing and Beca handed her a glass of water to rinse her mouth. Bella swished and spit the water out several times before she was satisfied. She still looked green.
"I threw up on the way to class," she said miserably.
"Oh, sweetie," Chloe said softly. "I'm so sorry. Something must be going around. Dahlia's sick too." She nodded to Beca. "Becs – go before you're any later. I've got this." She helped Bella upstairs to her room and into a pair of comfortable pajamas before tucking her under the covers, a bucket close by. When she left the teenager to check on Dahlia, the little girl was bent over the toilet in her bathroom, getting sick. "Oh, sweets. I'm so sorry," Chloe said, going in to squat behind her. Dahlia was crying, big salty tears mixing with the bile that kept coming up her throat. She threw up several more times before her stomach seemed to calm and Chloe was able to help her clean up and get her back into bed.
On her way to check on Bella again, Chloe heard the front door slam. "Vera?"
"No," Beca said, walking up the stairs with a look of irritation on her face.
"What's wrong? Did they cancel the meeting?"
"No," Beca responded. "I had to pull over twice on the freeway to vomit. I'm going to bed. Sorry," she said, knowing that her wife had two sick kids to take care of.
"It's okay," Chloe assured her. "I'll bring you some ginger ale in a bit. Try to relax." Beca threw up twice more before showering and getting into bed.
Two days later, all three of them were feeling better. And Beca still thought vomit was the worst part of parenting.
I'm having fun writing for these characters again. I hope you enjoy. Please share your thoughts - it is inspiring!