by Tara Ellis
Staring at her, I look…no, search for any hint of the pain that I know has to be there. Is she sicker than I realize? Closing her eyes against my questioning gaze, she turns her back to me. “Would you get me a pad of paper and pen please? I don’t need a doctor, but I do need you to get me some stuff from the store.”
Stunned at the abrupt end to what should be a meaningful exchange, I stand up and back away from the bed, the book still clutched to me tightly. “Sure Mom, I’ll be right back. Um, thank you for the book and for telling me what happened.” Her back still to me, she remains silent. I realize there are tears running down my cheeks and I wipe at them absently. I open my mouth, wanting to say more, needing something, but not knowing what.
The silence drags on, and it’s clear that she is done talking to me. Drying my face, I turn and leave the room, telling myself that it’s because she’s sick. That’s all it is. When she’s feeling better, she’ll hold me in her lap and we’ll have a good, healthy cry together. Maybe we’ll talk more about that day and why he wanted me to have this book. She’ll tell me it’s okay and that she’s here for me, like she always is. Right now though, I am feeling very alone.
A cold nose nudges my hand, and I realize I am sitting at the kitchen table, silently sobbing. Baxter is at my side, like he always is when I’m upset. Looking down, I discover that I’ve gotten tears on the leather bound book, the dark stains spreading slowly. This makes me cry even harder and I slip off the chair and onto the floor, burying my face in Baxter’s thick coat.
I’m not one to cry much or to wallow in self-pity, so I’m embarrassed at my outburst and thankful for my silent, patient friend. It doesn’t last long and as soon as I sit back and start wiping at my nose, Baxter is quick to assist in licking up my tears. Smiling, I bat away his tongue and push him down so I can rub his tummy. He loves that.
“Who’s a good dog?” I ask him, scratching his sweet spot and making his leg kick. “Who’s the best dog in the whole world?” Writhing in delight, he smiles a doggy smile, knowing that he, in fact, is the best dog in the whole world.
Taking a deep breath, I know I have to suck it up. Now is not the time for any breakdowns, even mini ones. I have to take care of Mom and Jacob, and I can never let Jacob see me cry like that. It would put him in a panic and I don’t think I can deal with anything else right now.
I find a pad and paper and take it in to Mom. She is still wrapped up in the blanket, watching some nature show on TV. “Thanks, Alex.” Taking them from me, she writes out a list and then hands it back. “My wallet should be by the door. I think there’s some cash in there, or else Mr. Jones should be okay letting you use my bank card.”
“All right, I’ll be right back.” Turning to go, I just can’t leave things this way. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, hon.” It was nice to hear her say it, but it falls flat and her attention never wandered from the television. I quickly leave the room.
Writing out a note to say where I went, I drop it on the counter for Jacob in case he wakes up. “Stay here Baxter, I’ll be right back.” He looks at me, disappointed, but stays like I tell him to.
Grabbing the truck keys and Mom’s wallet, I head out to the garage. Pausing in the doorway, I change my mind and go back inside. For a reason I don’t understand, I take the book from the kitchen table and go back to my room. Standing there, I look around until deciding on my closet. I hide it in the very back, under an old stuffed bear. Feeling strangely better, I leave for the store.
FIVE
Standing in the health and medicine aisle, I study what is left on the shelves. Not much. Several people share the narrow space with me, most of them coughing and looking almost as miserable as Mom. Grabbing the last bag of cough drops, I drop it in my small basket where a few things are already piling up.
Looking again at the list, I snatch up the next-to-last bottle of Advil and then head to the paper products. Time to stock up on tissue.
I can’t believe how many people are in the small store, and it seems that almost all of them are sick. Most of them look like Mom did on Saturday morning. I have to admit, that in spite of my reassurance to Jacob yesterday, this is really starting to creep me out.
Cramming three big boxes of Kleenex in with the other items, I fail to notice anyone walking up behind me, and jump when I hear my name.
“Alex Mubarak, right?”
Spinning around, I find a guy I know from school standing behind me. I haven’t talked to him much lately though, since he’s a year ahead of me. “Yeah, I’m Alex. You’re Chris?” He appears to be studying me, looking carefully first at the things in my basket and then back at my face. His dark eyes are intelligent and troubled.
Nodding, he points at the stuff I’m buying. “You sick? You don’t look too bad.” It dawns on me that I’m still in the sweats I put on when I got up this morning. My long dark hair is pulled back loosely in a scrunchie. I blush slightly. I don’t normally wear much make-up even on a good day, and this is definitely not a good day. My eyes are probably still red from my cry session, completing my image of total chaos.
“Umm, no. My mom is though. I’m getting this for her. You’re okay, too?”
Holding up a pack of toilet paper, Chris grins. “Totally healthy, just getting some essentials.” Trying not to blush more, I can’t help but smile. He smiles back, his bright teeth stark against his darker complexion. The angular lines of his face give away his Native-American heritage and I remember that his dad is full Okanagan Indian, his mom half. The thought takes me back to the first time we met, at a youth group three years ago. Some of us were talking about our heritage and when I explained I got my unusually bright brown eyes due to being half Egyptian, Chris started calling me tiger eyes. Ironically, it was the same nickname my Grandpa Fisher had for me since I was a small child, but for him it was because of the gemstone, not the animal.
After Dad died, Mom turned away from the church. He had always been the one with the desire to seek out God and it seemed like his dying gave Mom all the proof she needed that he wasn’t a caring God. I didn’t have the heart to argue with her, and so hadn’t been back. I had good memories of my time in the teen group, even though I had only gone a few times.
“How’s your mom doing?” I ask him, avoiding comment on the toilet paper.
His demeanor changes drastically and he frowns at the ground. “I don’t know, haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” When I raise my eyebrows questioningly, he shrugs. “She left and hasn’t come back.”
Not knowing what to say to that, I search for something intelligent to comment on, but draw a blank. “Oh,” I mumble. Well, that’ll impress him.
“Don’t you have a little brother? Is he sick too?”
Glad for the change of subject, I quickly jump on it. “Jacob is his name, and no, he’s fine. He told me yesterday though that his best friend and another boy from school are sick. I think their parents are, too. My mom says it’s the flu but it sure is spreading really fast.”
We start to walk towards the front of the store, where there’s a line at the register. Most of them are sniffing and hacking. I feel like I should have a mask on. In fact, I notice someone else in line is actually wearing one. Smart.
“I walked through town to get here,” Chris explains, looking down at me with that serious expression again. “Not many are people out. I think most of them are either in bed, hiding, or coming here for cold and flu stuff. I saw a few ambulances go by in the short time it took me to get here. I think almost a third of the congregation at church was gone this morning and the rest are in various stages of this. It’s all really strange.”
Wanting to ask him more about his mom, but not knowing how, I just nod in agreement. I hate to think of him on his own. His dad left them when Chris was really young; he had been very open in sharing that at group. It was just him and his mom now. They don’t have any other family nearby. I realize he’s almost an adult but it still seems wrong. At least he’
ll be graduating in a couple of months and so I guess then it won’t matter.
We haven’t had any classes together this year and he’s with more of the football crowd while I’m in the keep-to-myself crowd. He’s said hi to me in the hallway at school a few times, but otherwise this is the most we’ve said to each other in two years. I am beginning to wish I had at least brushed my teeth and put on some jeans before running out the door.
“Wait a minute,” I say to him, his last comment finally sinking in. “Did you say that a third of the people at church were gone and almost everyone else was sick? How’s that even possible?”
“I really don’t know. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. I mean, not this many people so fast, plus it’s almost summer. We don’t even usually get the flu around here this time of year.”
The lady standing in line ahead of us turns around, holding a tissue to her nose. “My neighbor was taken to the hospital by ambulance this morning,” she tells us, her voice muffled. “I heard that several people have even died. The CDC is coming here to investigate. It was on the news this morning. They’re calling it some sort of super flu.” Turning back around to move forward, she begins to cough violently. Everyone takes a few steps back from her and she finally regains her breath, but has to hold onto a display rack for balance.
Chris and I look at each other, the fear of everyone near us tangible. I feel a sudden sense of urgency to get back home and check on Mom, feeling guilty now for judging her. She’s sick, and needs my help.
The line inches forward and I grab some crossword puzzle books off the shelf as we pass by. Mom loves to do these even though she’s never finished one. It’ll be a good distraction for her.
“Alex, if your mom is okay tonight, you should come to our youth group. I don’t know if we’re going to have it with everyone sick. I’ll have to call around and see how many can make it, but it’s usually at the church at seven. Here’s my cell number, text me.” Taking one of the Kleenex boxes from my basket, he writes his number on the side.
Not sure how to respond, I mutter okay and take the box back from him. It might be kind of nice to get back into something positive like that, but I’m not sure how Mom would react. She’s been so opposed to anything churchy. Maybe I’ll just go and not make an issue out of it.
It’s finally my turn at the check-out counter and I find Mr. Jones’s daughter there, her nose red and eyes puffy.
In all the years I’ve been coming into the store, it’s never changed. One big, long counter spans the front where the meat is located and the only register sits. While other stores in town have been updated, this one remains timeless. Either Mr. or Mrs. Jones have always been behind the counter. Always. My feeling of unease increases as yet one more “wrong” piles up with the others.
“Is your dad sick, too?” I ask his daughter, Mrs. Stamos. She is married to the mayor and used to teach at the elementary school when I was little. I always liked her and I hate to see her so sick and upset.
“Very,” she answers quickly. “Mom is in the hospital. I’m waiting for someone to get here so I can go be with them.” Taking a deep breath, she tells me the total and then finally recognizes me. “Oh … Alex. I’m sorry, hon. This has been a very crazy day. How is your family?”
Handing over the cash, I take the two bags from her. “Jacob and I are fine but Mom is in bed. I think she might be getting better though, or at least her cough is. I hope your parents are all right. Let me know if I can help.” Smiling weakly and nodding she turns her attention from me and on to Chris.
Dismissed, I back away feeling a bit lost. I head for the exit but Chris catches up to me as we step outside. “So text me, okay? It’d be nice to have you back,” he says, turning to walk down Main Street.
“Sure, I’ll see how things are when I get home. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.” Waving goodbye to each other, I feel reassured that there is someone else I can talk to that seems unaffected by the flu.
When I get back home, I find Jacob in the kitchen eating cheerios. “Your phone’s been ringing,” he tells me in between bites.
Running back to my room, I finally find the phone under my pillow and check the history. I missed three calls from Missy. Maybe I should have texted her earlier after all. Calling her back right away, I flop down on my unmade bed. She answers before the second ring. “Alex! Why didn’t you answer? I was so worried!”
Smiling at her exaggerated concern, I assure her that I’m alive and well. “Why are you so freaked out? Did you hear about the flu here?”
“Hear about it! It’s all over the news, Alex. They’re calling it a super bug and it’s spreading fast. They even said that it started in Washington State and is already in Oregon and Idaho.”
Normally, I’m someone that wants to know everything, but I’m really wishing I could block it all out. “Yeah, I just got back from the store and heard that the Center for Disease Control is coming to town and a bunch of people are in the hospital. I ran into this guy from school there and I swear it seemed like we were the only two that weren’t sick.”
“What guy?” Missy has a way of zeroing in on the important stuff.
We talk for over half an hour and I finally tell her I have to go after Mom starts calling for me. I promise to call or text later and let her know how things are going. Just before we hang up, I hear her sneeze.
SIX
Jacob and I eat fish for the second day in a row. I guess it was a good thing that I forgot to take it with me this morning to the store. I feel almost guilty eating it, but I promise myself to go fishing again next weekend. I’ll take Mr. Jones twice as much, when they’re feeling better.
Today was a weird day. Mom wasn’t looking any better and I felt really bad that I made her wait for me. She took the cold medicine, the Advil, and more vitamins. I made her eat some soup and then she went back to sleep.
I had to call the hospital for her, to let them know she wouldn’t be in to work today or tomorrow, at the minimum. I didn’t recognize the person I spoke with, but she didn’t sound sick. Apparently, they have had almost half of the staff call in due to themselves or family members being ill. The hospital is on over-flow protocol. She explained that meant they are out of beds, so they have to set up tents in the parking lot. There are several smaller towns that the hospital serves since it’s the only one in the area. When I asked her how bad it was, she said to tell my mom to get well and that they need her back as soon as possible.
I haven’t had a chance yet to talk with Mom about it. She’s been asleep the whole afternoon. I know sick people are supposed to sleep so I haven’t bothered her, but I keep checking on her to make sure she’s breathing okay. The wet rattle from Saturday night is gone now so I take that as a good sign.
Even though it’s been another nice, sunny day, my brother and I haven’t ventured any further than our backyard. After watching the news, I think we’re kinda scared to go anywhere.
The top story out of Seattle is what they’re calling “The Spring Flu Epidemic.” They showed men and women in white hazmat suits right smack dab in the middle of our little town of Omak. They estimate that based on reports from local hospitals, we appear to be ground zero.
They compared this outbreak to the Spanish Flu of 1918, except that the infection rate for our current bug might end up being even worse. They say that so far it’s around thirty percent of the exposed population, but that secondary exposures are just now showing up at the doctors so it may climb. Mom was right, it’s definitely a virus, but they haven’t isolated the strain yet. Even though it’s obvious that they don’t know what it is, they are still urging everyone to go get a flu vaccine. The government is doing everything it can to ensure enough vaccines are available. Whatever.
The virus is all over Washington State, and has shown up in Oregon, and Idaho. It’s expected to be seen in other neighboring States by tomorrow. I called Mom’s parents, Grandma and Grandpa Fisher. They don’t watch much television, and hadn�
�t heard anything about it yet in Nebraska. Probably best, or else they would have been really worried. I assured them that Mom was getting better and everyone else was healthy.
I debated trying to find the number to Egypt to call Grandma Mubarak. I have only met her three times in my life and haven’t spoken to her since she called once after Dad’s death, and another time to tell Mom that Grandpa Mubarak had died. It was last summer, and they had been planning on coming to visit us. I’m pretty sure that it was only Grandpa who wanted to come. He actually called the week before to talk with me, to make sure I was going to be here during the whole visit. I was a bit surprised, because I had always gotten the impression that us kids weren’t of much interest to them. I know that Grandpa shared the same desire for studying the past like Dad did, so maybe he wanted to talk with me about that, or go through Dad’s books.
Whatever the reason, I’ll never know. He had a massive heart attack the weekend before the trip and never made it out of the hospital. Grandma Mubarak cancelled the trip, obviously, and then never rescheduled. She was not comfortable making such a long trip on her own, and we are the only family here in the States. Dad was their only child. I finally decide that if she is concerned, she will call us.
I push the last of my dinner around on the plate, my thoughts taking away my appetite. Baxter whimpers at me, seeing an opportunity and I give in, scraping the fish into his dog bowl.
“Done, Jacob?” I turn my attention to my little brother, who seems as lost in his thoughts as I was in mine.
“I’m not very hungry,” he admits, shoving the plate away. “No one answered the phone at Brent’s house.” He looks at me with his dark eyes as if it’s my fault, like I should be doing something about it.