by A. L. Knorr
"No, I'm Saxony, her au pair. She gave me her ticket since she wouldn't be able to use it in time. Is that okay?"
"Of course. And who is this?" He looked down at Isaia, who'd been standing solemnly at my side.
"This is Isaia." I took the hat off his head and frowned at the purple smudges beneath his eyes. I could have sworn they weren't there a minute ago.
"Welcome Saxony and Isaia," said Rafaele, putting his hands together. "Are you ready for a private demonstration of the ancient art of glass blowing? A secret that was protected for thousands of years?" He waved his fingers mystically.
Isaia stared.
"We're ready, right?" I took Isaia's hand and he looked up at me and nodded. I noted with pleasure that there was some interest on his face. Finally, something that animated him, even if it was slight.
"Then please follow me," said Rafaele. He swept an arm across his face like a magician behind a cape.
Isaia's mouth lifted at the corners.
I was not prepared for how stifling the workshop was. A blast of hot air blew my hair back. My eyes went dry and my upper lip felt suddenly damp. No wonder Rafaele's hands were so warm.
A short hallway lined with shelves full of glasswork led to a workspace. Two ovens yawned from a stone wall. Tools littered a metal table and seats lined the workspace at a safe distance from the heat. A red glow emanated from one oven, while the other was dark and cold. Metal blowing rods leaned against the wall in a line.
"Prego." Rafaele gestured to the seats.
Isaia and I each took a chair in the front row.
"Before we begin, I'll explain a little about the history of..." The door chimed, and Rafaele broke off. "Oh accidenti. Excuse me, I've forgotten to lock the front door. I will help the visitors quickly and then return. Forgive me."
He left in a rush, and Isaia and I waited. I fanned myself with my hat. As the minutes passed, Isaia grew restless. He was staring into the fiery oven when I heard him inhale. It was a raspy, wheezing sound.
"Isaia?"
He turned and looked at me. His coal black eyes were filled with a pain that hadn't been there a few moments before. My heart skipped a beat.
"What is it, honey?" I crouched in front of him. "Isaia?"
He put his hands on my shoulders to brace himself. The same red glow I'd seen on the first day rose in his eyes. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The glow was there and then gone, just a flicker, only this time there was no sunlight coming in from anywhere.
I gasped. I had not imagined it. I put my hands to the sides of his face, fear curdling in my guts. He was burning up, and his breathing grew more laboured. I put my lips against his forehead. He was beyond feverish. Elda had explained that he sometimes gets sudden fevers, but she'd never impressed upon me their ferocity. Or was this one extra bad?
Peering into his eyes, I watched for the strange glow to reappear. I put my hands to the sides of his ribs. I almost snatched my hands back from his belly — he was nearly hot enough to burn me. His torso was even hotter than his forehead.
He inhaled again, wheezing. He lifted up his t-shirt and displayed his skinny white belly. We both lit up from underneath, throwing strange shadows across our faces. A red glow illuminated his belly from the inside, as though he'd swallowed a piece of hot coal. The dark shadows of his ribs stood out through his skin. I thought I could even see his heart pulse darkly in his chest.
"I-Isaia," I stuttered, but I had no words. I put a hand against the shelf to steady myself. The world spun. I squinted my eyes shut against the vertigo and hoped that I was imagining things.
I opened my eyes. The glow was still there.
The sound of voices came again from the other room. The door chime went off.
I took a steadying breath. "I have to get you home. Right now." I pushed his shirt down. The glow was still faintly visible through the fabric.
Rafaele entered the workshop. "I apologize about that... Whoa!" He nearly stumbled over us. I stood up and stepped in front of Isaia to hide the glow.
"Is everything okay?" His smile disappeared and his brows knit together with concern.
"No, I'm sorry." I took one of Isaia's hands but kept him a little behind me. Isaia put his head down, as though he was ashamed. His breath whistled in his chest. "Isaia is suddenly not feeling well. I have to take him home."
"Of course, of course. I'm so sorry." Rafaele stumbled to get out of the way. He followed us through to the shop, all the while asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I dug for my phone and texted Giovanni to come back, it was an emergency. My phone dinged immediately and he said he'd meet us in ten minutes.
"Is there something I can do?" Rafaele asked again.
"Do you have water?" I asked, mentally cursing myself. Elda had warned me to keep him hydrated. But he'd had water not that long ago. Was it not enough? Had I been neglectful? Had I brought this on? Guilt burned in my throat.
"Yes, absolutely." He bent over behind the till and opened a small fridge. "This place gets so hot, we'd be crazy not to." He handed me a cold bottle of water.
"Thank you." I opened it and handed it to Isaia. He drank, and winced as though swallowing too much. "Not so fast, darling," I said.
I assured Rafaele that Isaia would be okay, but worry was etched all over my face. My lips trembled. Isaia was most certainly not okay, and he was in my care. Why wouldn't Elda have prepared me better? Was it possible this had never happened before?
"Signorina, please," Rafaele implored as I opened the door. "Leave me your number. I will worry. Text me later that everything is okay. Please?" His request was so sincere and sweet that it gave me pause. If I were him, I'd want to know that everything turned out okay, too. I gave him my number.
I picked Isaia up and strode in the direction of the dock. Each breath he took whistled faintly. We arrived at the dock and I set Isaia down and called Elda. I felt as though I couldn't draw enough breath. Was this what a panic attack felt like? Pull yourself together, Saxony.
"Saxony?" Elda's soft voice made me sigh with relief.
I tried not to sound completely panicked. "Elda, are you able to meet us at home? It's Isaia, he's got a fever."
"Where are you?" She was sharp and all business.
"On Murano. We went to the glass-blowing demo but left early because Isaia..." I paused, the image of his glowing belly swam before me. "Got really hot. Giovanni is on his way to pick us up."
"I'm on my way home now. Get him some cold water, as quick as you can. And if you have something you can make wet, put it on his head to cool him down."
"Yes, okay. See you, soon." The phone went dead.
I squatted in front if Isaia and watched him drink. I reached into the lion's head fountain and pressed my wet hand against Isaia’s forehead. Through all of this he barely took his eyes off me. It was easy to see that he was in pain, but he was so calm that I couldn't help but think that this had happened to him before and he knew it was going to pass.
I looked around to make sure we were alone. "May I?" I took the hem of his t-shirt. He nodded and I lifted it. The glow was still there, but not nearly as bright as before. I smoothed his shirt down and locked eyes with him. The red glow was nowhere to be seen.
I stood up and watched for Giovanni's boat. My heart clattered. What kind of disease makes your torso and eyes glow from the inside out?
Five
The boat ride back was notably tense. Giovanni raced us home as quickly as he dared while I tried to figure out how to tell Elda and Pietro what I had seen. I barely noticed as the boat juddered across the waves. I kept an arm tight around Isaia, who had lain in my lap as soon as we'd gotten into the boat. The glow... I couldn't shake it. It had been real, hadn't it?
We returned to an empty house. I put Isaia into bed and left the covers off. After laying a cool washcloth over his forehead, I took the digital thermometer from the first aid kit in their bathroom. While the thermometer did its work, I fetched a g
lass of water and a glass of ice and set them on his bedside table. After switching his ceiling fan on, I sat beside him and waited, watching his narrow chest rise and fall.
He watched me through half-lidded, unfocused eyes. I flipped the washcloth over, startled by how warm it felt. Time to refresh it. When I returned from the bathroom faucet, I took the thermometer from his mouth. The thermometer gave Celsius only, so even though I could read 72 degrees, I didn't know what it meant. I was accustomed to reading body temps in Fahrenheit. I used my phone to convert the number. When I saw the conversion, I almost dropped my phone. My hands trembled.
"I think this thermometer is broken," I joked nervously to Isaia. "According to this, you're almost hot enough to bake muffins." I put the broken thermometer on the bedside table. If the temperature were right, he would be dead by now.
I looked up what to do for a fever on my phone. "Run a lukewarm bath," I read aloud. I dashed into he bathroom and cranked on the faucets. My hands shook and I thought that I might be sick. I looked at the toilet, trying to decide if my breakfast was actually going to come up or not. I bent and took a few swallows of water from the tap.
I went back to get Isaia as the water filled the tub, taking a moment to watch for the glow. His eyes were glassy but without any hint of red. There was no tantrum, no childlike thrashing, and not a peep of sound. He lay there limply.
"Up we go, buddy. Time for a little bath, okay? This should make you feel better." He wheezed as I carried him to the bathroom. I grit my teeth at the sound, and nausea passed over me again. Was he dying? Where was Elda? What was taking her so long?
I sat on the toilet and held him on my knee. I pulled off his shirt, looking with grim satisfaction to see that the glow was now gone. I got his jean shorts off and lowered him into the water in his underpants. Grabbing a stuffed bath toy, I put it under his head to make him comfortable. "Is that okay?"
He gave the smallest nod and the awful sound of him sucking in breath seemed a little better.
Rapid footsteps pounded on the stairs.
"We're in the bathroom," I yelled, and my went weak with relief.
She burst into the bathroom. "Mama is here." Elda knelt at the tub, her hand going to his forehead. She shot me a grateful look. "Brava, Saxony."
I couldn't bring myself to smile at her praise. My heart had finally stopped lurching out of my chest, but my mind had not slowed in the slightest. What was going on with this kid?
We got him out of the tub and into a pair of pajamas. I watched her sit at his bedside and go through all of the maternal motions that I had been through already - putting a hand on his forehead, placing the cool washcloth on his head, and taking his temperature for a third time. He endured all of it without protest. The thermometer now reported only slightly above normal, but I narrowed my eyes at the thing. I must have read it wrong. Or maybe I'd messed up the conversion?
I explained to Elda that he'd gotten sick at the demo. I stuttered and stalled, trying to figure out how to tell her about the glow. I would sound crazy. Was I crazy? I had already started to doubt what I had seen.
Elda listened quietly. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Three times I opened my mouth to say something about the glow, and three times the words got stuck in my throat.
Isaia watched me struggle with the story the entire time. I'd never felt so conflicted before. Would she think I was lying? Making something up for drama? I didn't know her well enough yet. If she had seen the glow before, she would have told me about it, wouldn't she?
I choked out the story, leaving out the most critical part. I was hoping she might give me some kind of opening that would make me feel better about telling her that her son looked like he was on fire from the inside, but she gave me no such confidence.
"Poor thing, I can see that it's really upset you," Elda said when I had finished stuttering through it. "Don't worry too much, Saxony—this kind of thing is normal for Isaia. I told you that he sometimes gets fevers, and that they pass within a day. You did everything right, and I'm grateful."
We left Isaia to sleep. I found myself wishing that I had thought of taking a photo or a recording of the glow of his belly and his eyes. If it happened again, that's what I would do. Then I would have proof.
Elda was watching me. "You're really shaken, aren't you?"
The way she said it made me think that she had never before seen the glow. My anxiety must have looked like an overreaction to her.
"Sure, I was... I am worried about him," I replied. "How hot does he get, normally?"
She paused, just for a moment. "The usual. Maybe 38.5, 39." She blinked rapidly a couple of times.
She's lying.
I rejected the thought immediately. Of course she wasn't lying. She was his mother. She loved him, and she would arm me—his care-taker—with all the knowledge I needed to look after him. That's how it worked when the health of a child was involved. Right?
I went up to my apartment in a troubled daze. Just as I closed the door behind me, my phone chirped. It was a text from Rafaele.
Everything is okay?
I smiled in spite of my worries. It was thoughtful of him to follow up. I texted back.
Me: He is okay. He had a fever but it’s already gone down. Thanks for asking.
Rafaele: Of course. Poor little guy. Maybe we can finish the demonstration another time. I'll give you a rain check. They say rain check in Canada?
Me: Yes they do. And thank you, Rafaele.
Rafaele: Welcome. And call me Raf.
Me: Okay, but if you call me Sax, I'll kill you.
There was a pause. I hoped he was laughing at my joke.
Raf: Understood.