by Megan Hart
He shook his head and clung to her, even as Sunny tried to find a way to sit next to him without messing up the towels Liesel had put down. She didn’t want to look too far into the garbage can. He clutched at her shirt, and she tried delicately to peel him off her.
“She…she maked me…”
“What, Happy?” Sunny managed to push him away enough so she could look into his face. “Who made you what?”
“He’s upset because I made him put on a Pull-ups,” Liesel said from the doorway. “But he’d messed twice, couldn’t make it in time to the potty—”
Happy let out a wail of shame and buried his face against Sunny’s side. Liesel looked pained. Sunny stroked her son’s hair.
“Shh,” she told him. “It was an accident. Liesel’s not mad.”
“Of course I’m not. Oh, Happy, honey, I’m not mad.” Liesel shook her head, bouncing Bliss a little as the baby whined. “But honey, you couldn’t keep messing in your pants.”
“I’m sorry,” Happy whispered against Sunny’s side. “I tried, Mama. I tried real hard.”
Across the room, an uncharacteristically silent Peace let out a low cry and began to heave. Liesel groaned and went to her. “Over the can, Peace. Lean over!”
Sunny went to get up, but Happy wouldn’t let her go. His shoulders heaved. He let out a hurking gag, and Sunny didn’t spend another second in thought; she grabbed up the garbage can and twisted him around to put it in front of his face. She fought her own gag as the wet splatter of vomit hit the plastic bag, followed immediately by the rancid smell.
Five minutes later, Liesel passed Sunny a fresh roll of paper towels and some Lysol, along with a damp cloth. They worked in silence to clean up both kids while Bliss sat on the floor in between them, alternately wailing and drifting into whimpers. Sunny worked on autopilot, wiping Happy’s face and trying to get him to lie back. Everything reeked, her stomach churned, and all she could think of was how grating the sound of her daughter’s whining was.
“What should we do?” Liesel sounded helpless and looked bleak. She had circles under her eyes and her hair stood in sweaty spikes.
Sunny didn’t feel too great herself. “I don’t know.”
Liesel frowned. “Should we give them some ice or something to suck on? Or Pedialyte? Some ginger ale, maybe. That’s what my mom gave me when I was sick. And saltines. I’ll have to run to the store to get some. What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Sunny repeated, unsure what sort of answer Liesel wanted. Or expected.
“Well…” Liesel carefully wiped her hands with a package of bleach cleaning wipes she normally used for the counters. “What do you usually do when they’re sick?”
Sunny felt as helpless then as Liesel had looked. She shrugged and looked down at Happy, who’d finally closed his eyes. She looked at Peace, who could only stare, her small face wan and pathetic. “I don’t know, they’ve never been sick.”
Chapter 41
“What do you mean, they’ve never been sick? They’re kids! Kids are always sick!” Liesel stank of sweat and puke and shit. She felt more than a little like throwing up herself. She’d been dealing with this for the past four hours and had reached her limit.
Sunny stroked Happy’s hair back from his face. The boy looked as if he’d fallen asleep, which meant he’d probably have another accident. Liesel pushed a toy toward cranky Bliss, who tossed it aside.
“Not like this,” Sunny said. “Never like this.”
She gave Liesel one of those blank stares, and Liesel wanted to smack it off her face. It was wrong, she knew that. Sunny was doing the best she could. It wasn’t her fault the kids had thrown up or shit on nearly everything in the house today.
But they were Sunny’s kids. Not Liesel’s. If anyone should be dealing with this, it was Sunshine.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Liesel said because she didn’t want to say any of the other million things running through her brain. Mean things. Words that weren’t even necessarily true, but would taste so good to spew. “Then I’ll run to the store and pick up some ginger ale and saltines. Popsicles. Some medicine. Stuff like that.”
Not even a shadow of an expression twitched at Sunny’s face. Liesel wanted to shake her just to get a rise out of her. How could she sit there so stone-faced? She should look worried! Or at the least, repulsed by the choking stench in the room.
“Sunny, did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, Liesel. I’m sorry the kids are sick and made a mess.”
Guilt, huge and painful, bopped Liesel on the back of the head…followed a second later by irritation. This was a pattern. Sunny or her children did something that made a mess, caused a scene, was a problem, and she apologized profusely like Liesel was some sort of…stepmonster. Then Liesel told her it was all okay, and she never seemed to believe it, no matter how hard Liesel and Christopher worked to prove to her she and the kids were a welcomed and yes, loved, part of this family.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Liesel repeated. “If they puke, make sure they get it in the cans, I don’t want to have to shampoo my rugs again.”
Fifteen minutes in the shower worked wonders for her psyche. The irritation faded. So did the guilt. Liesel bent her head under the hot, pounding water and let it work the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders. Anybody facing the geysers of sick she’d had to deal with today would’ve reacted the same way she had, if not worse.
She’d hit the store, stock up on everything from hand sanitizer to tummy meds. Surely Christopher would be home in a few hours, and he could help out, too. They’d get through this, and it would be awful and disgusting, but maybe someday they’d look back on it and laugh. Or at least have a story to tell at parties when the topic turned, as it inevitably did, to the worst things that ever happened to you.
Back in the den, though, everything had gotten worse. Sunny held a gagging, choking Bliss over one can while Peace dry heaved into another. Happy wept and moaned from his place on the couch with a fresh wave of stink to show he’d had another accident.
Liesel stopped in the doorway and almost turned and ran away, but instead forced herself to move a couple steps forward. “Oh, no. Bliss, too?”
Sunny looked up, her face haggard. “Yes. She just started. Liesel, they’re really sick.”
“Let me call Christopher again.” Liesel’s stomach sunk and she looked with something like longing toward the hall. The door to the garage. If only she hadn’t taken that shower, she’d have been out the door and gone by now. She’d have had an hour or so of freedom. She could still go. They still needed crackers and ginger ale…but no. She couldn’t just abandon them. “Maybe he can pick up the stuff on his way home from…wherever the hell he is.”
Sunny’s blank look faltered for a moment, but she visibly firmed her mouth and blinked away any hint of tears. “Happy needs a shower. Bliss too, she’s covered in throw up. I can take them both in with me…can you watch Peace? Please?”
The way she said it, like Liesel might refuse, set Liesel’s teeth on edge, though she knew Sunny was only trying to be respectful. “Of course. You go. Let’s do what we can. Peace, honey, let me get you a little water. Just a few sips.”
Half an hour later, none of the kids were better. In fact, they were worse. Bliss had gone glaze-eyed, head lolling. Feverish. Peace slept, but fitfully, and Happy, who almost never cried, now couldn’t stop moaning and weeping.
“I can’t get in touch with Christopher.” Liesel stabbed her phone to disconnect before leaving a third voice mail. “Sunny, we need to think about taking these babies to the emergency room.”
“What?” Sunny looked up, eyes wide. Her hair, still wet from the shower that had been made pointless moments after they got out when both kids were sick again, clung to her cheeks. “No!”
/> “Hon, they’re very sick.” Liesel sat next to Peace and put a hand on her forehead. Burning up. “This is more than just a stomach bug. It might be food poisoning.”
“What do you mean, food poisoning?” Sunny’s voice caught and she swallowed hard. She scraped her hair back from her face and pulled the tangled, sopping mess on top of her head to secure it with an elastic band. “Corn syrup? Did they eat toxins?”
Sunny looked blank. Liesel thought of how when they first arrived, all three of them had been so cautious with every sip, every bite, carefully tasting everything before they ate it. More irritation pricked at Liesel. Surely the girl had heard of food poisoning that had nothing to do with her mythical and overblown fear of corn syrup.
“No. When food goes bad, like when it spoils. Like past the expiration date, or something that hasn’t been properly refrigerated.”
Recognition dawned in Sunny’s eyes. Then a flash of something else Liesel couldn’t interpret. “Spoiled food could make them sick like this.”
“Of course it could!” Liesel snapped.
Then remembered.
“Christ, Sunny. The food under the beds. Did you have anything in there that could go bad? Make the kids sick?”
“I don’t…I don’t know—”
“Why do you even do that?” Liesel cried. “It’s not like we don’t feed you, for God’s sake! I mean, I never asked because I figured it was just one more of those weird things you did, but good Lord, Sunny…for someone who has a bug up her ass about what she puts in her kids’ mouths, you really don’t make any sort of sense, sometimes!”
“It was in case!” Sunny shouted.
Happy stirred on the couch with a moan, and Bliss, who’d been dozing in her lap, startled awake with a scream.
“In case of what?”
“Just in case,” Sunny said. “In case we needed it. I know it was stupid, Liesel, I’m sorry—”
“Stop being so goddamn sorry about everything!” The words bit out of her like a dog snapping. “I’m sick of it, Sunny! You act like you think me and your dad are going to toss you out on your asses for every little thing, and then you pull a stunt like that…hoarding food…that’s just crazy!”
“I’m not crazy!” Sunny shouted. She looked at the baby in her lap. “Hush, Bliss. Hush!”
But the baby would not be hushed. Nor would Peace and Happy. Sunny looked at all three of her children with frantic eyes, then at Liesel. Liesel wanted to put her face in her hands and scream herself. Scream herself raw.
Instead, she took a shallow breath of stinking air and focused. “We need to take them to the emergency room and get some fluids into them or something. They’re too sick. We can’t deal with this. You get them ready, I’m going to call Christopher again and tell him to meet us there.”
“No.” Sunny shook her head without looking at Liesel, her attention on the screaming baby. “Hush, Bliss. Mama says hush. Now!”
Liesel got on the floor beside her to squeeze her shoulder. “Sunny. Stop it. She’s not going to stop crying, she’s sick. We have to take them—”
“No!” Sunny shouted.
Spittle flew onto Liesel’s cheek. Disgusted, she swiped at it. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“No hospital. No emergency room! It’s where the blemished go!”
“Well, I have news for you, Sunshine,” Liesel said. “You’re all blemished now.”
Chapter 42
Sunny is seven years old. Maybe eight. She’s found a kitten in the yard back by the greenhouses, close to the fence where she knows she shouldn’t go, but Fleur has been in the grass with Henry for a long time, not paying any attention to the kids she’s supposed to be watching. Patience is the one who told Sunny there were kittens, and now Patience stands in the dirt next to the fence and scuffs it with her bare toes.
“What’s the matter with it?” Sunny squats to poke the kitten with her finger. It’s so tiny it would fit just right into her hand, but she doesn’t pick it up. Are they like baby bunnies? If you touch them, will the mother not come back? Why don’t the other kitty mothers take care of the babies, then, the way mothers here all take turns with the kids?
“It’s probably hungry.” Patience is always hungry. She’s got a fat face, fat belly, fat arms. Fat legs. She sneaks into the kitchen when she’s not supposed to and eats snacks. Her mama’s bondmate works in the kitchen, and he doesn’t tell.
He’d make a report if he knew Sunny was the one sneaking something to eat. She presses her tummy now. The air’s hot on her skin as she bends forward to study the kitten. Its eyes are closed. Tiny little paws press to its tiny nose. It has a little tail. The kitten is orange, and Sunny wants to cuddle it.
“So, let’s feed it,” she says.
Patience makes a face. “You can’t, stupid. You don’t have any milk for it.”
If Sunny told Papa that Patience called her stupid, Patience would get into bad trouble. A switching, for sure. Sunny should make a report, but she’s sure she’ll forget by the time Papa asks if anyone has anything to tell. Patience won’t forget anything, though. Sometimes, Sunny knows, Patience makes stuff up just to get the other kids in trouble.
Sunny stands and looks across the grass to where Fleur and Henry are still on the blanket. They’ve been doing the sex for a long time. It looks pretty boring. All that rolling around. But at least it means Sunny and Patience can come back here to the fence to see this kitten. The other kids are all playing crosses and naughts in the sandbox, and some of them are even taking naps.
Sunny yawns. Last night they woke everyone up to go to the chapel, but thinking of it now makes her tummy hurt, so she doesn’t. She wants to look at the kitten, not think about drinking the rainbow. Papa says going through the gates won’t hurt at all, but it still sounds scary.
“Kittens drink milk?” Sunny asks.
“Sure. Just like babies, do, dummy.”
Patience has a mean mouth. Sunny frowns. She touches the kitten with her fingertip. It mews. “So. We should get it some milk.”
“It has to come from the mother cat.”
Sunny stands again to look around. This kitten is in a little nest made of grass tucked up against the fence. There are lots of cats around, but none right now. It’s the only baby kitten in the grass, and it’s all alone.
She doesn’t think twice about it. Sunny scoops up the kitten in one palm and cradles it next to her body. Its tiny mouth opens as it wriggles against her shirt. Soft fur. The kitten’s warm. Sunny strokes it. She loves it.
“You’d better put that back!”
She looks at Patience. “It’s hungry, and if we don’t feed it, it will die.”
She knows that much. People need to eat. Kittens, too. Her own tummy growls with hunger, but they’ve already had their lunch and it’s a long time until dinner. Oatmeal, that’s what they had today. One bowl. It wasn’t enough.
“You can get us some milk,” she says to Patience. “Right?”
Patience’s nose scrunches as she considers this. She bends over the kitten in Sunny’s hands. Patience touches it, too, and coos over how soft it is.
“Yes. I guess so. But we have to be secret.”
Sunny nods. She knows that. Animals aren’t allowed inside the building. Just the barn and greenhouses to keep out mice. Papa used to have a dog named Jingles who liked to bark and growl, but he died.
“Patience,” Sunny says as she follows the older girl around the back of the main building to the kitchen door. “Can animals go through the gates?”
Patience pulls open the door and stops to look back at Sunny. She laughs. “No way.”
“Papa’s dog. John Second said he gave the dog the rainbow.” Sunny had heard him talking to her mama one night late when they
were in bed together. About how he’d crushed up all the pills and put them in the juice. They always talked about things when they thought Sunny was asleep, and she almost never was.
In the cool dimness of the hallway leading to the kitchen, Patience stops to look at Sunny. “You’re a liar.”
Sunny blinks at this, taken aback. Her mouth opens. Tears burn in her eyes and before she can hush, they slip out and burn a path on her cheeks. Patience laughs, pokes her. Pinches hard to bring more tears. The kitten in Sunny’s hands wiggles and cries when she squeezes it too hard.
“Liar’s tongue, liar’s tongue,” Patience says, still pinching Sunny’s arm.
It hurts so bad, but Sunny twists away from Patience’s grip. The words hurt worse. “Not!”
Sunny’s never told a lie in her life. Those with liar’s tongues can’t go through the gates, that’s what Papa says, and she believes it. She pushes away Patience’s hands. “I heard him!”
Patience has big brown eyes. They flash now in the shadows. “John Second wouldn’t.”
He’d said he did. He’d laughed, too. Mama hadn’t. She’d said his name all sad, called him Jack the way she did when they were doing the sex. If she’d talked to Sunny that way, it would’ve made Sunny want to cry or expect the stick, but John Second had only done things to her mama that stopped her from crying and Sunny’d gotten bored and sleepy and turned her face to the wall.
But she knew he’d said it, and she knew John Second didn’t speak with a liar’s tongue. He couldn’t. He was Papa’s first true son.
“Come on.” Patience pushes open the swinging doors to the kitchen and peeks around.
It’s quiet inside. It smells good. Sunny’s tummy rumbles again. The kitten mews, and Sunny puts her hand over its mouth to keep it from being too loud. There’s nobody in here, though. That’s good. They’d get in bad trouble for leaving Fleur when she’s supposed to be watching them, even though she’s not. And bad trouble for bringing an animal inside. And bad trouble for being in the kitchen.