by A. L. Knorr
"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. What kind of illness was this? What could make a kid glow from the inside out and make him so hot that he should be dead by now?
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 had 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. I breathed thanks that he wasn't far away.
"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 began to drink. He winced as though swallowing too much. "Not so fast, darling," I said.
I assured Rafaele that Isaia would be okay, but I knew that 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?
Chapter 5
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 glass 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 limbs felt 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 pushed the thought away violently. Of course she wasn't lying. She was his mother. She loved him, and she would arm me—his au pair—with all the knowledge I needed to care for 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. *Smile*
I rubbed my hands over my eyes. Not even my first week in and already there was some crazy drama, as well as a cute boy. I had something to write home about now. But if I told my friends about Isaia, there was no way they'd believe me. I was already the drama queen in our group. When I was younger, I’d tended to exaggerate, and that bad habit had come back to bite me in the ass. Now I felt like I had to earn my credibility again. I couldn't do that by telling crazy stories about a little boy whose eyes and stomach glowed red.
I began to research glowing eyes and glowing skin on the internet. I got a whole load of links to graphic design websites, fantasy stories, movies and tv shows with demonic and angelic characters, and vampire fan sites. Nothing remotely medical or helpful surfaced.
I turned off my phone and stared at nothing. All I could see was Isaia's glowing belly, the shadows of his ribs lining his skin. I shuddered. How was I going to talk to Elda and Pietro about what I'd seen without sounding like a crazy person?
Chapter 6
I woke the morning of my first day off feeling groggy and troubled. A day enjoying Venice would be the perfect distraction. I tucked my map and phone into my purse, determined not to use them unless absolutely necessary. I knew where we were in general, and which direction I had to go to find Piazza San Marco.
Once outside, I began to walk. As I got closer, the calle became choked with tourists and my pace slowed considerably.
I passed a cute cafe that looked like it had once been a car from a vintage train. The semi-circular window displayed crisp looking salads, mozzarella balls, toasted bruschetta, deep fried frutta di mare, and a host of brioche and pastries. I stepped out of the river of tourists and slipped through the narrow doorway.
"Prego," said the frizzy-haired waitress behind the counter.
"Uno cappuccino, per favore," I stumbled through the words. Nearly every Italian working in Venice spoke English, but I wanted to at least try to pick up some Italian.
"Si, due minuti."
The waitress brought my coffee and I squeezed myself into a table.
I pulled out my phone and looked for a second time at the photos that Targa and Georjayna had texted. Targa had sent through a collection of images of the mansion on the Baltic, a couple of selfies in front of artwork, and one of a handsome young man gazing up at a sculpture of a knight. It was obvious she'd taken it without him realizing it. He looked like a naval officer - short blond hair, lean and fit, naval jacket, and fine bones in his face. I wondered if Targa was finally feeling chemistry with this guy - Antoni. As far as I knew, she'd never had a genuine crush.
I scrolled over to Georjayna's images. These were of breathtakingly gorgeous gardens and a Victorian house. But again, I was more interested in the shot she'd sent of her adopted cousin. She'd snapped it from across the lawn - he was carrying a bunch of broken window frames. I zoomed in and shook my head. He was drop dead gorgeous. Too bad he wasn't very friendly.
"Tutto bene?" the waitress asked, startling me. Clearly, it was time to leave the table for someone else to enjoy.
"Si, grazie." I dropped my phone into my bag. "Which way to the Basilica?" It had to be close.
"To the right and to the right again. You are only a few steps away," she answered.
After thanking her, I rejoined the crush of people on the street. Less than two minutes later, I stepped out into the iconic Piazza San Marco.
My breath caught in my throat and vertigo swept over me. Thousands of white pillars lined the square. The piazza was heaving with people - taking photos, selling trinkets, standing in queues. The Basilica loomed over it all with 4 gorgeous white horses that looked as though they might gallop right off the roof. An orchestra played across the square and I crossed to them, dodging children and pigeon poo.
Moving slowly through the crowd toward the ocean, I reached the sea. The view took my breath away. I took out my phone and snapped a bunch of photos. I walked, enjoying the view of the canal even though it was crowded with gondolas, water busses, and boats. As I was leaning with my elbows on the thick railing and watching a gondola float underneath the bridge, a feminine voice addressed me.
I turned to see a young woman with short brown hair. She had a few coins in her hand and a pleading look on her face. She spoke rapidly in Italian.
"Non parle Italiano," I said.
"Ah, you're American."
"Canadian."
"Bellissima," she said. "Please, I don't normally do this, but, do you have eighty cents?"
I appraised her. Clean clothes, a fresh haircut, deftly applied makeup. Her blue eyeliner outlined her green eyes perfectly. Her ballet flats looked brand new. She was definitely not indigent. It was strange that she was asking me for only eighty cents.
"I might," I said. "Are you okay?"
"I am, I just lost my wallet," she explained. "I think I know where I left it, but I have a job interview close to Piazzale Roma and I don't have time to go back. I have to catch the next waterbus or I will lose my chance." She pointed to the waterbus as it pulled up to the dock. The sign said she had only a few minutes before it left and that it was indeed destined for Piazzale Roma.
"That really sucks." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a euro. "Good luck with your job interview, I hope you make it."
"Oh, thank you! Grazie mille!" she cried, taking the coin. "What is your name?"
"Saxony. What's yours?"
"Federica, but Fed to my friends. A very pleasure to meet you, however short our meeting. You are very nice." She
held out her hand and we shook. She walked quickly toward the waterbus. Turning back, she called, "If I get the job it will be thanks to you! Come visit me at the Gelateria Artigianale, close to the CO-OP beside Piazzale Roma." She waved.
I waved back. "I will."
She disappeared into the crowd and I continued on my way, wondering if I might have made myself a friend. As I walked in the direction of home, the greenery increased. Wisteria dripped over the tops of balconies and roses blossomed behind spindles of stone. I held up my phone to take a photo when a text flashed on my screen.
Raf: Ciao Saxony. How is Isaia today?
Me: Ciao Raf. Much better. You are sweet to inquire.
Raf: Bene. Glad to hear it. What are you doing?
Me: Playing tourist. You?
Raf: Working. But I have another question for you.
Me: Tell me.
Raf: I have tickets to a presentation on the history of glass blowing tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to join me? I thought you might like it.
It took me precisely half a second to make the decision and I smiled as I typed. If I hadn't been so distracted thinking about Isaia, I might have been daydreaming about Raf's dimples.
Me: Absolutely. A che ora?
Raf: So, you are learning some Italian after all?
Me: Si, pochino.
Raf: How about 16:40 at the Bridge of Sighs. You know it?
Me: Surprisingly, I do.
I had passed it ten minutes earlier. It was called the Bridge of Sighs because criminals being escorted to their prison cells had to pass under it on their way to jail. They would sigh because they knew they were caught and the sound would echo under the bridge.
Raf: Good. See you then.
I grinned. I had a date with a cute Italian man. Which, let’s be honest, was one of the reasons I’d wanted to come to Italy in the first place.