“What did you do?”
“Nothin’.” She lied; smiling as she peered at the walls.
“I’ll fill you in on what she did,” Tyrone interjected, joining the conversation. “She was helping me paint the deck—doing a splendid job—until she had a great idea to pull a prank on me.” He paused, staring at her bright hazel eyes. “Your lovely angel took my paint brush while I came in to use the bathroom to paint her tongue red.”
Nevaeh interrupted him, “I thought it would be funny to trick him into thinking I bit it and made it bleed.”
“Yeah, but there’s more. She realized how awful it tasted so she ran inside and grabbed the mouth rinse to wash her mouth out.” Tyrone began laughing so hard, it prevented him from continuing with the story.
“She took a swig of it and swooshed it around her mouth,” Lorraine continued. “Only except, it wasn’t mouthwash—it was peroxide. Once she started foaming at the mouth, she spit a mixture of paint and peroxide all over the bathroom counter!”
At this point, we were all laughing hysterically.
“Ah, that’s my little Nevaeh.” I boasted as I ruffled my child’s hair.
“I’m just glad she pulls most of her stunts while she’s with you,” Lorraine laughed.
After we had gathered up all of her things, we headed home, following our usual nightly ritual of a bath and a bedtime story before I put her to sleep. I laid in bed that night contemplating if I would call Dale the next evening once Nevaeh was settled in for the night. Surely a few days wouldn’t make me seem desperate, I thought. Soon, I dozed off with the remote control still in my hand.
In the morning, I was surprised that Nevaeh hadn’t run into my room to wake me up. Normally she was up before my alarm clock sounded off. She must be zonked, I theorized as I climbed out of bed to go check on her. When I opened Nevaeh’s door, I found her curled up, crying.
“What’s wrong baby?” I wondered as I sat down beside her.
“Momma, it’s my knees again. They hurt so badly, and my back too.”
“Is it as bad as it was before?”
“Yes, but worse! My toes and ankles are sore, too.” She cried as I pulled the covers down to determine if the swelling had come back.
It had. Her knees were the same as before, but this time, her ankles and feet looked swollen too. I placed my hand on her forehead to see if the fever had returned, and it had.
“I don’t know honey. Were you kneeling down or squatting when you helped Uncle Tyrone paint the porch yesterday?” I asked her.
“No, I was sitting next to him on the steps.”
“Hm. I’ll get your ibuprofen. It seemed to help the last time.” I implied, getting off the bed.
When I returned, Nevaeh told me more. “Momma, if I tell you something, do you promise you won’t think I’m crazy?”
“No baby, what is it?” I insisted.
“My fingers hurt too.”
“Your fingers?” I picked up her hand to examine it.
They didn’t appear swollen. I had no clue what would cause all of these different symptoms.
“Okay, you take this and I’ll phone the doctor. Here, open up,” I ordered as I administered the dose of medication.
Before I hopped in the shower for work, I called the doctor’s office. They weren’t open yet, I’d have to wait until it was closer to the time we’d leave. I rushed around, getting both of us dressed and out the door. In the car, I tried once more while on my way to Lorraine’s house.
“Dr. Herber’s office, this is Janice. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Janice. This is Kimberly Harris again. Dr. Herber examined Nevaeh last week and said that he thought it was a bug or something, but her symptoms have returned and now she’s complaining that her fingers hurt. Is it possible to get her in this week?”
Janice looked over the schedule. “Yes, we have an opening on Friday at noon. How does that sound?”
I hesitated for a moment. I knew that I was scheduled that day and my boss gave me hell for attempting to take off the week before. I quickly decided that I would see if Lorraine would drive her to the appointment. “Yes, that’ll be okay. I have to work so can my best friend bring her?”
“Sure, no problem.”
When I dropped Nevaeh off, I told Lorraine how the symptoms had returned and explained the Friday appointment. She agreed that she would take her.
While working, I worried about her all day. I also thought about how much these doctor appointments would affect my bank account. Since business had died down and my tips had dwindled, I was only clearing around a thousand dollars a month. We were barely scraping by as it was. While I was grateful that my friend didn’t charge me for babysitting, I felt guilty that I had her running all over town taking Nevaeh to her doctor appointment. On this particular afternoon, I was glad that the restaurant was slow. I had so much on my mind. There was my sick child, the worrisome bills and the billionaire—whom I couldn’t stop thinking about.