Queen Esther & the Second Graders of Doom. Allie Pleiter
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I know no one wants to do.”
“Okay, good. Three of them it is. Thanks for the tip.”
Essie noticed the pharmacist, who now seemed infinitely friendlier, was looking at her with an odd, knowing expression.
“How many chocolate bars do you want me to put in the bag with that medicine?” She winked. Really, she winked. It made her look like a great, gray owl with those magnified eyes.
Surprised into honesty, Essie blurted out, “How many is the norm?”
“I’ve seen one mom take eight. Of course, that was a case of scarlet fever, so extreme measures were called for. I don’t usually recommend that many.”
Scarlet fever? Didn’t people get that in Dickens novels or something?
“I’ll take four.” Just then Josh let out an ear-splitting wail. “Five.”
The pharmacist dropped the bars in the bag and leaned over to see the source of the five-alarm screech. “He’ll be a new man by tomorrow, you’ll see. This stuff works wonders.”
“The chocolate or the medicine?”
“Same thing in my book, sweetie. I’m a bar-a-day chocoholic myself. Don’t forget your keys.”
Doctor Martin was right. Amoxicillin did get everywhere. It looked and smelled like Pepto-Bismol, and trying to get it into squirming, wailing Josh’s mouth with that baster thing felt more like target practice than medical care. This child, who had no practical use of his hands yet, seemed to acquire perfect aim and swatted the medicine away just as it hit his mouth. Should any of it actually make it into his mouth—which should have been simple because it was open in a non-stop screech during this procedure—he coughed and sputtered it back out in a shower of pink drops.
Finally, Essie fell back on deception as a tactic. She nestled him in her arms as if to nurse him, which of course sent him into instant sucking mode. Before he knew what hit him, she snuck the tip of the medicine dropper-thing into his mouth and gave the bulb an authoritative squirt. He coughed, and sputtered, but this time the actual majority of medicine remained in the baby, where it belonged.
The rest, though, was just about everywhere. By the time they were done with both medicine and baby aspirin, Josh’s onesie had more pink than its original blue. He was verging on sticky from all the drips, and Essie’s shirt was beyond repair.
But he calmed. When he produced a yawn—an actual, nonwailing yawn—Essie set the world’s speed record for quick baby wash-down and insertion into a clean onesie.
And the child slept. The silence was the most beautiful sound Essie had ever heard.
She threw her dank shirt off, grabbed a T-shirt of Doug’s and collapsed on the couch. A glance at her watch told her over two hours had gone by when the phone woke her up.
“Hello?”
“Essie?”
“Anna! Oh, Anna, God must have known I needed to hear your voice today. It’s wonderful to hear from you.”
“Essie, no offense, but you sound awful. How’s life on the other side of the continent?”
Even though she’d had enough sleep to take the edge off, Essie burst into tears. “Awful. Josh has ear infections and I haven’t slept and Doug’s been working late.”
“Ear infections, ugh. Josh is going to be one of those, huh? Danny was one. That’s rough—I’m sorry you’re having such a tough go of it.”
Essie nudged the box of tissues on the floor with her foot until she pulled it within reach. “How come nobody tells you this stuff? It’s so hard….” Essie was trying to cry as quietly as possible, desperate not to wake Josh. She’d even stuffed the phone under her pillow so that only she would hear it ring. She walked out onto the back balcony, thanking God—again—for giving someone the idea for the cordless phone. “I miss you—all of you—so much.”
Essie could hear Anna’s voice catch. “I’d give anything to be able to pile in the car and come over there right this minute. I hate it that you’re so far away.”
“Me, too.” It was more sob than sentence.
“But you know, Essie, this is where you’re supposed to be right now. We went over this so many times. You’re supposed to be in San Francisco. Your family needs you. But I hate it all the same.”
Essie wished she had a pink medicine to make the ache in her heart go away. “I just can’t see how it’s good now. I remember being so sure.” She ran her hand along the curved edge of the toy box Doug was building out here. “Now I’m not sure at all. Wait a minute…I needed to get the monitor thing, Anna, sorry.”
“Monitor? How big is your apartment, anyway? I thought Doug told us it seemed like he could only afford something the size of a two-car garage out there.”
“Very funny.” Essie was glad to hear one of Anna Miller’s wisecracks. She missed her more than she realized. “I need to know he’s okay while I’m out here on the deck.”
“He’s got Walker-powered lungs. I could probably here him over here.”
“Oh, yeah?” Essie found herself smiling, just a bit. “Well, then you didn’t get any sleep last night, either, did you?”
“Okay,” Anna relented. “Okay. Is he doing better?”
“I’ve learned how hard it is to get amoxicillin from the bottle and into the baby, if that’s what you mean. It’s working—he’s finally sleeping. I even got to sleep.”
“I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry.”
“No,” sighed Essie, easing herself into the Adirondack chair and wishing with every cell in her body that Anna was on the chair next to her and they were in New Jersey again. “No, I’m really glad to hear your voice. I’d have been sick if I missed your call.”
“Listen, I’m sorry things are lousy right now, but I have some good news—it’s one of the reasons I called.”
“I could use good news right now.”
“Kevin was at some athletic thing last night, one of those association meetings or whatever those monthly things are, and he ran into someone.”
“Yeah?”
“Some former college buddy who knows a bunch of people out in California. Essie, he says he knows of a junior college right by you looking for a women’s track coach. Starting in February. Isn’t that when you said you would need to go back to work?”
Essie took a deep breath. “It’s too early to be making those kinds of plans. I’m lucky to be walking and talking these days, much less launching a job search.”
“This could be God working things out for you. Think about it—what are the chances of Kevin bumping into this guy and hearing this kind of information?”
“No, you’re right, it does sound like it’s worth checking into.” Essie thought that last bit sounded less comatose.
“Good. Check your e-mail tonight. Kevin is sending the details. And I want photos of my little godson. He must be growing like a weed by now.”
“At the moment, he’s just growing viruses. Well, I do think he’s up a pound or two. I didn’t take much notice at the doctor’s this morning.”
“You found a good doctor?”
“Yes, he seems great. Your standard nice-old-guy pediatrician.”
“You mean they don’t all look like George Clooney out there?”
“I wish. No, this guy looks closer to Ed Asner. Or that oatmeal spokesman—what’s his name?”
“Beats me, I’m strictly a toast kind of woman. But I think I know the