My eyes narrowed.
She frowned at me. “You look like you’re about to give me a lecture.”
Probably because I was—and I’d opened my mouth to do just that when Viera’s voice called out, “I puked!” Sobbing hiccups followed.
Colby was up the stairs in seconds, and I wasn’t far behind her. She scooped up Viera and carried her into the bathroom, where Viera had narrowly missed her target of the toilet and hit part of the shower curtain and the rug.
Tears streamed down her face as she leaned against Colby, her face blotchy. “I want my mommy!”
My stomach thudded to the ground, and my heart followed as Colby held Viera close, ruining her dress with tears and puke. “I do too, honey, I do too.”
I hadn’t expected her to say that.
I’d expected her to say something more logical, like, But your mom’s not here, we are, and I know that’s hard but it’s all you have.
Instead she’d empathized with Viera, in a way that I wouldn’t have but in a way that Viera 100 percent needed. She stopped sobbing and just held Colby close, her chubby fingers gripping at Colby like she was afraid she was going to disappear too.
“Rip.” Colby’s voice jolted me away from my thoughts. “Can you go grab some children’s Tylenol? We’ll need to alternate between that and ibuprofen every four hours… she’s burning up.”
Shocked, I could only stand there and gape. “How do you even know that? Should I look it up and double-check? Actually I can call urgent care and—”
“Just trust me on this, Rip. Please?” Colby’s eyes filled with a look I couldn’t read. “Last time Ben was sick I was staying the night and that’s exactly what the pediatrician said to do when there’s a fever.”
“Sorry,” I rasped. “I’m just…”
“I know.” Colby gave me an already-exhausted smile that basically said neither of us was going to get any sleep that night.
I left them in the bathroom and had started walking down the hall when Ben stumbled out of his room, took one look at me, and hurled all over the floor.
I jerked back and nearly fell down the stairs as he wiped his mouth and mumbled, “S-sorry, Uncle Rip.”
“Bud.” I almost gagged. “It’s fine, you’re sick, does your head hurt?”
“Mmmmm.” He swayed in front of me. “My body hurts.”
“OK, buddy.” I led him into the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, and then we’ll get some medicine in you.”
“What’s wrong?” Colby looked over her shoulder. “Ben, are you OK?”
“He’s sick too.” I pulled his Spider-Man shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, then grabbed a washcloth and wiped his mouth.
He seemed to be handling everything well, but then he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “I want my mom.”
Taking a cue from Colby, I pulled him into my arms and whispered, “Me too, buddy. Me too.”
He burst into tears, his skin hot against mine. Over his head, Colby and I shared a look of utter sadness.
Hopelessness soon followed.
And then Colby took charge, something I’d never seen, like some unknown maternal instinct switch had been flipped.
“Let’s all go into your parents’ old room while Uncle Rip grabs some medicine.” She was already leading them both out of the bathroom while I quickly cleaned up the puke in both locations. I grabbed the medicine from the cabinet downstairs.
By the time I was back upstairs, at least ten minutes had passed, and both kids were sitting against the pillows in their parents’ old bed, their eyes heavy.
“Uncle Rip.” Viera yawned. “Will you come cuddle me?”
“I was just going to ask if I could.” I smiled and held out the syringe of pink medicine. “Open up first.”