The Woman in the Back Room (Costa Family)

She'd claimed I only felt that way because I'd been forced to grow up so fast, never having anyone to do anything for me, that I expected my son to be able to act the same way.

Our arguments always ended with us both feeling like we were fucking up.

Since her death, I could really see what an epic fucking waste of time it had all been.

We were both right.

He was a kid. He deserved to be coddled.

But he was growing up to be a man. He needed to learn to do things for himself.

Like make a lady who was important to him some tea, so he felt like he was helping.

"Dad, which one?" he asked, holding up two boxes of tea. Decaf and regular.

"Well, seeing as Alessa slams coffee like a caffeine junkie, I think we can go with the regular black tea," I told him. I was a little worried that she couldn't seem to stay awake.

We got some tea in her.

I managed to get maybe four spoonfuls of soup in her before she pathetically whined that she was too cold to sit up. As if that made any sense at all.

"Dad, you're sure she's okay?" Avi asked as I tucked him in a couple hours later.

"She's going to be okay."

"Maybe I should stay up to watch her," he suggested as he let out a giant yawn. It was already well past his bedtime. He'd insisted on sitting in her room with her, bringing her extra blankets when she said she was cold.

"I will watch her, okay, bud? You sleep. You can pull the morning shift, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding.

"Goodnight, Av," I said, rustling his hair, then getting off his bed, going back into the hall.

I wouldn't say it to him, but I was starting to get worried too. She barely managed to get up to take herself to the bathroom. And when she came back, she practically fell into the bed. Like her legs didn't want to hold her anymore.

I knew I should leave her alone to rest. She'd had enough to drink. She'd eaten a little bit. She wasn't due for any meds yet.

But I couldn't seem to stop myself from going into her room.

Where I found her writhing and mumbling to herself in bed.

"Shit," I hissed, rushing forward, reaching out to touch her.

It was like being scalded.

She was burning up.

The fever was high enough that she seemed like she might be hallucinating.

I didn't know what to do. I was so out of my depths. But for the first time since I was a little, little kid, I did have someone to call.

"Ma, what do I do for a really high fever?" I asked as soon as she answered the phone.

"Ottavio?" she asked, sounding alarmed.

"No. Less. Alessa," I explained. "I think she has the flu. And she's burning up. Maybe even hallucinating."

"Has she had any meds?"

"Yeah."

"Ibuprofen or acetaminophen?"

"Ibuprofen."

"Give her some acetaminophen too. Does she have chills or is she sweating?" she asked.

She'd kicked all the blankets off. Her hair was sticking to her face with her sweat.

"Sweating."

"Okay. Then draw her a lukewarm bath. Lukewarm," she hammered home. "Get her in there. See if that helps. You can do cold compresses too, but only on the forehead or back of the neck. Don't submerge her in cold water."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"If she doesn't seem to be getting better in an hour or so, I would take her to some sort of emergent care center. You don't want to screw around with really high fevers. But if she starts to get better, just keep up with the meds. Alternate them. More lukewarm baths and compresses. And keep her hydrated."

"Alright. Ma, thanks. I didn't know who else to call."

"You can always call me," she said. "Keep me updated," she demanded.

"I will. Thanks again."

"Love you."

"Love you too," I said, still finding the words clumsy on my tongue as I tossed my phone on the dresser, then went into my room to draw a tub.

There was a tub in the bathroom that Less and Avi shared, but mine was bigger. She could really sink into the water.

Once I got the temperature right, I went back into Alessa's room, lifting her into my arms, finding her clothes tacky with sweat.

I placed her on my bed, reaching to yank down one of the three layers of sweatpants she'd pulled on when she had chills.

I'd gotten all three pairs off, leaving her in a pair of black panties I wouldn't let myself look at, then reached to remove the sweater, then sweatshirt she had on.

Which left a tee.

I couldn't tell if she had anything on under.

And I wasn't going to strip her naked when she wasn't fully conscious of what was happening.

So t-shirt and panties it was.

"Oh, hey. You with me?" I asked when I looked up to find her eyes on me. "I'm putting you in the bath," I explained when I got no response, reaching to scoop her up, and carry her into the bathroom. "There," I said as I lowered her into the water. "My mother said this will help," I told her, making sure she was aware enough that I could turn away to get the meds and a cup of water, then making her take those, before soaking a washcloth in cold water, then sitting off the side of the bath platform, and pressing the compress to her forehead for several minutes.