Wives Behind The Scene

High Fever

Maya

A heavy, unnatural quiet pulled me from sleep.

My eyes blinked open against the dim evening light filtering through the living room blinds. The house was freezing, the air conditioning humming a low, steady drone that made the silence feel even more absolute. I was still pinned to the armchair, my limbs heavy and stiff.

I looked down. My infant son, Leo, was still draped across my chest. He had fallen asleep while nursing, but something felt wrong. He wasn't shifting. He wasn't making those soft, rhythmic snuffling sounds that usually filled the quiet room.

"Leo?" I whispered, my voice thick with sleep.

I nudged his tiny shoulder. His head rolled slightly, but his limbs stayed entirely loose. Panic, cold and sharp, spiked through my chest. I pressed the palm of my hand flat against his back, then his forehead.

He was burning. His skin radiated a dry, terrifying heat.

"Oh God. Leo, wake up." My voice cracked. I shook him a little harder, my heart slamming against my ribs. His small eyelids fluttered, letting out a weak whimper, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to open his eyes.

I scrambled out of the chair, cradling his scorching body against my shoulder. "Marvin!" I called out, my eyes sweeping the shadowed living room. The plastic plate he had been holding earlier lay abandoned on the rug. "Marvin, where are you?"

No answer.

Carrying Leo tightly, I sprinted down the hallway. My eyes darted around until I spotted a small shadow curled up on the rug near the base of the bed. Marvin had fallen asleep on the floor, clutching his stuffed bear.

"Marvin, get up, sweetie. Mommy needs you to get up right now," I pleaded, my voice rising. I reached down with one arm, pulling him up. He blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes and starting to whine as I urged him along.

With my free hand, I grabbed my phone from the mirror stand. My fingers shook so violently I almost dropped it. I hit Calvin's speed dial, pressing the phone to my ear as I rushed back toward the living room to grab the baby carrier.

“The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

"No, no, no. Pick up. Please," I muttered, hitting redial.

“The number you are trying to reach is—”

I cut it off, shoving the phone into my pocket. I tore open the nightstand drawer and blindly grabbed a plastic bank card, not even checking which account it belonged to, before running out the door.

Ten minutes later, I was sprinting through the automatic sliding doors of the hospital emergency room. I was completely unraveled. I hadn't even looked in a mirror. I was wearing two different rubber slippers—one pink, one grey—and my oversized shirt was prominently stained with milk and sweat. Marvin was heavy in my left hand, his small legs dragging as I pulled him along, while Leo was strapped securely to my chest.

I slammed my hand onto the reception counter, gasping for air. "Please. I need help. My baby—he’s burning up. He won't wake up properly."

The two nurses behind the desk looked up. Their eyes traveled slowly from my mismatched shoes up to the stains on my shirt, their expressions dropping into a look of clinical pity.

"Ma'am, please calm down," the older nurse said with a patronizing calm. "We need you to fill out these intake forms first."

"Yes, but he's too hot! Just touch him!" I cried, nearly hysterical. "Look at him!"

A young doctor in green scrubs emerged from the double doors. He took one look at Leo’s flushed face and immediately stepped forward.

"I'll take him into triage right now. Follow me," the doctor ordered.

They ushered us into a small, sterile ward. The doctor gently laid Leo onto the examination table, immediately checking his vitals.

"Mama, loud," Marvin whimpered, tugging on my jeans, frightened by the bright medical lights and the beep of the machines. "Want home."

"Shh, Marvin, stay close to Mommy," I urged, wrapping an arm around his trembling shoulders while my eyes stayed locked on the doctor.

"Doctor, what is it? please tell me he is going to be okay?"

The doctor looked at the readings, then gave me a reassuring smile. "His fever is high, but his oxygen levels are stable. It looks like an acute viral infection, but we can manage this. We are going to start him on fluids to bring that fever down immediately."

I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for an hour. "Thank God. Okay. Whatever he needs."

"But before we admit him to the short-stay unit, the hospital requires a standard priority deposit," the doctor said, pointing toward the door.

"A deposit, okay. I have my bank card here. Where do I get to pay?" I asked quickly.

"You can pay right out front at the counter," he replied.

I hurried back out to the reception area, dragging Marvin along. He was still crying softly, completely overwhelmed. I approached the counter, pulling the card from my pocket. "I want to make the payment for my son, Leo."

The receptionist adjusted her glasses. "Alright. That will be the administrative and triage deposit."

"Yes, yes, use this card," I said, handing it over.

The nurse took the card, flashing a standard, polite smile, and swiped it through the machine.

A sharp, metallic beep echoed through the lobby.

She tried it a second time. The machine let out the same harsh tone. My chest tightened as I tried to look over the counter, wondering what was happening.

After the second try, the nurse came back to the glass, her smile completely gone. "I'm sorry, ma'am. This card says insufficient funds."

I stared at the card as she handed it back. The realization hit me like a physical blow. Oh God, I took the wrong card. This was the old account we barely used anymore. "Oh God. What am I going to do?" I muttered under my breath.

Desperate, I pulled out my phone again. My hands shook as I dialed Calvin's number once more. Please ring. Please, just this once.

The line began to ring and a quiet praise went up in my heart. "Thank God".

While I was standing there, waiting for him to pick up, the heavy glass entrance doors slid open as the sharp, rhythmic sound of high heels clicked loudly against the polished floor.

I looked over my shoulder.

To see a woman stride into the area, completely arresting the room. She was wearing a stunning, tailored crimson coat over a sleek black dress, her presence commanding attention. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and her makeup was flawless. She smelled of expensive perfume, a rich scent that instantly cut through the sour smell of antiseptic in the lobby.

The receptionists instantly straightened up. The nurse who had just been cold to me suddenly flashed a wide, star-struck smile. The kind of look they gave this woman was entirely different from the way they had looked down at me.

I took a painful moment to look at her—admiring her effortless grace, her pristine clothes—and then I looked down at myself. My mismatched slippers. The breast milk stains on my shirt. The unwashed hair tied in a messy bun. And an overwhelming wave of shame crashed over me. I used to be the one who wore the beautiful clothes. I used to be the actress people looked at with admiration. Now, I looked like a zombie.

Suddenly, a loud click sounded in my ear, cutting through my thoughts.

"Maya?" Calvin’s voice came through the line. He sounded completely exhausted, his tone dropping into a sharp, irritated growl before I could even say hell "I told you I'm at work. Can't this wait?"