THE MAFIA'S NANNY

Chapter 9:FEVER

I got sick Wednesday.

Not cold sick. Home sick. Malaria sick. Real one - shaking, hot, cold, hot again, body pain like someone beat me with stick.

Maria said, "Hospital! Now!"

I said no, I know this body. I had malaria 10 times in Nigeria. Need rest, water, fan off.

But Lorenzo heard from Maria I didn't come for breakfast.

He came through connecting door without knocking, saw me curled under blanket, puffs scattered, sweating, shivering.

"Zara?"

"Sir... I fine... small fever..."

He touched my forehead. His hand jumped back.

"Jesus - you're burning! Maria! Call Dr. Russo! Now!"

"Don't call doctor, sir, it's malaria, it will go-"

"You have malaria in Manhattan? How?"

"Nigerian blood remembers, sir. Mosquito from Queens followed me to mansion."

He didn't laugh. Private doctor came in 15 minutes, scared of Lorenzo, white coat shaking.

Doctor checked. "Likely malaria relapse, stress and new environment. Hydration, Tylenol, rest. Not contagious. She needs sleep."

Lorenzo sat next to bed whole day. Sent Sofia to Maria so she doesn't worry. He put cold towel on my forehead himself. Big mafia boss doing nursing.

At 6 PM fever high. Teeth clacking, shaking.

He covered me with two blankets, pulled me to his chest to warm me. My head on his chest, hearing his heart.

"Why are you so cold if you are burning?" he whispered, rubbing my arms fast.

"Malaria is like that, sir... hot and cold same time..."

"You should have told me morning you were sick."

"I didn't want you to think I am lazy..."

"Lazy?" He laughed, angry. "Zara, you work 18 hours with my daughter, you cook, you braid, you teach her Yoruba. You think I think lazy?"

He brought soup - Italian chicken soup but with pepper, he told chef add extra pepper for me.

I ate small, vomited small. He didn't flinch, wiped my mouth with towel, held my hair back.

At 9 PM fever worst. I was delirious. I don't remember.

Maria told me later what happened.

Maria said I called him Mama and Papa and spoke Yoruba crying. Said "Don't leave me for Queens alone, Papa. Don't leave."

Lorenzo told Maria and Sofia to leave room. He stayed alone.

He held cold towel to my face all night, changed it every 10 minutes. Gave me water with small spoon like baby. Wiped sweat.

At 2 AM, fever broke. Sweat everywhere. Bed wet. I woke a little, saw him.

He was sitting on floor beside bed, head on mattress, holding my hand, sleeping sitting up. Gun on floor beside him - he never puts gun far.

Face tired, beard rough, eyes closed, but still holding my hand tight.

I touched his hair without thinking. Soft.

He woke instantly, alert.

"Zara? You awake? How you feel?"

"Better small... you stayed whole night?"

"Where would I go? To sleep while you burn?"

He helped me sit, gave water. I was in big T-shirt, sweaty, hair messy, no makeup, smelling sick.

He looked at me like I was most beautiful girl in New York.

"You called me Papa," he said quietly.

My eyes wide. "I what?! Sir, sorry, fever talk-"

"You said 'Papa, don't leave me'. And you said 'Mama'."

"I was dreaming about my papa in Nigeria..."

"No," he said softly. "You were calling me."

Silence. Only our breathing and AC humming.

He stood, poured fresh water, sat close on bed again.

"Zara Okoro."

"Yes?"

"You have malaria, 102 fever, and you still apologize for being sick. You worry I think you are lazy. You are 19, you take care of my daughter better than anyone ever did, you slap Rossi for touching your hair, you bring me to Queens to meet your sisters, you cook chin-chin even with fever..."

He cupped my face, hand warm, gentle.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, sir?"

"Making me forget all my Rules. Especially Rule 3."

My heart started beating fast even with fever still in body.

"Lorenzo, I am sick, I am sweating-"

"I know. And I still..."

He leaned slow. Giving me time to push. To say no.

I didn't push.

He kissed me.

Soft kiss. On lips. Just one. Gentle because I was sick. His beard brushed cheek, hand held my face like I would break.

First kiss in America. First kiss in 2 years.

It tasted like water and worry and relief.

He pulled back, eyes searching mine, scared.

"Sorry. I should not kiss sick girl."

"I... I not sick now... fever broke..."

He smiled, forehead touched mine, noses touching.

"You are not sick now?"

"No..."

He kissed again. Second kiss. Longer. Still soft but deeper. Other hand found my waist over blanket, holding.

I kissed back. I don't know how, my hands found his T-shirt, gripped tight.

We stayed foreheads touching, breathing each other, until small knock on connecting door.

"Mama Zara? You still have hot head?" Sofia's small voice.

We jumped apart like teenagers.

Lorenzo stood quickly, fixed shirt, voice hoarse. "Come in, principessa."

Sofia ran in, climbed bed, hugged me tight. "You feel better, Mama? Papa said you have mosquito from Nigeria that followed you."

Lorenzo looked at us - me and his daughter on same bed, both in his big T-shirt - and his eyes did that soft thing.

"Both my girls sick and both my girls in same bed. I should get bigger bed for all of us."

Sofia: "Yes! Sleepover!"

Me: "Sir, that is not appropriate-"

Him: "It's appropriate if doctor says you need monitoring. Medical reason. Very medical."

Medical reason with kiss on lips - okay sir, medical reason.

That night, Sofia slept between us in my bed, small body between our bigger bodies, holding both our hands while snoring small.

Lorenzo didn't try to kiss again. He just held my hand under blanket, tight, while Sofia slept.

And for first time since I entered mafia house, fever didn't feel like malaria.

It felt like love fever.