Flu Season

Chapter 5

Sarah found herself back in the drivers seat finally making her way home after a morbid ordeal. Her heart still pounded through her chest. The image of that man. . . Mr. Nills, the pharmacist called him. To have a heart attack right there at the pharmacy! Sarah shuddered, the feeling of helplessness that moment gave her. It was so sudden and shocking. Never had she been so close to death before. Not even her parents. Her white knuckled fists gripped the cold steering wheel, clenching as she drove home.
Warm tears dripped from moisture clouded eyes, trailing down her cheeks. She would never forget that moment and how it seized her every thought and movement. She'd found herself immobile, not knowing what to do, but Michael slipped his cell phone out immediately and called 911 before the pharmacist even reached the other side of the counter.

Before the house-key even probed the keyhole, whimpers of Tootie from the other side of the door sparked Sarah with sudden concern. Maybe she was overreacting, she wondered, witnessing the poor man at the pharmacy obviously had a tremendous affect on her.
In the distance she could hear the little clicks of Tootie's claws scamper across the laminate flooring toward the front door,. Almost like Tootie was seeking help, help that she couldn't offer.
As Sarah slid the deadbolt into its cave she hushed Tootie, "Hey, hey. It's okay. Where's grandma?"
Little Tootie jumped up and spun a few times then half hopped, half slipped back down the hall. Sarah followed hurriedly, sliding around the corner on socked feet. The bathroom light spilled into the hallway, illuminating her destination.
Then she heard a familiar ugly sound, retching.
"Oh Grandma," she whispered, then with a touch of a finger guided the door all the way open. And there was Grandma, kneeling over the toilet. Her trembling hands hovering over her face. At first glance she appeared to be praying. But Sarah knew better, biting her lower lip she slipped an arm around to support her.
"I'm here. Are you okay?" Sarah bent over, brushed loose strands of hair from Grandma's face and stood her up. The heat from her skin was strong, and evidence of a fever. Though shaky and weak, Grandma gripped Sarah's arm and they made their way to the living room.
"Sit. I'm gonna grab you some warm milk. Or, would you like tea?" Sarah looked over, her eyes large with worry.
"Some milk dear. Stomach is a little unsettled is all. Darn flu shot!"
Hmm, Sarah thought, Flu shot!
With glass of milk in hand, Sarah walked back into the living room finding Grandma curled into the corner of the couch. Her old weathered skin taking on the light shade of grey of the upholstery cradling her limp form.
"I can feel you worrying," Grandma said, looking through slitted eyes. "Don't. There's no need."
A quick comeback almost blurted out of Sarah but then thought better of it, instead she placed the back of her hand to Grandma's forehead. Still burning hot.
"Don't"
"What?"
"I know what you're thinking. You're only seventeen and you think you have everything figured out, but you don't. One day you'll realize this. But you better before it's too late."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean Gram." She bit her lip trying to sound convincing.
"Look. I know you're worried but trust me when I say your worries are unfounded. And I also know who you blame for your parents deaths. Everything isn't always what they may seem... to you that is. Now be off to bed this mature woman needs her rest."
A sad smile crossed Sarah's face, and with a quick swipe her tears fell from her cheek.
Then placed the crocheted afghan from the back of the couch over Gram. It was going to be a long night.
With heavy feet Sarah trudged up to her bedroom, homework slung over a shoulder and worry in her heart.