I have to think fast. My best bet: head directly to the pediatrician.
CHAPTER 31
I ZOOM BACK ONTO the highway.
It’s the height of rush hour. Everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere else. If I thought myBABY ON BOARDsticker would buy me any special treatment—ha! This is New York. It might as well sayHONK IF YOU’RE BEHIND ME.
Lily is still screaming in the car seat, and the dogs are beginning to whine. I don’t blame them. Every time I see an opening that might save me an extra second or two, I switch lanes. The two dogs get tossed around like beanbags.
When I’m not changing lanes, I’m zigzagging to avoid bicyclists. Haven’t they heard of the new bike lanes? Cars are honking at me from both sides. The noise frightensLily, who stops crying and starts howling, scaring the dogs, who start howling too. First Emily, then Dickinson. No. Wait. Wrong writer. First Jane, then Austen. Or did Austen howl first? What does it matter?
I’ve got to get a grip.
I’m holding the steering wheel like my old driver’s ed teacher taught me, hands at ten and two. But both hands are sweating. Actually, my whole body is sweating, even with the air-conditioning on. It’s this damn bodysuit. Sounds like something I might have learned in Chemistry 101:Fear plus rubber equals water.
I look at Lily in the rearview mirror. Her face is all scrunched up, and tiny tears are sliding down her cheeks. Oh, how I wish I could turn around and comfort her. But that would be crazy, even if I wasn’t going over the speed limit. With any luck, a cop will stop me and I can request a police escort.
But to where? I don’t know where I’m going! I don’t know the pediatrician’s name or address. I remember Amber once saying it’s across the street from that tumbling place we go to. I’m hoping at some point something will begin to look familiar.
Lily is still screeching. I try to soothe her by yelling some gentle words. “Poor baby—I know you’re in pain.” (Is she?) “Don’t worry. I know you’ll be fine.” (Will she?) “Calm down,” I tell her and myself. “We’re almost there.” (Are we? I’m not sure. All I know is that we’re heading north, the right direction.)
Maybe a song would be better. That’s how I wind up singing “Hush, Little Baby” at the top of my lungs.
Now Lily is sniffling. Oh God. Is she gasping for breath? Is she having trouble breathing?
And then, there it is:FAIRFAX ROAD, 1 MILE.The exit I’m supposed to take! It’s all coming back to me. I’m feeling a little less anxious even as I begin to smell a bowel movement. Could be the dogs. Could be Lily. Could be me.
In just a few minutes I pull up in front of the doctor’s office and park in a spot labeledRESERVED. Getting a ticket or getting towed is the least of my worries. I can’t bring the dogs in, so I crack open the car windows to give them some fresh air and say a silent prayer of thanks: I didn’t run out of gas. I didn’t get into an accident. And neither dog was hungry enough to bite off Lily’s head.
CHAPTER 32
WHEN I UNSTRAP LILY from her car seat, she feels even warmer.
She’s still screaming as we enter the pediatrician’s waiting room, a cheery orange space filled with colorful posters and puzzles, stuffed animals and books, and kids. Lots and lots of babies and kids, all coughing and sneezing and drooling on the toys and each other. Depending on your point of view, this is either a fun place for sick kids or a human petri dish.
With Lily in my arms, I rush to the receptionist’s window.
“Name?” a nice young woman asks. She’s wearing a plastic tag that readsMAGGIE.
“Caroline Babulewicz.” I spell it for her as she types. “B… A… B… U…”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t seem to have Caroline in my computer.”
“Oh, you meanhername. She’s Lily. Lily Harrison.” I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to hold the baby up to the window as proof that she exists. Clearly, I am a woman on the edge.
“Are you her legal guardian?”
“Well, yes. But no. It’s an emergency. She’s crying. I can’t get her to stop. And she has a fever. It was a hundred and two before. It may be higher now.”
“Well, I’ll see if we can—”
“I’m nervous. This is my first baby,” I tell her. “Well, not reallymyfirst baby. I mean, yes, my first baby, but…”
I’m having trouble putting a complete sentence together. Did I say I was on the edge? Make thatcertifiable.
Lily’s screams are disrupting the placid feng shui of the office, frightening some of the other kids, who cry and cling to their caretakers. Is crying contagious? Who knows? The receptionist makes an executive decision.
“Come with me,” she says.
