Scarlatina

Therese came awake at some point during the afternoon, her head spinning, her eyes aching.

Her throat felt like it had almost closed up. She tried to swallow, then gagged. Her lower lips curved down in a pout and she slitted her eyes open, squinting against the afternoon light. She stretched a hand across the smooth covers and it came into contact with Carol's thigh. Carol looked down at her and smiled sympathetically, her eyes full of concern.

"Hello, darling. Oh, sweetie." Carol's cool hand brushed across Therese's forehead, and Therese gagged again, feeling miserable. Carol turned and picked up Therese's glass of water, and Therese sat up, feeling her headache knock against her skull and her body start to shake with the effort of moving. She gulped at the water, feeling her throat open a little, but the effort of drinking was almost too much, and she lay back against the pillows, exhausted, her face flushed.

"Well, you slept for a few hours at least," said Carol, her soft voice comforting. Therese tried to nod, but instead, she just closed her eyes.

Carol looked concerned. "I think we ought to take your temperature again, Therese. I'm not sure the aspirin is still working."

Therese tried to talk, but her voice came out as a whispery croak, which surprised her. "I already know I have a fever, Carol."

"Yes, Therese, but I don't want your fever to get too high," said Carol, patiently, though Therese could hear a slight note of irritation. She obediently opened her lips, and Carol slid the tiny glass thermometer between them. Therese sighed and closed her eyes again.

When she opened them, Carol was looking more than concerned - now, she looked worried. "It's not going down. 103 degrees is very high for an adult."

"I'm just sick, Carol," whispered Therese, and she would have tossed her head in irritation if she'd had the energy. But her abdomen growled, and then it cramped, and her face crumpled as she clutched her belly. "Carol, I need to go . . . "

But before she could even think of heaving herself off the bed, she already knew it was too late, and she knew Carol did, too. Therese began to cry. What was this illness? She'd never been this sick in her entire life. And now she supposed she'd need another bath . . . she rubbed her fists into her sore eyes and let out a cracked wail.

"Oh, Therese. Oh, sweetheart." Carol gathered her poor sick girl into her arms again. "It's all right. It was an accident."

Therese didn't say anything; she just turned her face into Carol's blouse, uncaring. If this was what she was going to come to, then she'd rather just die. Carol kissed her hair and rubbed Therese's back.

"I don't want another bath," whimpered Therese, looking up at Carol pleadingly, and Carol smiled.

"You don't have to have another bath, Therese. I'll clean you up right here in bed. And I think we'll get a bowl or a pot or something." Carol didn't say anything more, but Therese knew what she meant, and she nodded. It would certainly save her from trying to get to the toilet when she was this weak. Carol kissed Therese's hair and then her forehead. "And then more aspirin, my little one. You are starting to scare me just a bit."

Truth be told, Therese was starting to scare herself. The last severe illness she'd had had been measles, and she certainly had never been as sick as this, though she remembered it being miserable. Maybe it was the flu? Therese lay on her back as Carol got up to fetch a wet cloth and a fresh diaper, and rubbed her sore, aching eyes. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she was so sore and uncomfortable. Every part of her body was aching.

When Carol came back, she rubbed Therese's sore tummy. "My poor sweetheart. I'm so sorry you're feeling this unwell."

"I feel awful," whined Therese. She didn't even move as Carol took off her pajama pants and started to lower her plastic pants, but she did screw her eyes shut so that she didn't have to watch Carol change her. Therese wished herself a million miles away.

"Oh, Therese. You're getting quite a terrible rash. I wonder if we should risk you going without diapers for awhile. I'll be right here in case you need to go." Carol wiped Therese gently, but Therese's skin still stung, and she whimpered.

"I can't do that, Carol. You know that," Therese whimpered. "I'll wet the bed. Or worse," she said darkly, and Carol couldn't help a chuckle.

"We have a rubber sheet on the bed," she reminded Therese. "I'm sure we can deal with any accidents. I just want you to be more comfortable, darling."

"I'm not comfortable!" Therese rubbed her eyes again. "Why does everything have to hurt so much?"

Carol rubbed Therese's belly again, soothingly. "Your fever is very high and your body is trying to fight it. I know you feel miserable, Therese." She pinned on Therese's clean diaper securely, but left her plastic pants off. "I will deal with any accidents," she said to Therese firmly, and then left to wash her hands.

Therese put a thumb into her mouth and tried to comfort herself while Carol was gone, but she took it out in another minute, hating the taste of it and feeling like she wanted to throw up. When Carol came back, looking tired and worried, Therese vowed she would let Carol have some time to herself and try to go back to sleep. But her eyes filled with tears, unbidden, and she wanted nothing more than to be held in Carol's arms. Only Carol knew how to make her feel better . . . safe and loved.

Therese didn't say anything as Carol got back up onto the bed, but her lips moved in an unconscious sucking motion and her hands twitched with the effort of not reaching out to Carol, and Carol smiled down at her, anyway.

"Would you like to nurse for awhile, Therese?"

"I don't want to bother you," mumbled Therese. "You don't have to."

Carol clucked under her tongue and her face changed; it was empathetic, sweet, understanding. "You're not bothering me, sweetie. I love you. I don't mind taking care of you."

Therese shook her head and began to cry. "You'll start to hate me," she wept. "I can't help it, Carol; I just need you. I don't know why this is happening to me!"

"Oh, Therese. Shh." Carol held her arms out to Therese, and with a mammoth effort, Therese moved so that Carol could cradle her and rock her. Carol stroked Therese's hair and hushed her for awhile, until Therese's tears stopped and she could take a sip or two of water.

"Now. I think that's the fever talking, and I think we really ought to make sure you're taking your medication on time. Why, you're practically on fire, darling. Fevers can really turn your head, now, can't they?"

At Carol's soothing, soft tone, Therese nodded, and obediently swallowed more aspirin and water. Her throat felt better when there was cool water on it, and she closed her eyes as she sipped. Carol looked at Therese speculatively, supporting the glass so that Therese wouldn't drop it.

"Would you prefer a bottle over a glass, darling?"

Therese nodded, and Carol kissed her forehead. "All right. Once you're asleep, I'll put some water in a bottle for you. I think it might be easier for you to stay hydrated that way." She let go of Therese to unbutton her blouse, but Therese couldn't stand not having Carol's arms around her, and she whimpered and shook her head, putting her clammy little hands over Carol's.

"Well, Therese, I can't nurse you if I can't undress," said Carol, sounding a little amused, but Therese moved Carol's fingers and started to unbutton Carol's shirt herself. "I just want you to hold me," she whispered. "If you don't mind."

Carol usually didn't like Therese to unbutton her blouse or unhook her bra when it came to nursing; she had once reminded Therese that they were Carol's breasts, so Carol would decide and control if she would let Therese have access to them. Therese had been chastened, but it didn't stop her from sometimes getting a little impatient and needing her hands swatted away. Today, however, she just pulled Therese closer and let Therese do the work, saying nothing at all.

Once Carol's breasts were exposed, Therese sighed a long sigh and, a little eagerly, latched on. Carol jumped a little bit and winced. "Careful, darling. Be a little more gentle, please."

Therese kneaded at Carol's breast, trying to figure out why they seemed so hard and strange-feeling. Carol made a noise of half-pleasure, half-pain, and removed Therese's hand. "Sweetheart, please don't do that."

"Why are they like this?" Therese unlatched and pouted. "I don't like them like this!"

Carol sighed. "I don't know, Therese. I'm sorry they're not to your liking. I haven't been feeling well myself. I'm not sure if it's the change of life, or if there's something else wrong . . ." Carol looked worried and Therese felt a little badly. She stroked Carol's left breast tenderly, and Carol smiled, a little fondly.

"I'm sorry," said Therese penitently. "I'll be careful if they're sore. I hope you're not feeling too badly," she said, and kissed Carol's left nipple sweetly, which made Carol laugh a little bit.

"I'm just fine, darling. It's all right."

Therese latched back on and nursed quietly for several long minutes, hearing both Carol's soothing heartbeat and Carol humming above her, rocking her securely. Therese started to feel a little better as the aspirin began to bring down her fever, and her headache lessened. She closed her eyes, feeling warm, dry, and loved.

What happened next was so strange, she swore she had dreamed it.

//~//

Carol was much more concerned about Therese than she was letting on. The girl was almost completely not herself, and the rash on her bottom appeared to be spreading up her back and down her thighs. Her fever was raging, and her clinginess, while usual for feverish Therese, was almost unprecedented. When Carol walked out of the room to fetch more water, Therese had burst into tears and reached her arms out to Carol, begging her not to go. Carol imagined that if Therese had the strength, she would have gotten up and followed her into the kitchen.

Therese nursed contentedly now. Carol traced her finger over Therese's flushed cheeks and darkly-circled eyes. Despite her fever going down, the flush on Therese's face had not lessened; in fact, Therese seemed more flushed than before. At Carol's touch, Therese crinkled her eyes in a smile and nuzzled closer to Carol, kneading her breast a little bit again, as she was sometimes wont to do. The kneading hurt, but Carol didn't have the heart to tell Therese to stop when she seemed finally contented for the first time all day.

But suddenly, Therese's eyes flew open, and in another moment, she unlatched, looking half-horrified, half-shocked.

"Therese, dear heart, what's the matter?" Carol felt a little shocked, herself, looking at Therese's face. "What's wrong?"

Therese just looked at Carol. "Carol . . . are you sick? Have you just not told me you're sick?"

"Therese, I really don't know what this is all about. What's the matter, sweetie? You look like you've seen a ghost." Carol tried to calm Therese, rubbing her back, trying to get her to relax. "I'm not sick as far as I know. I haven't seen a doctor yet, though. And if I were sick; well, good Lord, darling, of course I would tell you. I wouldn't keep that from you." Carol felt a little hurt, and Therese looked slightly chastened. But she frowned.

"Then what is happening? Did I . . . did I do this?"

"Did you do what, Therese?" Carol felt herself closing her eyes, trying to hold onto her patience. "As far as I know, you haven't done anything!"

Therese ran a finger over Carol's nipple and held it up to Carol. It was shining slightly, as if wet, and appeared coated in a translucent substance. Carol just stared at it for a moment before everything suddenly clicked.

"Therese . . . I'm not sick, baby. I'm not sick at all, in fact." Carol started to laugh, and Therese looked hurt. Carol stroked her cheek, still chuckling. "It's milk. It's just milk. That's all."

Therese looked mystified. "It's . . . milk?" Her voice went up uncertainly at the end, and Carol realized that Therese had likely never even seen a baby nursed in her life, let alone realized that some women did still nurse their children. Carol hadn't known any in her set, but she knew it still happened. And as she thought back over the past few weeks, well, her symptoms started to make sense. The soreness, the longing to really nurse Therese, the way her breasts twinged when Therese was upset, her frustration and fierce love for her little girl . . .

A thousand emotions seem to be crossing Therese's face as she lay in Carol's arms, and Carol kissed her forehead. "This happened with Rindy. I was told to stop nursing her and the feelings I was having, and the milk, would dry up. They did, but . . . I guess maybe you've needed me so much lately, it all started again. I know you haven't been feeling well these past few weeks, and well, the milk came back."

"Is this normal?" Therese sounded dangerously close to tears, and Carol made a sympathetic noise. "Sweetheart, it's all right. Don't be frightened."

"But Carol . . . could I have done this? Made them do this?"

Carol cuddled Therese to her. "You had a hand in it, yes," she said, and dropped another kiss on Therese's cheek. "And I think it's normal for my body to respond to my little one's needs. Just in time, too, isn't it? Your refusing to eat anything and all."

Therese's face crumpled, then, and she pushed her face into Carol's breast. "I'm sorry," came up from Carol's chest, muffled and sad. "I didn't mean to make it happen. I didn't mean to make the milk come."

"Oh, angel. Shh. Don't cry." Carol gently tipped Therese's chin up. "The milk came because we needed it. It wouldn't have come if you hadn't needed to nurse. Don't you like it?"

Therese sniffled and rubbed her wrist across her nose. Carol reached over for a tissue and wiped Therese's face, and Therese pouted. "I don't know."

"It might be a little strange." Carol didn't say that it was definitely a little strange for her. She hadn't even realized this could happen.

"It's . . . I don't know." Therese latched on again and sucked, almost experimentally, and Carol chuckled again. Therese unlatched. "There isn't much of it."

"Well, it's just started."

"It's very sweet. It's . . . nice." Therese then hid her face in Carol's chest again in embarrassment, and Carol stroked her hair. Therese popped up and looked shy. "Does it . . . hurt? Now that it's come?"

Carol thought about it for a moment. It didn't hurt, exactly. It felt almost pleasurable in a way. "No, darling. It doesn't hurt. It feels good when you nurse. But if you don't want the milk, we can stop for a few weeks and let it dry up. I don't mind." She rubbed Therese's back.

Therese shook her head slowly. "No. No, I like it. I want the milk," she said shyly, and latched on again. This time, Carol could see her swallowing every so often, and she felt almost relieved that Therese had been so amenable to the whole thing. Secretly, she was confused and a little frightened herself. This was normal, wasn't it?

After awhile, Therese switched sides and started to look like she was going to fall asleep. Carol patted her bottom, unsurprised to find her damp. "If you're going to fall asleep, sweetheart, we need to change you first."

Therese obediently unlatched, and Carol noticed with fond amusement that her lips were a little milky. "All right," she said, sounding exhausted, and Carol sat her up. Without thinking, the way she would have if it had been Rindy she had finished feeding, she patted Therese's back and Therese burped a little bit, looking surprised.

"Good girl," said Carol, and kissed Therese's cheek. "We don't want your tummy to hurt from any trapped wind."

Therese looked a little bemused, but she lay back and let Carol change her. Carol put on her plastic pants. "Just for now. I don't know how long you'll sleep."

Therese closed her eyes and rolled over onto her side, almost before Carol could finish putting her pajama pants back on. "I get it," said Carol, smiling. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

Therese fell asleep almost immediately, her mouth sweetly half-open, and Carol took the opportunity to leave the room and get herself a drink and something to eat. But once she got to the kitchen, she suddenly started to feel a little panicky.

Was it normal for her to have started to lactate again? Was there actually something wrong with her, as Therese had thought? Carol had a wild idea that she might have some kind of reproductive cancer, and that was enough to send her to the liquor cabinet. She pulled out the bottle of bourbon and poured herself three fingers, trying to ignore the shaking of her fingers and the way the bottle clinked rhythmically against the crystal glass. Truth be told, she was as terrified as Therese had been, though she hadn't wanted to scare Therese while the poor thing was so ill.

Drinking deeply, Carol took stock of the situation. She had been feeling off for a few weeks, but she'd also missed her period, which could be another symptom. Her breasts had been hard and swollen, sore to the touch, only relieved sometimes by Therese's almost constant nursing. That symptom had appeared a few weeks ago, right after a fight she and Therese had had, followed up by Therese nursing practically the entire night, both women crying and holding each other as if they'd never let go.

Perhaps it was that Therese was just nursing more? If a baby nursing less would make milk dry up, wouldn't nursing more make the milk come? It seemed logical to Carol, but she was no scientist.

Putting aside the problem for now, her thoughts returned to Therese. As sick as her little one was, Carol was still hesitant to call in a doctor. Their whole living situation aside, how would either of them explain Therese's diapers or her touch-hunger for Carol right now? Carol knew from experience that Therese could lapse into delirium when her fever got high, though she'd never seen her with this high of a fever. If Therese was out of her mind, there would be no telling what she might say in front of a stranger who could very well report any same-sex relationship to the police. Carol was quite aware of just how far it could go. Harge had made sure she knew the consequences.

Carol sighed and sat down at the table in the kitchen, crossing her legs and mopping her forehead in the relentless heat.

She supposed they'd have to wait and see.

//~//

Therese was worse that evening. Carol finally gave up and called Abby right when Therese's fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit and Therese had thrown up all over herself during a particularly violent gagging episode. While she had obediently opened her mouth for Carol to look inside with a little pen light, right after Carol had cleaned her up and gotten her more aspirin and a bottle filled with water to drink, Carol didn't really know what she was looking at. Therese's tonsils were swollen almost completely across her throat. Her tongue was bright red, mottled white. The tonsils certainly weren't normal but was the tongue? Was Therese in any danger? Carol simply didn't know.

After Carol had gotten Therese back to sleep (and for the first time, was grateful for the fact that Therese was at least getting some nourishment, even if the little bit of breastmilk she was having still concerned Carol slightly), Abby picked up at the hotel she was staying at, on the East Side of the city. "Abby Gerhard."

"Hi, darling. How's the conference?"

"Oh, Carol. Hiya, kiddo. The conference is going well. I've met so many people doing such interesting research. I really think that there might be better ways to save crops without pesticides, if only we can actually harness what some of these insects can do to eliminate other pests. It's been simply fascinating."

Carol smiled. It was always fascinating to Abby, her fixation on bugs. "That's wonderful, Abby."

"So, how's tricks?" Carol heard Abby blow out a mouthful of smoke on the other end of the phone, and suddenly had a craving for a cigarette. Lighting one herself from the pack lying on the hall table, she blew out smoke of her own before she answered.

"Therese is ill. I'm not sure what's wrong with her."

Abby sounded unconcerned. "There are always summer colds going around. She'll be right as rain in a day or two, I'm sure."

"No . . . I don't think this is a cold." Carol tried to keep the worry out of her voice, aiming to sound just as unconcerned as Abby. "Her fever's quite high and she's not eating."

"Well, how high are we talking, Carol? You told me Therese is prone to fevers."

"104." Carol said nothing else, and Abby's voice changed, sounding much more serious.

"Well. That's definitely something to be concerned about."

"Abby, I'd like her to see a doctor." Carol stopped, feeling the stress of the day build behind her eyes. They pricked a bit with tears. "I've never seen her so ill. She's not really keeping anything in, either."

"She's vomiting?"

"Just once, but she has terrible diarrhea. And she's just refusing to eat, and I can't get her to drink much . . ." Carol's voice broke, and Abby's comforting voice came over the line.

"Well, sweetie, have you called the doctor?"

"I can't. You know I can't." Carol sat down on the chair beside the telephone table, feeling her legs weaken a bit. "I can't explain it all, or give Harge more ammunition . . . how would I explain why she's in my bed instead of her own? How would we explain all of her, well, little quirks? I can't call a doctor, but I'm so frightened, Abby." Two tears slipped down Carol's cheeks, and she wiped them away impatiently.

"You couldn't move her?" Abby's voice was gentle, and Carol half-sobbed, half-chuckled.

"Have you tried to move Therese when she's sick? Or been around her when I go out of her sight?"

Abby chuckled a little, herself. "I see. Well, Carol. It's a conundrum."

"Don't you know anyone?" Carol counted on Abby's wide network of contacts for quite a few things. Abby had found Carol's divorce lawyer, and she had introduced her to Bob, Carol's boss at the furniture store. Abby was in contact with a variety of people in the science and medical communities. Surely she'd know someone tolerant?

"I don't know any doctors, sweetie. I'm sorry."

"Anyone?" Carol hated how weak and pleading she sounded, but Abby hushed her a little bit, her voice sibilant and sweet, soothing to Carol's ears.

"I do know a nurse. She's like us."

"A nurse?" Carol would have preferred a doctor, but she'd take what she can get. "Would she . . . consider coming here? I would pay her for her trouble. I can't move Therese right now."

Abby sighed. "She works long hours, Carol. I'm not sure she'd agree. But I can ask her. Let me call you back, all right?"

Carol hung up with Abby and smoked her cigarette, watching the sun set over Madison Avenue through the front windows of the apartment. She sipped her bourbon - her second glass that day - and tried to calm down. Therese was asleep now, and the aspirin would take her fever down to a more manageable level. But it was clear she was getting worse, and Carol had no idea what she might have.

Abby called back within twenty minutes. "She'll come. Her name is Jane Bierman. She lives on the Lower East Side; she said she'd come out tonight if possible. She said Therese's symptoms sounded rather worrying. But Carol - she also said she wasn't sure what she could really do."

"Anything will help. I'm just not sure if Therese should be in the hospital or not." Carol ran a hand through her blonde hair and Abby made a sympathetic noise.

"Keep me posted, all right? Love you."

"I love you. Thank you."

Carol hung up the phone and went in to check on Therese, who was sleeping peacefully, the aspirin working to help her feel better. Carol put a hand on Therese's forehead; the girl's smooth skin was much cooler than it had been earlier.

She hoped Jane could help them. All they could do was wait.