2019-09-27 - Captain Tripps

Stephanie was being ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with Itzhak. She didn't need to worry about him. He was always telling her not to, that he was a big boy, and he had his very own ma to fret after him. So, she wouldn't. She just wouldn't worry.

Only his car was still parked at the curb and he hadn't gone to work. Only he'd come home sometime yesterday afternoon and she hadn't heard his violin since. He hadn't been outside smoking or bemusedly consenting to throw Hunter a Nerf football or even in the house proper complaining about everything. He wasn't being big and loud and tough and New York all over the place and the silence was ringing in her ears.

She hadn't heard his girlfriend either. Not that she's, you know, thinking about her, and him, or anything. Isolde is a very nice girl. Slightly homeless, living with that man they call Crazy Clayton (who also comes over to Itzhak's basement), obviously on drugs. But very nice. Stephanie isn't going to judge her for the way she gets through the day. Times are hard for everyone.

"Mom," Philly whispers, tugging her sleeve.

"What, baby?" Stephanie says, biting her nail. She's staring at her phone, with Itzhak's number called up. She'll text him. She'll text him and if he makes that face at her, well, he can just cope, he's a big boy.

[TXT to Itzhak] Stephanie: Hey are you home
[TXT to Itzhak] Stephanie: Can you check the oil in my car? The light is on

That's a great excuse, he'll do that. Philly's saying something but she didn't catch it. "Do you want a snack?"

Philly blinks up at her. "Yes," she says.

Stephanie gets her a snack and promises herself she's not going to text Itzhak again for half an hour. At least.

Twenty minutes later she's trying not to call him, jogging her phone in her hand, his number up, cussing under her breath. She's being ridiculous. There is nothing wrong with him. He's just going to get annoyed with her for pestering him.

"Mom? Mom? Mom." Philly's hovering around, clutching her Applejack pony.

"What is it?" Stephanie says. She'll call him. He can't complain about that. Well, he can. He can complain about anything. She'll call anyway. She hits the green button. It goes to voicemail. "Itzhak, hi, it's Stephanie. I'm just calling to see if you're okay. Text me back."

Grimacing, Stephanie hangs up. Smooth. He'll never suspect she was worrying about him now.

Hunter stampedes through the kitchen, squealing, and Stephanie's heart jumps, thinking he heard Itzhak's car--but the Corvette hasn't moved from the curb in order to come back. So it wasn't that.

Hunter pastes himself to her leg. "MOMMY! I saw a BIG BUG!"

"That's so nice, why don't you catch it in your bug collector?" Stephanie says, thinking about the key to the door to the basement. She had to have it easily accessible, by code, and she had the right to enter a tenant's space in an emergency. Did this count? Should she unlock the door? What if he was, well, doing something? Worse, what if he was with someone?

Philly retreats to the edge of the linoleum and sways in place, biting Applejack's ear. She does that when she's anxious. The therapist is working with her on finding better habits. Stephanie doesn't like the therapist, but Principal Clemons assured her that she was very good, so she must know what she's doing.

[TXT to Itzhak] Stephanie: Can you please just text me back?
[TXT to Itzhak] Stephanie: I really need you to text me back.

That never worked with Reggie, Stephanie thinks bitterly, why would it work with this other uncontrollable man she'd wound up with in her life?

"I can't FIND it," Hunter's saying. "I want to catch it and feed it to Iris!"

"You're not allowed to feed Iris," Philly says.

"Yes I AM." He's really not, but Hunter's going through a stage where he's convinced if he says something loud enough, it comes true.

"No you're not, Mom, he's not allowed to feed Iris!" Philly's getting upset. She almost raised her voice.

"Okay, everybody quiet!" Stephanie isn't going to yell, she swears she isn't. She can't think with the kids fighting. "Mommy needs you both to be very good, okay?"

Hunter's little face is turned up to her. A scar runs through the end of one white-blonde eyebrow. Hunter had cried about it until Itzhak told him it made him look like 'a real tough guy' and showed him the scars on his hands. Now Hunter was the coolest kid on the playground for having that damn scar. Stephanie had to have a conversation with Principal Clemons about that one. The principal was not sure her tenant, Mr. Rosencrantz, was a good influence on little Hunter, or on any of the other first graders for that matter.

Clemons hadn't said that last part, but Stephanie had come to pick up the kids one day and found Hunter arguing with three other kids over who could pretend to be Itzhak. (Two were girls. None of them found that an obstacle. The only important factor was who had performed the most daring feat on the monkey bars.)

She'd told Itzhak. He'd laughed, ruffled Hunter's hair, and told him, "Don't be like me, tateleh, ain't nothin' but trouble."

Hunter had decided this meant he was a knighted follower of the True Way of Itzhak Rosencrantz. Stephanie dreads the inevitable day in the future she would find him trying to ink up his knuckles with a Crayola marker.

Oh God, she was woolgathering. "Hunter, have you seen Itzhak?" If anybody in this house knew...

"Nu uh," Hunter says, uninterested. "Can I play outside?"

"Okay. Backyard only. You have to come in when it gets dark."

"OKAY THANK YOU MOMMY!" Hunter races out the back door.

Stephanie sighs, rubbing her forehead. Philly is still standing at the edge of the kitchen, swaying back and forth.

"What do you need?" she asks her.

"Nothing," Philly says.

Stephanie forces herself to say very, very patiently, "What's wrong? Tell Mommy."

Philly holds up Applejack. This means Stephanie must listen to a secret Applejack has to tell her. She bends over obligingly. Applejack's fusty muzzle gets mashed against her cheek.

"I heard him throwing up," Philly whispers.

"Who, baby?" Stephanie says it before she realizes what Philly means. Oh no.

"Itz-eel," Philly says.

Stephanie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. "When did you hear, Applejack?"

"When I woke up." Philly pulls Applejack back and looks up at Stephanie, brown eyes wide. She stuffs Applejack's ear back in her mouth.

When she woke up--Stephanie counts the hours. It's four in the afternoon.

She can't panic. She can not panic or the kids will freak out. Stephanie walks to the basement door, one step at a time. Normal, casual, even steps.

Knock knock knock knock knock. "Itzhak? Itzhak I'm going to have to come in if you don't answer me," she yells through the door. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. "Itzhak? Itzhak!"

There's no answer, and she's sure she can hear the shower running. Now that she thinks about it, she thinks she's heard the shower running for a while. She can't remember when it started.

She knows then she's going to use the key.

Stephanie glances out the back door; Hunter's occupied digging in the sandbox. "Philly, go sit on the couch, read a book." She hustles back to the kitchen, plucks the key from the hook.

"Mommy, is he okay?" Philly says, frightened. She's watching Stephanie and Stephanie is desperately aware of it, aware of all those little neurons forming.

She almost tells her he's fine. It'd be so easy to do. "I don't know, baby," is what she says, though. "Mommy has to check on him. Go sit down!"

Philly hurries to the couch. Good girl. Stephanie unlocks the basement door for the first time since Itzhak moved in.

The shower is on. Stephanie calls Itzhak's name as she creeps down the stairs, feeling like an idiot, already scolding herself for overreacting. He's going to be fine. He's going to be fine and annoyed with her. Well, she'll be happy if he is. Just let him be annoyed with her and that's all, she'll be happy to listen to his kvetching.

The bathroom door is closed. Stephanie approaches it, wincing, knowing she needs to open it and knowing Itzhak will be in there.

She bangs on the door for a good thirty seconds first. "Itzhak I'm coming in! I have to come in!" she cries, when he doesn't answer. Oh God, oh no, oh she hates this, she hates it so much. Cringingly she turns the knob and opens the door.

The door bumps into Itzhak's leg. He's naked, sprawled on the floor, arms hooked over the edge of the tub. Stephanie's mind goes cool, goes sharp. The first aid course she took before Philly was born comes back to her all at once. She needs to check if he's alive.

She steps over his long damn leg, crouches next to him, and gives him a good shake. He's freezing--the water has long since gone cold. "Itzhak!" The first aid instructor said use their name if you know it. "Wake up! Are you okay?" The instructor said to say that too, even if it's obvious they're not okay.

Itzhak opens his eyes, staring through her. His skin is cold, but just underneath he's burning up. He looks awful, pale and green. Stephanie notes he's alive. She reaches over to turn off the shower. "I think you're sick," she says, her voice brisk, part of her marveling that she's doing this, that she can do this. "Can you get up?"

He lets his eyes close again. Stephanie resists the urge to give him a good slap. She shakes him instead. "Listen to me! I can't pick you up. You either have to get up or I have to call an ambulance."

Itzhak doesn't move, just lays there. But thank God, he finally says something. I can't get up. Can't keep anything down. I hate to say it, Stepheleh, but it'll have to be the ambulance.

It's weird how clear his voice is, Stephanie thinks, trying to wipe away the sick from his mouth. He's lucky he didn't breathe anything in and choke. "Okay. I'll call. Can you sit up, at least?"

She absently wipes her fingers on her shirt, gets one arm around Itzhak's big ribcage and shovels him somewhat more upright against the toilet. He stirs to help her. Once he's sort of sitting up, he coughs violently, and a lot of phlegm comes up. Stephanie is dialing 911 and her hand isn't even shaking. She dials with one hand and rubs Itzhak's back with the other. Part of her hopes to God this isn't contagious, the kids are right outside.

Don't worry. Pretty sure it isn't. Pretty sure this is payback. Itzhak's voice reminds her of something, she can't think what. He's looking at her now, his eyes dazed-bright with fever. Just the first of many.

"Hush," Stephanie orders him. 911 picks up.

Ten minutes later, Stephanie is standing back while a paramedic runs an IV right there in the bathroom. Almost immediately Itzhak looks better, lifting his head and answering the questions the woman is asking him, his voice like gravel. Two others are preparing a stretcher. Philly and Hunter cling to Stephanie's legs, and she wonders if it's okay for them to see this. She doesn't know. They're scared. She thought it'd be better for them to be with her than her to try to make them stay upstairs while a lot of mysterious and terrifying things happened in the basement.

One of the paramedics is half-playfully scolding Itzhak for not getting his flu shot. He rumbles, "Did, 'cause Naomi," as they strap him on the stretcher. Stephanie looks at him. He's so tall, and he walks like he expects jaws and panties to drop when he arrives in a room, and he's too weak to stand. He doesn't look like the same man.

He rolls his head to look at her, startling her. Thanks. Ya did good, kid. She can hear him perfectly well over all the bustle.

Then they're wheeling him out. Hunter whines. Stephanie pets his head. She needs to bring the kids upstairs, get them settled, and scrub everything in that bathroom with bleach. Is it too late to get everyone flu shots? If this flu could knock a big dude like Itzhak down like a felled tree...but he said it wasn't contagious. And for the life of her, she believes him. It's absurd. But she does.

"Come on, troops," she says, and guides the kids ahead of her up the stairs. "He's gonna be okay."

As she closes the basement door behind her, she realizes Itzhak's voice had sounded like a violin.