Has she got chickenpox? Are you mad? Im pregnant!
Relax! She hasnt had a fever for three days. The doctor said shes not contagious anymore.
Emily stood frozen in the doorway of the living room. She took a step back, putting distance between herself and this impromptu sickbay. Theyd only just arrived at her mother-in-laws five minutes ago, and already she wanted to bolt.
On the sofa sat Margaret, smiling as if nothing were amiss. Beside her, four-year-old Sophie fidgeted on the floor in unicorn pyjamas, her skin speckled with green spots like some kind of sickly leopard.
Relax? Do you even realise Ive never had chickenpox? That its dangerous for the baby? Why didnt anyone warn me? Emily spun towards the exit.
Come on, love, youre already here, Margaret said placatingly, as if that should settle it. Might as well stay.
If Id known, I wouldnt have set foot in this house! Emily snapped, yanking on her boots.
She threw her coat on outside, refusing to linger a second longer. She didnt need surprises like this at eight months pregnant. Her husband scrambled after her.
The whole drive home, Emily cursed herself. She knew how her in-laws treated health concernsknew, and still went along with it.
…The first red flag had been when her sister-in-law brought a visibly ill Sophie over months ago. Emily had brushed it off thenshe wasnt pregnant at the timebut it still left a sour taste.
It soured further when she fell ill two days later. Working from home meant she couldnt have caught it elsewhere. The fever made her miss deadlines, earning a scolding from her boss during their busiest season. Shed worked through it, miserable.
Sorry about that, Sarah had shrugged when Emily confronted her. Who knew youd catch it so easily?
As if it were Emilys fault. As if Sarah bore no blame. That stung most of all.
Sarahs carelessness wasnt reserved for Emily. She routinely dropped Sophie at nursery while sick.
Theyre kids. If mines coughing, theyve all got it by now! I cant afford sick days, shed snapped when the nursery worker scolded her.
No lessons learned. Why would she? She wasnt the one suffering. Others were.
Thankfully, Emily avoided chickenpox, and little James was born healthy. But shed made up her mind: shed protect herself and her son from such recklessness, no matter what. So she accidentally muddled the dates for visitors, allowing only her own mother over.
Hows little James? When can we meet our grandson? Margaret fretted over the phone.
Not sure. The doctor advised keeping him isolated. His immune systems fragile, Emily hedged. Were not even taking him outside yet, let alone having guests.
She dodged visits with any excusefeigned confusion, sudden ailments, sheer exhaustion. Anything to keep that walking petri dish Sophie away.
Then Sarah showed up unannounced. Emily opened the door on autopilot, and the damage was done. Sniffling but beaming, Sophie darted straight to the nursery.
Thought wed pop round for tea, Sarah chirped. Sophies been begging to see her cousin. Kids love little ones, dont they?
Emilys eyebrow twitched. Every instinct screamed to shove them both out, but she held back.
Is Sophie sick again? Emily crossed her arms.
Kids are always poorly, Sarah evaded. Its just allergies. Besides, they need to build immunity.
Right, Emily drawled skeptically.
She booted them out half an hour later, claiming they were off to meet Dad from workbut it was too late. Two days later, James spiked a fever of 40, his tiny body seizing. That night was hell. Emily blamed herself. She shouldve slammed the door.
Enough.
No more. Thats it. No more snotty Sophies in this house, she told her husband.
Em, its not her fault, he tried. Shes just a kid.
I know. But seeing her gives me a nervous twitch. Shes a walking infection. Every time shes here, disaster follows.
He fell silent. She knew he hated it, but she didnt care. She hated fearing for her son.
Yet cutting them off entirely proved impossible. They could skip Christmas at Margarets, claim they were away for Mothers Daybut banning them from James birthday? That caused uproar.
I invited Mum and Sarah, her husband admitted warily. Theyll be here by five.
Emily froze mid-dishwash. She glared.
I said no visitors!
Em, theyre family. I asked if Sophie was illSarah swore shes fine. How could I say no? Your mums coming tomorrow! Are mine somehow worse?
She pressed her lips tight. Fine. Maybe things had changed.
They hadnt.
This time, Sophie wasnt coughingjust eerily quiet, slumped in a corner.
Is Sophie alright? Emily muttered to Sarah.
Her throat was sore this morning. Gave her paracetamolshes better now.
Emily inhaled sharply.
Sarah, every time you bring that sick child here, we end up at A&E.
Oh, relax! Kids get ill. Better now than at nursery, right?
Emily stared, dumbfounded.
So I should thank you?
Not thank me, but youre overreacting. All kids get sick.
Not by choice! They dont need your help spreading germs!
The party limped on, tension thick. Three days later, James was feverish again.
Surely that was the end of it. Even her husband saw sense.
Then, on December 30th, he stormed in, slammed his keys down, and locked himself in the lounge.
Everything alright? Emily called.
Stay back, he warned. Keep James away. I was at Sarahs. She needed help assembling Sophies bike.
She already knew.
Turns out theres a norovirus outbreak at her nursery. Sarah only mentioned it as I left…
…They rang in the New Year hunched over buckets, untouched turkey rotting in the fridge. No countdown, no tellyjust silence.
I cant do this anymore, Emily whispered. Im exhausted, worrying. Phone calls only from now on, okay?
Okay, he sighed.
This time, he meant it. Somewhere between the vomit and the sleepless nights, hed finally grasped it: family shouldnt gamble with your childs health.
Even if all kids get sick.
