Mary and Daphne #92

“You’ve been using again,” Mary accused me. She is just so melodramatic sometimes.

“I have not. I just … ugh,” I said because I was dizzy.

“You have. Where did you get it?”

“I didn’t. I just don’t feel well.”

“I can see that. I know what it looks like. We beat this, Daffy. Remember? We beat this. Tell me the truth: are you using again?”

“I … yes. But only a little, Mary. Just a little. And it feels so good!”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s too much. Look at you – you’re all flushed and dizzy.” She sighed. “I think we have to take you to the clinic.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

“I don’t want you to go, either, but I’m not sure they’ll call in a prescription without seeing you.”

“Let’s call Dr. Murray.” My immunologist. She’d call in a prescription. She wouldn’t want me risking covid at urgent care for just an ear infection.

“I’ll call. You go get the Q–tips you’re not supposed to buy and bring them down here.”

Okay, so I have – had! – this bad habit of using Q–tips, which ironically make your ears itch more but feel sooo good! And if you’re prone to ear infections, sometimes using them gives you an ear infection, so Mary made me stop using them. It was a struggle (they feel sooooo good!). It says right on the box not to put them in your ears. Must be the object most used for the thing you’re specifically not supposed to use them for. I get all jonesing for it for days after I stop using them, but it goes away and stops itching.

I went and got them, was sorely tempted to stash a few for emergencies, but resisted and went back downstairs to find Mary on hold to talk to a nurse. She held out her hand and took the box. I sat down next to her.

“Hi,” Mary said into her phone. “I’m hoping to get some antibiotics called in for my wife. She has an ear infection … No, she hasn’t been seen, but she gets them often enough to know, and I don’t want to take her to urgent care and be around people who might have covid … Her ear hurts, she’s dizzy …” Mary reached out and put the back of her hand to my forehead. “She’s running a temperature. Doesn’t feel too high … Thank you. We appreciate it … She’s fine otherwise. I’m keeping her close to home. We’ve been very careful … Thank you. You, too.”

Mary hung up and pivoted her chair. “She’ll call back in an hour. In the meantime …” I saw where that was going and stood up and started pushing my pajama bottoms down to go over Mary’s lap. She stopped me.

“Mmm–mmm,” she said. “I think you’re learning your lesson already. Besides, I don’t spank little girls when they’re sick.” Well, that’s just not true because past times … but I didn’t feel like reliving the past right then.

“I’m sorry.”

“You look sorry. Come on.” She took my hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To put you back to bed.” We went upstairs, into our bedroom, and into the bathroom. “But a cool bath first will make you feel better. Arms up.”

I put my arms up because Mary is a robber who’s always telling me to put my arms up and then steals my shirt. But at least she asks. She rarely asks when she steals my pants. She ran the tub while I stood there being naked, which is an activity even if most people don’t think it is. Mary put her hand in the water to test the temperature, and I stepped in. It was tepid at best. I wanted a hot bath (I always want a hot bath), but that would make me feel worse.

“Lean forward,” Mary said, and I did and drew my knees up under me, put my arms around them, and rested my chin against them as Mary washed my back. “Of all the self–destructive habits you could have, this must be the most adorable in a silly way. Addicted to Q–tips ...”

“I don’t always get ear infections.”

“Nope, but often enough. You do know most adults almost never get an ear infection at all, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know what that makes you, right?”

“I’m not a little girl,” I said weakly. “Ahh!” Ear infections are sneaky. It’s a dull ache, and then all of a sudden there’s a sharp pain for a couple seconds.

“Such a silly girl. Does the water feel good?”

“Mhmm, but it’s cold.”

“Almost done. Arms up.”

Ooo, soap and hands and soapy hands went all over the place. Too bad I didn’t feel good enough to really enjoy it. Mary was true to her word and started keeping a small pitcher under the sink for washing my hair. She filled it with fresh water. “I’ll be very careful,” she promised and poured just a little in my hair at a time, just enough to get it wet without getting any in my ear.

She reached over to pull the plug, and I started to stand before she told me, “Sit.”

“I’m not that dizzy.”

“Are you not not dizzy? Then you can keep your bottom on the bottom of the tub.” She pulled a towel off the bar and waited until the water was gone. “So many goose bumps. Up we go.” She helped me stand, wrapped the towel around me, and steered me in front of the mirror. I stood still while she combed my hair. When she was done, she wrapped an arm around my belly, put her chin on my shoulder, gave me a kiss on the neck, and said, “I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” and gave me another kiss. “If you ever put one of those in your ear again …” She didn’t finish the sentence. Or she did, but with a couple of firm pats of the hairbrush to my betowelled butt, which she then un–betowelled and hung the towel back up.

Back to the bedroom we went, where Mary pointed to the bed. I sat and watched her get a cloth diaper out of the closet and some of those plastic panties. “Lay back, Daffy. We have a brand-new rule to discuss.”

“Do I get to discuss it,” I asked. Because not all of our discussions about rules involve discussing.

“Not really. Lift.” I lifted, and she situated. “If you’re sick, you’re in diapers.”

“O.” She sprinkled powder on my parts. Whenever she does that, she always gets a little on my tummy. I think she does that on purpose. She likes to rub it in. I like it when she rubs it in, but then I just like tummy rubs. And I swear I’m not a golden retriever. Really.

“You want jammies,” she asked.

“No.”

“You won’t be too cold?”

“Mmm–mmm.” I swear I’m not pathetic when I’m sick. I’m just monosyllabic sometimes when I’m sick.

“Under the covers with you then.” She lifted the covers, and I slid in, then she slid in behind me.

“Don’t you have to work,” I asked her.

“Yeah.”

“You should probably go do that then.”

“Such a bossy pants for someone wearing diapers.”

“I can be bossy in anything … when you let me.” I sure wish she’d let me be bossy more.

“You can be the boss of pants piddling whenever you’re in a diaper.”

“Marrry! Be nice to me. I’m ahhh! (sniff).”

“Getting worse?”

“Mhmm.”

“Aren’t natural consequences the worst?”

“Yes. Mary?”

“Mhmm?”

“This sucks.” Me and my stupid addictions. Sugar, Q–tips, peanut butter. The only good addiction is Mary.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“You’re very welcome. I like taking care of you.”