“Pops, please-” I was cut off by the sound of Alex crying. I quickly turned to go to him, then turned back, grabbed Julien to follow me, and charged back up the stairs. Pops and his inquisition would have to wait. Alex was sitting up in his bed, tears streaming down his face. His sheets were bunched at his waist, and as I went to pick him up I realized he had thrown up. “Oh, baby, It’s okay, Mama’s here,” I said, peeling off his wet shirt. I picked him up and tested his temperature by kissing his forehead. He wasn’t as hot as he had been before. The medicine was working. I handed him off to Julien and began stripping his sheets. Alex burrowed his face into Julien’s neck, clinging to him tightly, like a baby monkey. Julien rubbed his back and whispered comforting nonsense to him in Italian. Just as I had managed to gather all the bedding together to take to the laundry room, Alex jerked upright in Julien’s arms and vomited all down their fronts.
