Us vs the World

jude
I rinsed out the glass and left it to drain on the counter. My feet
were cold against the kitchen lino and I wished I’d put my slippers
on. As I headed back to bed, I anticipated the cosiness of
snuggling under the duvet.
‘His hand moved, I saw it,’ Sam says.
I look at Adam’s hand. His fingers twitch.
‘Thank God. Oh, thank God. Adam, Adam,’ I lean over the bed,
shake him by the shoulders. ‘Adam, you gave us such a fright.’
Sam takes his dad’s hand, cradles the arm that hangs out of bed.
‘His arm’s all cold, Mum.’
‘Adam, Adam, wake up, darling. Oh, God. I should have phoned
an ambulance.’
I honestly thought he was dead. The shock of that was so great
I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to set things in motion.
Make the call that would lead to him being taken away.
I glance across at the bedside table. The paracetamol lies
untouched, next to the glass of water. Adam’s phone is there too.
I bring it to life, my finger hovering over the button for emergency
calls.
I checked the alarm clock as I got back into bed.
1:38am
I pulled the covers right up to my neck, pushed my feet between
Adam’s thighs to warm them up. He was roasting, heat radiating
from him. His pyjamas were damp, the sheets around him
clammy.
‘Adam, are you okay?’
I rolled towards him, rested my palm against his forehead.
I lifted the duvet, wafted it up and down.
‘I think you’ve got a fever,’ I said.
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