Major's Baby - A Military Romance by Emerson Rose

Author:Emerson Rose
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Prism Heart Press
Published: 2016-05-01T06:00:00+00:00

16

VIOLET

Shit storm surprise

My lungs hurt, it’s hard to breathe, and I just want to go home and crawl into bed. Unfortunately, per the usual lately, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with this project and I can’t leave.

“Violet, you sure you don’t want to go and lie down for a little while? You’re looking sort of pale,” Gene says.

Gene is sweet. He’s the total nerd package, though, all work and zero play. I know computer nerds are in style lately, but Gene isn’t the cool kind of nerd. He’s the nerdy kind of nerd. I find it amusing that a person who is so socially inept is a major computer designer for one of the largest social media platforms of our time.

I cough, and it hurts so bad my eyes water. “No thanks, the sooner we get done, the sooner I can go home to bed, so let’s just hurry, okay?”

“Sure, Violet, got it, hurry,” he mutters to himself, and I tap halfheartedly on my keyboard.

When I look up twenty minutes later after a long coughing jag, Gene looks like he’s at the end of a long tunnel. He’s talking to me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. The next thing I remember is Marie gently patting my cheek and telling someone to call an ambulance.

I try to open my eyes and tell her it’s not necessary and that I probably just passed out from coughing so hard, but I close my eyes and they are gone again.

The next time I come around, I’m looking into the face of a man in scrubs.

“Hello, Miss Washington, how are you feeling?”

I feel something pressing on my face and reach up to see what’s causing the discomfort.

“Oh no, let’s just leave that there for a while. We’re giving you some oxygen. You’ve got quite a bad case of pneumonia. Have you been to the doctor for your wheezing recently?” he asks, and a nurse enters the room and hands him a chart with my name on it.

“No I uh, I’ve been so busy at work and I just thought it was a bad cold or something. I have pneumonia? Are you sure? I don’t think I felt that bad,” I say, my voice cracking and croaking.

“Yes, I’m quite sure. Your oxygen saturation was in the upper seventies, low eighties when they brought you in. You fainted in your office, do you remember that?”

He’s flipping through the pages of the chart while he talks. Something he sees makes him stop suddenly.

“Sort of, I remember having tunnel vision and then I woke up for a minute, but other than that, not so much.”

Little spirals of smoke rise from the mask that’s muffling my speech. I watch them swirl up and away from my face and try to think about exactly how long I’ve been sick. It’s been a week, maybe ten days. I’ve been working so hard the past two months and my immune system is shot. I’ve caught every bug that’s gone around the office.

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