Err on the Side of Violence: Terribly Acronymed Detective Club Series (Book 3)

Chapter Thirty-One: Joe, Summer-Fall, 2005

"Umberto and me went grocery shopping," Mom said. "When we come home, he drive funny, almost hit the cars in the other lane, even on other side of the road."

"Jesus, Ma, you could have been killed," Joe breathed.

She nodded. "I had to grab the steering wheel so he don't crash. We get home, but he park funny, break the side mirror. I say, Umberto, you okay? He say he a little dizzy. I make us some dinner, he eats, but later he throw it up on the kitchen floor. He don't even go to the bathroom!" She said this last in amazement, as if this part, more than any other part of the episode, was what had alarmed her most.  

"Ma, why didn't you call me then?" Joe asked. "You had to know something was wrong then."

She shook her head, furiously wiping tears from her eyes. "I know, but Umberto say he have a nap, maybe he feel better. Then... well, you see..." She gestured to the result on the hospital bed.

The doctor nodded along as if this all made sense, jotting notes on the intake form. "This disorientation, lack of motor control, nausea and fever, point to some kind of inflammatory event in either the brain or spinal cord. We're going to have to quarantine him and take a spinal tap in the rare case it's some kind of bacterial meningitis."

Joe took an involuntary step away from the bed, and it shamed him, but he said, "Jesus, doc, I have kids at home. Should I even be here?"

"It's a small possibility," he said, seeming unconcerned. "If you're worried, though, you can stay here until we have the results of the spinal tap."

"How would he even get meningitis?" he asked in dismay. "Isn't that a kid's disease?"

"Not necessarily, although it does occur more frequently in kids and teens. Again, we're just taking every precaution we can. Why don't you and your mom give us some room, we'll move him to the isolation room, and we'll do our tests."

While he waited out in the parking lot, with his poor mother under his arm, for them to move his father to a closed door room in the emergency ward, he called Lauren to let her know he was at the hospital and probably wouldn't be back for a while.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," he said. "The doctor called it an inflammatory event in either the brain or spinal cord."

"What the fuck? How does that happen?"

"I have no idea. They're still trying to find out what caused it."

"Okay, well, take all the time you need. I'll hold down the fort here. Tell your mom my thoughts are with him and with her."

"Dad's going to need a lot of prayers," he said. "I've never seen anything like this before. I know you don't pray, but could you ask the kids to pray a little?"

"My thoughts will work just as well as their prayers, but I'll tell them. What should I say is wrong with him?"

He closed his eyes and felt the sting of tears. "Just... tell them he's sick, and that he'll be better soon, but he needs their prayers right now."

"Okay. I love you. We love you."

"I love you too."

He hung up and tried Johnny. This time he picked up, and he was dumbfounded by the news of what befell their father. He rushed over right away, and Mom got to receive comfort from her eldest son. 

"Can I see him?" Johnny asked. 

"They were moving him to an isolation room just in case he has something infectious like meningitis."