It's in the Genes

Wingdings

I couldn't tell if the flowers Niall bought were dying exceptionally quickly, or if my nose was just getting more stuffed, but I suspected the latter. I couldn't smell a damn thing.

I was getting really sick of being sick. It had dragged on for well over a month now, and instead of getting any better, it just kept getting worse. I felt like crap all of the time, and I knew losing my smell wasn't the worst symptom—the congestion in my chest, shortness of breath, and body aches were all way worse—but it was just one more thing. One more unpleasant symptom in a long line of discomforts.

I also found myself growing more concerned. At first, it was mildly surprising that I had gotten sick at all. It just wasn't a frequent experience. But now that it was lasting so long on top of that, and getting worse? That was an unlikely scenario on top of an unlikely situation—but it was mine. I didn't want to admit it, but I was getting worried.

I sighed and leaned into my irritation, if only to bite back the rising anxiety. Couldn't even enjoy the smell of flowers.

I heard the creaks and taps of someone descending the stairs and remembered what I had been in the kitchen to do—I was supposed to be packing our lunches. I was taking the kids out for a day at the museum. Niall was at work, but Parker and Sybil both finished their homework last night, and I figured a day out would be fun. I finished the kids' lunches and had been making my own when I was distracted by the flowers and leaned in to sniff them, only to be met with prompt disappointment and frustration.

Sybil padded softly into the kitchen, stretching and yawning. I got a glimpse of her fangs, resting against the roof of her mouth before she closed it again. She was dressed in an oversized band shirt whose name I could hardly read, skinny jeans, and converses. Sybil liked music with strong bass and low pitches, so different genres of metal were right up her alley. I'm sure the snake DNA had something to do with it, aside from her own personal taste. I didn't care for that kind of music, but she loved it, so when Niall and I took her shopping, we found ourselves more often than not in Hot Topic, staring at band names that looked more like a pile of thorns than actual words. Probably the most fun part about it was consulting with store clerks to make sure the text didn't say anything inappropriate.

"No spikes or chains today?" I joked with a grin.

Sybil cracked the tiniest of smiles. "I wasn't sure if security would make me take them off," she replied.

I nodded. The closest museum was not much to look at: small building, limited collection. Nonetheless, there was security at the entrance that made visitors walk through a metal detector and relinquish any water bottles in their possession. "Good idea," I agreed.

A few minutes later, Parker's rapid footsteps crashed against the stairs until he made his way into the kitchen as well. He was half-dressed, shirt off as he swung his brace in big loops around his arm. I wasn't surprised. Parker always delayed putting it on as long as he could. He would probably only put it on as we walked to the door.

He ambled up to me. "Dee, I'm hungry," he announced.

I chuckled. "You just had breakfast," I said.

"Yeah, but now I'm hungry again," he insisted with a frown. "Can I have a snack?"

I sighed and met his gaze. His wide, brown eyes looked up at me, and his pudgy cheeks puffed out even more with his pout. "Fine, fine," I agreed, shooing him in the direction of the refrigerator.

Parker pumped his fist and swung open the fridge, rifling through it until he found something that suited his craving while I finished packing our lunches.

-

I cherished the car ride to the museum. It was half an hour away, which meant half an hour of exerting relatively little energy beyond staying focused on the road and making conversation every now and then—so getting out of the car required a fair amount of physical and emotional energy.

I trailed behind Parker and Sybil as we made our way from the parking lot to the front entrance. Not that I didn't do that often anyway, if only to keep an eye on them, but today, exhaustion was the reason. I found myself wishing Niall was with me. He couldn't do anything about the fatigue, but at least he would be another pair of eyes to watch the kids and be present.

I was pushing myself not to show how I felt. I didn't want to worry Sybil or Parker—it's my job to worry about them, and not the other way around. Plus, I wanted them to enjoy our outing, which would be hard to do if I let on to how difficult this was for me.

If Niall was here, I wouldn't have to push myself so hard. But the reality was, he was pushing himself right now too, and would be for several months to come. He had to dedicate so much time to the farm, and that wasn't easy either.

I picked up my pace as we made our way to the front, getting tickets and pamphlets, and going through security.

"Hey, there are two new exhibits since the last time we were here," I pointed out to the kids, tapping the pamphlet where they were listed.

"Local marine life and a new artist," Sybil murmured as she scanned the page through her thick sunglasses.

What the artist's installation would feature was anyone's guess, but I imagined the marine life exhibit contained a lot about lobsters—Maine's claim to fame.

"Which do you want to see first?" I asked.

Sybil responded with "the artist" just as Parker responded with "marine life." They frowned and looked at each other, glaring and not willing to give up their preference to the other.

"I was first," Sybil said.

"No, you weren't!" Parker replied, his voice rising. He turned to me and pointed at Sybil. "She's a liar!"

"No, I'm not!" Sybil insisted, crossing her arms. "I was just first and you don't want to admit it!"

Before things could escalate any further, I stopped the both of them. "You said it at the same time, you wingdings," I said, trying to hide my irritation. I did not feel like dealing with a fight right now. "We're going to see both at some point today, so there's no need to get uppity."

"Yeah, but I wanna see the art first. There's almost never art exhibits here," Sybil said, pouting a little.

She did have a point, but I honestly didn't feel like hearing the whining that would come about if I chose her preference over Parker's. Perhaps I could have done some better "parenting" in the moment, but I was too tired.

"You're both going to rock-paper-scissors for it," I told them.

I couldn't get blamed for chance.

I could see the shadow of Sybil's eyes rolling behind her sunglasses, but she held her hand at the ready, as did Parker.

"Okay, on my count," I said. "Rock, paper, scissor—shoot!"

Sybil held her hand flat: paper. Parker's balled fist indicated rock.

"Aw, man!" Parker whined in dismay, but gave no further protest—thankfully. Sybil had won fair and square.

"Artist it is, then," I murmured, looking at the museum map that indicated where the installation would be. When I looked up from the paper, the world seemed to tilt from side to side and I felt suddenly dizzy. I took a slow breath in, exhaled, and then breathed in slowly again. The tilting and dizziness gradually subsided.

"You okay?" Sybil asked, her gaze hidden behind her glasses, but still seeming to bore into me.

I nodded. "Yeah, fine. Just trying to remember which way we should go to get to that part of the museum," I lied.

"I know which way!" Parker said helpfully, in spite of his earlier disinterest. Perhaps he liked having something useful to do.

Sybil didn't say anything, but kept glaring at me—a fact that I elected to ignore by turning to Parker. "Great! Lead the way!"

Parker grabbed the pamphlet from my hands and began to walk ahead like a little pioneer. I followed behind and Sybil stayed by my side. I saw her occasionally glance my way, but didn't address it.

I just kept walking, focusing on my breathing, and trying to ignore the occasional dizziness that swept over my body and distorted my vision.