A Bellyful of Slough Water

The Upper Basin Chronicles

Chapter 26

A Bellyful of Slough Water

Later that evening, Rose went to bed early. Grandma Teresa thought she looked a little peaked. In fact, Rose did not feel well at all. She'd had so much fun with Mai, first helping Grandma Teresa pick snap beans in the garden and preparing them for canning. Then, going with Dad to the wetland slough and splashing around. She'd even gone in over her head during the pirate battle. (The water was deeper than she thought. Yet, Rose could swim, thanks to her mother's insistence that they take the kids to town three times a week during June lessons.) Rose came up sputtering, spitting and coughing, however. Mai pulled her back aboard the inner tube by her arms. Later, Grandma Teresa had challenged them to a game of Scrabble before time to fix dinner. Rose was a little sad when Mai's parents picked her up. Mai's parents seemed pleased that the girls enjoyed each other so much. Surely Mai would get to come again.

At the dinner table, Rose didn't eat much. She tasted the green beans. She ate a few scalloped potatoes with ham, a dish she really loved. She drank a little milk. She tried the ripe melon, but mostly just moved the food around on her plate. Finally, when she started to lay her head down on the table, Alexander sent her off to bed.

"I think you're coming down with a bug, young lady. Go on up to bed now, and I'll come tuck you in in a minute."

Rose pulled herself out of her chair and slumped lethargically, first against her great-grandmother, and then her grandfather, in what was for her faint shadows of good night hugs. She waved a limp hand at her brother Michael, who kept his distance. Little Lucy waved back from her booster chair.

"C'mon, sweet peep, I'll take you up," said Alexander, who scooped her up into his arms. His bare feet gripped the worn oak stair treads as carried her up the narrow stairs.

Two hour later, Rose sat suddenly upright in bed. She vomited a gushing projectile of half-digested food and liquid all over the summer quilt her mother and great-grandmother had made to match the curtains in her room.

Rose began to cry, "Mom! Mom-ma! Mom-MA! I'm sick! Ohhhh! I'm sick."

Her wailing reached Alexander reading Progressive Farmer in the living room recliner. He bounded up the stairs to find Grandma Teresa, stooped and toothless in her white nightgown, already leading Rose to the bathroom with an arm around her shoulders.

"It's OK, baby, your stomach is just upset," said Teresa. Alexander got a clean washcloth and hand towel from the linen drawer while Teresa pulled Rose's soiled pajama top over her head.

Rose sobbed, "I'm sorry I ruined my quilt. Mom-ma! I want my Mom!"

"Don't worry, Rosie," said Alexander, "we can wash it. Your mom understands. She'd be here if she could be, you know she would. She loves you very much." He drew Rose's dark hair back from her face while Teresa gently wiped away the vomit. Rose's face felt hot, very hot. Teresa looked at Alexander. Alexander looked at his watch, 8:10 p.m.

Then, Rose pulled away from them with an "Oh, no!" and leaped to the toilet, pulling down her bottoms as she sat. The sour smell of a second gushing discharge filled the bathroom.

"Ow, my tummy hurts, Daddy!" Rose bend double and put her face in her hands, crying quietly.

"I know, Pumpkin. I'm sorry you don't feel good." Alexander knelt by the toilet and rubbed his child's skinny back. Grandma Teresa rinsed the washcloth with cold water.

"Sit up, young-un. Let me wipe your face again with this cool cloth," she said. Rose sat up, and allowed her great-grandmother to sponge her face, now red with fever. Alexander handed Rose some toilet paper.

After she had washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and rinsed her mouth again at the sink, Rose felt a little better. The rough cotton of the line-dried towel smelled good as she dried her face. It smelled clean, like a summer day, like her mother did when they had folded towels together in the yard not so long ago.

Back in her bedroom, while Rose sat in her little chair by the window with the oscillating fan blowing cool evening air on her, Grandma Teresa and Alexander stripped the quilt and sheets from the bed, and quickly made it up clean again.

"Good night, little one," said Grandma Teresa as Alexander tucked her in. She kissed her on the forehead. "Try to drink some water, honey. I love you!"

Alexander sat with Rose, on the edge of her bed until his grandmother left the bathroom. He went downstairs for a clean glass, and filled it with cold tap water at the kitchen sink. While the water ran cold, he looked out the west window and southwest toward the wetland. What made this child sick tonight, he wondered. No one else at their table got ill after dinner. Was it swimming in the pothole? Was Mai sick, too? He'd heard the big splash and sputtering. Did Rose get a bellyful of slough water? That seemed likely. He recalled the gully cut in the top of his grass waterway, and the obvious flood of runoff from Harold's breached terrace, all running down into the wetland below. What came off Harold's ground? He wondered. Could that make a child this sick? How would he know?

Alexander, suddenly feeling very tired, climbed the stairs again with the glass of water.

"You still feel hot, Rosie. Here, drink some water, baby. We need to get the thermometer. I think you've got a big fever," he said. Alexander held his daughter by her shoulders while she drank from the glass he held for her. Rose drank the whole glass.

Ten seconds later, Rose Murphy threw up again, vomiting the water from her stomach again onto her bed in violent retching. Alexander comforted her, "It's OK, Rosie, you're gonna be all right." Rose cried.

Alexander took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night, and the sun was still to set.

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Next week... "Not All Consumed by Soil Critters," Chapter 27.

The Upper Basin Chronicles, Chapter 26 was written and edited by John Gabbert.

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The characters presented here are purely fictional, and neither bear resemblance to persons living or dead, nor represent the views or opinions of Saint Mary’s University of Minnesota.