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“Are you sure about cooking tonight?” Caroline asked as May put a package of farfetch’d thighs in the cart.
“I want to be able to treat you to dinner! You and Dad have been really supportive of me attending uni.“
“Of course, we’d be supportive, that’s not the issue.” Caroline shifted to stand in front of the cart while May looked through vegetables in the produce aisle. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I saw a recipe on TikTok. I know what I’m doing!“
“Marisela, this is not helping my reservations.” Caroline huffed. “Don’t pick that avocado. It has mold.”
May pouted. “You wouldn’t be like this if Max was cooking.”
“The other day Max took a thermometer to the ribs your father was smoking to make sure they were the correct internal temperature. I’m not really worried about him.” Caroline drummed her fingers against the walls of the produce mister. “You're giving me too much anxiety. Dad asked me to get sunscreen for our flight to Paldea tomorrow, and I need to pick up my prescription. Look for white fuzz before you put any more produce in that cart.”
May continued to pout as Caroline went off to pick up her medication. May filled the cart with non-moldy vegetables, a six-pack of her father’s favorite beer, and a bag of food for normal-type pokemon. They met at checkout, headed home, and after putting away groceries, May began to cook. Her focus was on making sure the food was edible and following the recipe to its exact specifications. That way, in case anyone got sick, she could blame it on the TikTok recipe and not her cooking.
She hoped, anyway.
Surprisingly, dinner and cooking had gone off without a hitch. May enjoyed being close to her family again, and she intended to make the most of what precious little time they had together. They finished eating late, each of them dragging dinner on as long as possible to stretch out the time.
“Well, dinner was great, but I believe your father and I have to get ready for an early flight tomorrow,” Caroline said, moving to clean up the kitchen table. Max copied her actions, gathering silverware and placing it on a plate for easier carrying.
“Dad’s going with?” Max nudged her with his hip, catching Caroline’s gaze. Caroline nodded. May and Max shared a confused look.
“Didn’t mom tell you she was going to Paldea?” Max asked.
“No? She made it sound like Dad was going to Paldea.” May looked to her mother, who huffed and put her hands on her hips.
“It’s not my fault neither of you communicate. Or actively listen to me when I tell you things.”
“There’s a league conference in Paldea. You’re both big kids now - I’m sure you’ll be okay being left alone,” Norman yawned, taking the dishes from Max’s hands and beginning to load the dishwasher.
Max furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing.
May cocked her head to the side, motioning to her mother. “Why are you going to Paldea?”
“I already told you: I’m presenting my research to the Paldean League chairwoman on how a partnership with the Napajian League would improve the lives of Paldean children through increased - you’re no longer listening. Your eyes just glazed over.” Caroline snorted.
“I tried!” May defended herself. “I was paying attention, at least.”
Norman shook his head and laughed, moving to kiss May on the temple. He wrapped his arms around her middle, placing his chin atop her head. “At least you can say you tried, sweetheart.”
May pouted but perked up when her next thought popped into her head. “Oh, can Drew come over tomorrow?”
Norman shrugged. “I don’t care, but your brother might.”
Max spoke up. “I do care. I’m too young to be an uncle-”
“HEY-”
Norman snickered at that. Caroline furrowed her eyebrows and then sighed.
“Just make sure the house is clean and don’t let him in my office. He can’t see I live like that.”
May dropped her parents off at the airport around midnight. Norman had decided to take a red eye, however, due to the unfavorable flight time, they were able to afford business class for the ten-hour flight. Caroline was a notoriously horrible flier, white-knuckling her bag as they sat in the gate. After a dose of her prescribed anxiety medication, she was much more comfortable, snoring on his shoulder as soon as she hit the seat and covered herself with a blanket. Norman was wide awake and decided to read a novel he had brought. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was ecstatic that Caroline had chosen to cuddle with him most of the flight. They both had been busy, and he desperately missed her company.
Caroline woke up with an hour left in the flight, nauseated and cranky. She rushed off to the bathroom, and Norman followed in concern, holding her hair back for her. She wiped her face with a cold paper towel. Norman propped the door open - on one hand, it was a small bathroom, and on the other, he didn’t want any rumors flying around about the two of them.
“Do you feel better?” Norman asked. He attributed her sickness to her motion sickness and poor time flying and hoped as soon as they touched down she’d feel better.
“No,” she whined, shakily standing up and heading back to their seat.
They touched down a short while later, and Caroline felt no better. Norman sat with her at baggage claim, worryingly glancing down at her.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“My stomach hurts,” Caroline whined, her face screwed up in pain.
Norman leaned against the wall. “Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?”
“We just touched down in Paldea. It’s probably something I ate on the plane.” She winced as another wave of pain hit her, sliding down to the ground, her breathing rapid and shallow. Norman rushed to her side, but she held out her hand, motioning for him to give her a minute. Norman dialed emergency services on his phone, placing the back of his hand against her forehead.
“No, babe, it’s not something you ate. You’re burning up.”
“You can have a fever with food poisoning,” she whimpered. “Please don’t call 911,” she added with a groan.
Norman slid his hands underneath her and picked her up bridal style, his phone jammed between his shoulder and cheek. “Stop being argumentative. If you’re in so much pain you can’t stand, you need to go to the hospital,” he chided.
With direction from airport staff, the paramedics came quickly to the correct gate and got Caroline loaded onto the stretcher. Norman walked alongside her as the paramedics hooked her up to the monitor and got readings of vital signs and her heart rhythm. The paramedic spoke little Napajian, but Norman spoke Paldean due to his Anahuanian heritage, so he was able to easily translate. Caroline let out a low hiss as they rolled her into the back of the ambulance, in pain from being jostled, and Norman felt his worry grow. Caroline had a high pain tolerance and had brushed off sports injuries that would make him pass out - she really must’ve been in excruciating pain. The paramedic tied a tourniquet around her arm, looking for a vein to start an IV. He went through the motions of inserting the catheter. Norman grabbed her free hand as the ambulance began to move.
“¿Qué le estás dando?” Norman asked, motioning to Caroline’s arm.
“Fentanilo y líquidos intravenosos,” the paramedic responded, drawing a medication into a syringe. His partner began to prime IV tubing, hanging a bag of fluids from a hook on the ceiling. The paramedic motioned for Norman to sit on the bench against the side of the ambulance as his partner went up front to drive.
“Ah, cosas buenas,” Norman grinned. The paramedic chuckled as he pushed the medication through her IV, flushing the medication into her veins with saline and then hooking her up to the IV fluids. Caroline’s face was still screwed up, but she seemed to relax after several moments.
“How much fentanyl did he give me?” She shifted on the stretcher into a position in which she was more comfortable. Judging by her expression, she seemed to be in much less pain now.
“I didn’t ask,” Norman said, running his thumb over the back of her hand.
Caroline furrowed her eyebrows. “I feel insane.”
Norman smiled at her, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. “Do you feel better? Or just insane?”
“Both.”
“I’m going to call the kids,” Norman said. He tried calling May first, but it went to voicemail. Max picked up on the second ring.
“Did you make it to Paldea okay?”
“Well, we touched down safely, if that’s what you meant. Mom needs to go to the hospital-”
“What? Is she alright?”
“Let me talk to him,” Caroline slurred. Norman furrowed his eyebrows - the medication was certainly kicking in. Her words were nearly incomprehensible.
“Beloved, I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”
Caroline pouted at him. He handed her the phone, putting it on speaker.
“Maaaax. Maaaaaax,” she called into the receiver.
Norman could hear a panicked edge to Max’s voice. “Mom? Are you okay?”
“They gave her a very strong pain medication. We’re going to the hospital now. She’s stable,” Norman explained, leaning closer to the phone. “Breathe, little one. Please tell your sister for me.”
Max seemed to relax at that. “Will do. Any idea what’s wrong?”
“No clue. The paramedic says that we’ll have a better idea once she gets a CT scan. She collapsed from stomach pain close to fifteen minutes after we picked up our suitcases.”
“Maaaax. Do you want to hear me talk in minion?” Caroline mumbled.
“Mom, maybe you should rest-”
“A bee boop boop bop. Bop bop beep bop boop-”
Max started giggling on the other end of the receiver. Norman resisted the urge to break out into laughter.
Caroline shifted, pointing to the emesis bag holder against the wall. The paramedic handed her one. “I feel sick. Norman, will you forgive me if I throw up?”
“Why would I be upset if you throw up?”
Caroline began to tear up. “You have to promise me you’ll forgive me if I throw up!”
Norman pushed the bangs out of her eyes. “I promise you. Close your eyes and try to rest. That might make the nausea better.”
Caroline nodded, closing her eyes. “Naruto and Sasuke are fighting in the cabinets,” she said sagely.
Caroline was quickly seen in the ER and whisked off to a CT scan. After being worked up for any life-threatening conditions, she was wheeled back to the room. The pain medication she was given in the ambulance had long worn off, however, the doctor was keeping her comfortable with another medication - one that she was much more coherent on. The doctor had diagnosed her with diverticulitis and put her on IV antibiotics and IV fluids, and she was set to be transferred upstairs for a day or so so she could fight the infection.
“How are you feeling?” Norman asked.
“Tired,” she yawned. “Better, though. I remember none of that ambulance ride.”
Norman laughed. “It’s probably better you don’t.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he saw it was May calling, he answered, putting the phone on speaker.
“MOM’S SICK?” She screeched, her voice a discordant static through the speakers. “Why didn’t you let me know sooner?!”
“You didn’t pick up and your brother did,” Norman shrugged.
“I was hanging out with Drew-” May began.
Max interrupted. “I wasn’t gonna get in the middle of that unless Mom was in active cardiac arrest.”
Caroline snorted. “Glad to know you would’ve interrupted your sister making out with her boyfriend if I was dying, sweetheart. That makes me feel loved and appreciated.”
“Technically, you’d be already dead if you were in cardiac arrest,” Max quipped.
“I wasn’t making out with Drew!” May yelled.
Norman rubbed his temples in aggravation. “They’re admitting her for a day or two, then we’ll be free to perform our obligations here.”
Caroline frowned. “It really sucks our vacation time is gonna be used up by me being sick in the hospital. I’m sorry.”
Norman waved his hand. “Don’t apologize. I’d rather you be getting the care you need. Maybe our flight will be delayed and I can figure out why these colonizers like yogurt on their sandwiches.”
May spoke up. “Yogurt? On a sandwich? Blegh!”
On the other end of the line, the tone shifted. It was subtle, but Norman knew his children - Max was getting ready to stir the pot.
“Hey, Mom - what do you think got you sick?”
“How do we diffuse this?” Caroline mouthed. Norman shrugged, returning her nervous gaze.
“They’re adults now. If they kill each other, is it still our problem?” Norman whispered. Caroline furrowed her eyebrows in disapproval but said nothing.
“I mean, the last thing you ate before you got sick was May’s cooking-”
May became immediately incensed. “Oh, screw you, Max-”
Caroline interrupted their bickering. “At first, I thought there was something wrong with my gallbladder, not my intestines. My mother had a history of gallstones.”
“She’s dodging the question,” Max tsked.
Caroline huffed. “I am not dodging the question!” She pushed her bangs out of her face. “You know, diverticulitis is really common in older people and has no known causes-“
May began to pout on the other side of the line. “Do you think my cooking caused you to get sick?”
Caroline rubbed the back of her neck. “Do you want me to be honest?”
May nodded.
“Yes,” Caroline said, without missing a beat. Norman guffawed next to her.
May sighed. “Every day I am persecuted in this family.”
“It’s because we love you,” Caroline cooed.
May snorted. “Oh, I’m certainly feeling the love alright.”
Max snickered. “Yeah, I’m sure you felt Drew’s love too-”
May gasped on the other line and began to yet again screech, causing her parents to wince and turn the phone speaker down. “SHUT THE FU-”
“Stop it, jesus,” Norman groaned. “Your mother is sick. Can you behave yourselves for at least one phone call?”
“I’m pretty entertained by this, honestly,” Caroline giggled.
Norman shook his head and smiled at her. “Don’t encourage them.”
“I hope you get to feeling better soon, Mom!” May chirped.
“Don’t worry, I already am,” Caroline said, smiling. “I love you both. Take care of yourselves. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you!” Both the siblings chirped in unison before hanging up. Norman laid his head on the rails of the stretcher.
“You had me worried for a minute. I thought you were having a heart attack or something,” Norman said, looking up at her. Caroline pushed his bangs off of his forehead, moving to play with the hair behind his ears.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she laughed. Norman shifted to kiss her on the forehead, slow and reverent.
“I would never want to,” he affirmed. Caroline smiled at him. Norman shifted to lean back in his chair, arms behind his head.
“Do you really think that her cooking caused you to get sick?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Caroline laughed. “At my last colonoscopy, they told me I have diverticulosis - that’s the pouching in the intestine, not the current infection like I have. I was pretty sure it was going to happen sooner or later.”
Norman smiled at her, confusion across his face. “Then why did you tell her that?”
Caroline grinned back at him. “How else am I supposed to get back at her after 22 hours of labor?”