Never Cover up What We Did With a Dress

Two long, saddened months had passed since Demi and Tony split up. Demi was still staying in our home, the only difference now was that she’d taken most of her things from Tony’s home and kept them with her in our apartment. I was thankful we had a spare room in the apartment.

Manson and I tried to talk to both of them separately to work it out, and although they both wanted to be together, neither of them could bring themselves to forgive one another. Demi didn’t want to hear it.

The constant stress of Demi’s situation, as well as the effort of having to look after a new baby, was testing on our relationship. More and more frequently we would disagree, and these conflicting issues would usually end in arguments that were usually resolved by the next morning. Even so, our relationship had seen much better days.

What was even more worrying for me was the fact that we hadn’t really been together for very long. Although I wasn’t certain everything would end in disaster, I had sickening ominous feelings in my stomach.

I was lying on the couch, listening to Demi rustling around in the kitchen, stroking my stomach absentmindedly when the phone rang. Lily was out with Manson at the park, but I had felt too tired and queasy to join them.

“Can you get that Dem?” I called.

She nodded from the counter and walked toward the phone that was hanging on the wall. I closed my eyes, still hearing the ringing. When it continued after thirty seconds I looked around at her. Her eyes were wide, and she was standing in front of the phone, totally still.

“Who is it?” I asked, noticing she was staring at the caller-ID.

She didn’t reply, but I soon found out who it was when the message bank picked it up.

“Demi what are you doing? Answer it!” I cried, getting up and making for the phone, answering it just before Tony finished speaking.

“Hello?”

“Chesney?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I… I uh… is Demi there?”

“She is. Do you want to talk to her?”

“Uh… yeah… please.”

I pressed the phone to my chest and whispered it Demi.

“Talk to him. Now.”

“No!” She cried. “I can’t.”

“Demi, you’re not staying on my couch any longer, okay? You love Tony and he loves you. Just talk to him.”

Demi swallowed, reluctance clear in her eyes. Shaking, she took the phone from my hand and timidly said hello.

I couldn’t tell you how long they were talking, but it was a while. When Demi came back to me in the living room, she was smiling, but her face was red and tear stained. Manson had come home in the time they spoke, but he was in Lily’s room with her. It was like that a lot.

“What happened?”

I knew Demi was dying for me to ask her that by the look on her face. She smiled widely and collapsed onto the couch beside me, squealing a groan as her hands covered her face and she bent over her knees.

“I don’t know what to do!” She cried, but she was smiling still. “I love him, and I want to be with him, and the way he just spoke to me and the things he said… I want to go back to him, so much.”

“Well go then.”

Her face dropped slightly. “I don’t know if I can trust him anymore, though.”

“Demi, this is Tony we’re talking about. He hasn’t done anything bad in his life. He only neglected telling you about his ex wife because he didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“So? What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing!” She cried, running back to the kitchen and calling Tony back.

___________________________________________________________

“Are you okay?” I asked Manson later on that night. Demi had moved back with Tony and Lily was asleep.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied quietly, staring at the T.V. in front of him. His voice was not welcoming for conversation.

“You seem… distant. You’re not talking to me anymore.” I said, and I could hear the hurt in my voice.

Manson moved his rimmed eyes toward me, taking in my sunken face and the stinging tears that were pricking at my eyes. I didn’t know how we had gone from being all lovey-dovey to this. We barely spoke anymore.

Normally, Manson would have gotten up and kissed my forehead, telling me he was sorry and that he was just tired and that he loved me. But this time he didn’t. He stayed seated on the couch, just looking at me, his eyes blank.

“Can you tell me why?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Manson rolled his eyes in frustration and sighed, standing up. He threw the remote to me and I caught it, surprised.

“I’m tired.” He said simply, beginning to walk into the bedroom.

I could tell my eyes were wide with shock and my mouth was slightly gaping open. I didn’t understand what was wrong, and more so I didn’t know why he didn’t want to speak to me. Crying, I got up and switched off the television, making my way into the bedroom. I wiped my tears before I entered. Manson was lying in bed in his boxer shorts; make-up still caked on his face. His eyes were closed and he was turned around, facing away from my side of the bed and toward the door.

“Is that what you are?” I asked, “tired?”

He groaned in response and I stayed leaning against the door.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “One second you loved me, and the next you ignore me? All you do in the day is spend time with Lily, and when she’s asleep you’re painting. I haven’t seen you try to write any songs recently either. Are you not happy with me? Have you changed your mind?”

“Chesney. Not now.”

I sighed, feeling utterly helpless. I couldn’t even feel angry with him. Instead I pulled off my tracksuit pants and jumped into bed next to him, feeling as though we were miles apart. Hot tears pricked at my eyes. Why did this always happen? Why was I never happy?

Lily cried from next door, and immediately I sat up to soothe her. Manson did as well.

“I’ll go.” He said firmly.

I was already out of bed, pulling on my pants.

“She’s my daughter too.” I said, walking out of the room, feeling hurt at his reactions.

When I walked into her room, Lily was standing up in her crib, holding onto the wooden bars and crying loudly. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were steamy. Immediately I knew there was something else wrong with her. Not only did she never wake up in the middle of the night, but her face was so red it alarmed me, and her cries were short and strained. I rushed to her crib and picked her up, slightly recoiling when I felt her body against mine. It was so hot, sweat was coming through her clothes. She was still crying when I took her into my bedroom, turning on the light and laying her down where I was dozing off moments before.

“What’s wrong with her?” Manson said, sitting upright, knowing like me that something was not right. He leaned over her. “Chesney! What’s wrong with her?”

“How would I know more than you?” I cried back at him, pulling off Lily’s clothes. “All I can see is that it’s obvious she has a terrible fever.”

“Look!” Manson yelled, pointing to her chest. “She has a rash too.”

“I’m taking her to the hospital. Now.”

Manson was already up, pulling on his clothes and passing me a jacket. He held his arm around my waist as we flew out of the apartment, Lily still crying and irritable. It was the most amount of intimate contact I had had with him for over two months.

She continued to cry, the rash was getting much worse, and yet she seemed extremely drowsy. Manson couldn’t drive, which meant he and Lily sat in the back while I drove us to the hospital. I could barely see the road though my blurry tears. What was wrong with her?

“Manson how is she?” I asked.

“Not any better.”

We arrived at the UCSF Children's Hospital and I left my car opposite the emergency entrance. Manson carried her in.

“Can I help you Sir?” The nurse behind the desk choked as she realised who she was talking to. I ran up next to him, my eyes still blurry. Manson couldn’t talk as he stared down at Lily. She was almost fully asleep, her face red and her skin hot, covered in small rashes. Her back seemed to have swelled a little.

“Our daughter is sick.” I said dumbly. “I went in to see she because she was crying… and she had such a bad temperature… and now she has a rash…”

“Her back looks swollen.” The nurse said. “Let me call you a doctor immediately. How old is she?”

“Six months.” Manson said.

The nurse nodded and rushed off down the corridor, and the panic on her face made my stomach churn. I started crying harder. Manson gave Lily to me as some sort of comfort, and I loosely hugged her, not wanting to hurt her. I was shaking with nerves. Within five minutes a doctor was with us, guiding us into an examination room. I fixed my eyes on the butterflies and lions and suns that were painted on the walls.

“Can you explain to me exactly what happened? When did you start to be alarmed?”

“She never wakes up at night.” I said. “I went in and she was screaming, all red and hot. Then she started getting this rash… and her back is swelling a little. I don’t know, her temperature is really high…”

“You did the right thing in coming here straight away.” The doctor said. “Now, we have to run some tests and things to be sure – but my suspicions are telling me that Lily has meningitis.”

Manson swallowed, and I reached for his hand.

“Meningitis?” Manson repeated.

“Yes. I don’t want to alarm you – nothing is certain – but if Lily does in fact have meningitis she’ll have to stay in hospital for a while, as there can be many complications assosciated with the illness. Meningitis is classed as a medical emergency because not only does it spread quickly through the body but the spinal cord and brain can swell, which are the central controllers of the body. Now, because Lily is so young we will of course take more considerate care of her.”

“What makes you think it’s meningitis?”

“Well, apart from the fact that Lily is experiencing close to all of the signs and symptoms, this rash is telling me that she is suffering from a certain kind of bacterial meningitis - and bacterial meningitis is very dangerous in infants.”

“Can she die from it?” I asked, my voice wobbly.

“Chesney.” Manson said, not wanting to know.

The doctor watched us while the nurses took some blood and a small sample of Lily’s rash. I watched the nurses touching my daughter, wanting to stop her cries and pain but knowing that I couldn’t. Manson’s hand gripped mine as the doctor opened his mouth again.

“In severe cases… yes. Death is likely to occur.”

I closed my eyes and exhaled, knowing tears were running from my eyes. Manson snaked his arm around me and pulled me to him, holding me as I began to shake. Death is likely to occur in severe cases? He was already certain she had meningitis. What would happen if Lily died? I cleared my mind of all thought, unable to picture life with out her.

“I’ll get the test back to you as soon as possible, but for now you’ll just have to wait.”

“Where will Lily be?”

“The nurses will be looking after her. We have to take a sample of her spinal fluids to see if she does have meningitis, and as soon as we can we'll make sure she takes some intravenous antibiotics. As soon as we find anything out, you’ll know.”

“Thank you.” Manson muttered into my hair as the doctor left the room along with the nurses, and Lily.

“She’ll be okay.” Manson whispered to me. “She will be.”

I just hoped he was right.