Lost Immunity Daniel Kalla (reading women TXT) 📖

families?” Lisa calls after her, and Tyra waves her acknowledgment without turning back.

“I have to run, too.” Angela starts to rise, but she gets less than halfway up before her legs buckle and she falls back into the chair. Lisa hops up and hurries around the desk to help her. By the time she reaches the other side, Angela has managed to push herself up with both hands planted on the desk. “I’m good,” she says, leaning away from Lisa’s outstretched arm.

Lisa’s heart breaks watching Angela hobble out of the office with such obvious effort, but then her phone buzzes, and she looks down and sees the reminder on the screen for a marital counseling appointment in thirty minutes that had totally slipped her mind. It will never work, she thinks, struck by her own inadvertent double entendre. Taking a breath, she calls Dominic.

“Hey. I hate to do this to you—to us—but I don’t think I can make our session.”

There’s a pause. “You can’t?”

“We’ve got a new cluster of infections. And a bad vaccine reaction. I’m being pulled in every direction.”

“I’ll let Beverly know we’re canceling.”

The quiet in his voice tells her how upset he is. “I’m sorry, Dom. Even if I did go, I couldn’t give this the attention it deserves.” What she doesn’t say is that she couldn’t handle the added stress from another postcounseling debrief on top of all she’s facing at work.

“I get it, Lees. It’s just that I thought we agreed to make us a top priority.”

“We did.”

“Ever since you got this new job, it seems like you only have one priority.”

Is it too much to ask for one iota of support or understanding? But Lisa bites her tongue. “It’s chaos here, Dom.”

“Are you sure you even want to give this—us—‘the attention it deserves’?”

Lisa doesn’t mean to hesitate, but she wasn’t prepared for the question.

“Got it,” he says, without giving her another moment.

“Don’t read too much into this, Dom. Please. I’m in the eye of an ever-growing shit storm right now. I can’t think about anything else.”

“I know the feeling,” he says. “We’ll talk later.”

“OK. Thanks, Dom. I really am sorry—” But she hears dead air before she can get the words out. “FUBAR,” she mutters to herself.

The phone buzzes again. She glances down to read the text from Nathan. “Got time to talk?” it reads.

Aside from notifying Nathan of Mia’s vaccine-related reaction, Lisa hasn’t had a chance to discuss the potential impact with him. “Call me?” she types.

“Need coffee. How about we meet at our usual spot?”

Lisa smiles to herself before answering his text. “Sure.”

She heads out of the office on foot down the hill toward the coffee shop. Halfway there, the gray skies begin to drizzle, and she regrets not grabbing an umbrella as the rain steadily intensifies. Her hair is soaked by the time she walks through the door to the café and spots Nathan sitting at the same orange booth where they first met. There’s a steaming cup of coffee on the other side of the table.

He motions to it as she sits across from him. “Pour over. Black. Right?”

“Nailed it.” She shows him a grateful smile as she wipes away the drops running down her forehead. “Can’t believe I forgot my umbrella. Lived here way too long to make that rookie mistake.”

“Give yourself a break. You’ve had a pretty eventful day.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She tells him about the latest victims, including the antibiotic failure.

He shakes his head. “Beautiful as this city is, I’m glad my sons don’t live here.”

“Right now I kind of wish my niece didn’t, either.”

“And the girl with the rash? How is she?”

“Mia was stable an hour ago on the ventilator. But her skin’s in rough shape. It’ll be a long road to recovery.”

Nathan looks down at his own cup. “Nothing in the trials suggested this could happen.”

Lisa resists the urge to reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Of course not.”

“You haven’t heard of any other concerning reactions?”

“Nothing substantial, no. I just checked the website before I came.”

“That’s a relief,” he says. “Does this change anything with respect to the vaccination campaign?”

“From my perspective, no,” she says. “In fact, it’s becoming more and more clear that we need to get the most vulnerable population vaccinated. Could be the only way to halt the spread.”

“And your whole team is on board?”

“More or less,” she says, thinking of Moyes. “Obviously, there will be even more scrutiny over any further side effects.”

“Understandable.

“On a separate note, Nathan…”

“Yes?”

“Now that we’ve lowered the age of kids eligible for the vaccine, there’s going to be even more demand for it.”

“We’re shipping out more product. Will be here in a few days. Fiona tells me we should be OK with our current supply until then.”

Lisa sips her coffee, realizing that Nathan hasn’t touched his cup since she sat down.

“It’s really coming down now, huh?” He motions to the window, where, beyond the streaks and drips pooling on the glass, the rain is falling in sheets. “Sorry to drag you out in such a deluge.”

“Beats marriage counseling,” she murmurs.

“Oh?”

“It’s no big deal.” Lisa clears her throat, wondering why she mentioned it. “My husband and I were supposed to have gone to an appointment this afternoon. I couldn’t fit it in today.”

“Been there, done that.” Nathan nods. “Kind of like undergoing an amputation. Except without all the anesthetic.”

“It does leave you pretty raw sometimes, huh?”

“Like road rash.”

“You didn’t find it helpful?” she asks, surprised she’s discussing any of this with a man she hardly knows.

“Helped me get divorced. Wait. That’s not really fair. We had a good counselor. I learned a lot about my marriage. And myself.”

“Such as?”

“Annie and I…”

Lisa leans forward. “Yes?”

“Guess we eventually figured out that just because you still love each other, that doesn’t always mean you’re meant to stay together.”

And what if you’ve fallen out of love? Lisa keeps the thought to herself.

“How about you?” His eyes penetrate. “Are you finding it useful?”

“I think so. Maybe.