Lost Immunity Daniel Kalla (reading women TXT) 📖

“I’m fine, muffin. Good as ever. The upside of the farming life. All the fresh air and GMO-free food keeps even ancient bodies like mine going.”

“Mom sounds good, too. I spoke to her a few days ago.”

“You did, did you?” A familiar accusatory edge creeps into his tone, and Lisa realizes her mom must not have mentioned the call.

“Just a short chat. About nothing, really,” she says, falling back into the old habit of trying to protect her mom from her dad’s ire.

“Your mother never tells me anything,” he says with a laugh. “Who can blame her?”

But she knows him too well to buy the self-deprecating routine. It is so typical of her father. He has to be in charge of every situation. The moment he perceives he has lost that control, he lashes out. While he was never physical with any of the family during Lisa’s childhood, they all lived in fear of his emotional lability. When he threw one of his frequent tantrums, he would scream at the top of lungs, spewing words that could slice like a whip. Other times, he used silence as a weapon—refusing to speak to or even acknowledge Lisa for weeks on end after some perceived slight or other.

“It’s good to hear that my two girls—well, three, when you count the little one—are all together now.”

“Yeah, we get to see a lot of each other.”

“That’s wonderful. Must make up for you not ever getting to see your own parents.”

Exhaling slowly, Lisa forces herself to do a quick five-senses exercise. The cutting board The hum of the fridge The light pressure of her watchband The scent of coffee The salty taste of her own saliva. “Olivia’s shooting up like a weed these days,” she says.

“I saw her last week,” he says pointedly. “Such a funny little one. As spunky as you were at that age.”

“You think?”

“Definitely. Just hope she won’t turn out to be as defiant.”

Multiple responses come to mind, but Lisa decides not to engage him.

“Listen, I wanted to talk you about this vaccine,” he continues.

“What about it?”

“Amber tells me you’re planning to give Olivia a shot.”

“I am.”

“And you think it’s a good idea?”

“I do.”

“I heard about the girl who almost died from it.”

“So did I, Dad. In fact, I spoke to her myself.”

“And you want to take the same kind of chance with my granddaughter?”

“It’s not Russian roulette. It’s one reaction among thousands. This meningitis has already killed a lot of kids, including one of Olivia’s classmates.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“And why’s that, Dad?”

“Because we Dyers have good natural immune systems. I never let you or your sister anywhere near those toxic vaccines they tried to foist on you when you were babies. And neither of you ever came down with anything more than a head cold during your whole childhood.”

“And we should take that as proof enough that Olivia is safe from the most dangerous bacteria this city might have ever seen?”

“It is for me.” He huffs. “What do I know? I just raised you from nothing. But you’re the one who went to medical school.”

“That’s right, I did.”

“The most corrupted academic institution on the planet.”

Lisa focuses on her breathing. “Let’s not start—”

“Where the learning is bought and sold by corporate interests, who convince every last one of you that expensive chemicals and invasive surgeries are all somehow preferable to nature itself.”

“Speaking of chemicals, are you taking your medications, Dad?”

“That’s right. There it is again. The arrogance. The I-always-know-better attitude that makes you so damn special. So infallible.”

“I’ve got to go, Dad.”

“Don’t take my granddaughter down with you!”

Lisa hangs up the phone. She rubs her eyes. He will not get to me, she reassures herself, gathering her composure as she heads back into living room.

“How did it go?” Amber asks as she accepts her phone back.

“Nothing changes,” Lisa says.

Olivia tugs at her sleeve. “Are we doing this, Tee?”

“Yes, we are,” Lisa says, more determined than ever. “How about over there on the couch?”

Olivia hurries over to it and sits down. “Which arm do I get it in, Tee?”

Lisa taps her own shoulder. “The left one. That way you’ll still be able to draw right away.”

Olivia yanks her collar down over her shoulder to expose the skin.

“You’re too keen.” Lisa laughs. “I still have to get the stuff ready.”

Lisa reaches into her handbag and pulls out the supplies Fiona gave her, including the vial of Neissovax, a one-cc syringe with attached needle, and an alcohol swab.

Olivia’s eyes go wide as Lisa pulls the cap off the syringe to reveal the needle underneath. “So big?” she asks.

“It’s actually very small. Won’t be any worse than a mosquito bite.”

Olivia watches with mouth open as Lisa flicks the yellow cap off the vial, plunges the needle in, and sucks up the half cc of vaccine.

“You want to hold Mom’s hand?” Lisa asks.

“Can I?”

Amber kneels beside Olivia’s right side and takes her hand.

Lisa pulls Olivia’s collar back and rubs the alcohol swab over the skin on her shoulder. “I’m going to count to backward from five. You ready?”

“Ready.” Olivia squeezes her eyes shut.

Lisa raises the syringe. She looks over to Amber and, in that moment, sees persistent doubt in her sister’s eyes.

“Five… four… three… two…” Lisa jabs the needle through Olivia’s skin before reaching “one” and presses down on the plunger.

“Hey!” Olivia calls out in a mix of pain and amusement. “You tricked me.”

“Yes, I did.” Lisa withdraws the needle and recaps it. “So sue me.”

“Not fair.” Olivia laughs as she rubs her shoulder.

Lisa ruffles her hair. “You were super brave!”

“I was, wasn’t I?”

As Lisa is applying a small bandage to the inoculation site, her phone rings. She extracts it from her purse and, seeing the call comes from her office, answers.

“There’s been another one,” are the first tense words out of Tyra’s mouth.

“Another…” Lisa says, although she already knows. Her eyes dart instinctively over to her niece, who clutches her left shoulder with her other hand.

“Vaccine reaction. And it’s bad,