by Marie Force
Hurry back, but drive safely. I’ll be counting the days.
Love,
Maria
He responds a few minutes later. About to go through security, but you ARE one of the most precious things in my life. Don’t ever doubt that. Will write more later. Enjoy your breakfast. Love you.
Swoon! He makes my heart race with his words the way he has from the first messages he sent me. I get out of bed, take a quick shower and get dressed before breakfast arrives. I’m running a brush through my wet hair when the doorbell rings.
The room service waiter rolls in a cart that has a vase with a red rose in it and a note with my name on the front.
“Do I need to sign?” I ask the waiter.
“No, ma’am. It’s all set.”
“Thank you so much.”
“You have a nice day.”
“You, too.”
I go right to the table and open the note. Maria, I heard everything you said yesterday, but you’re going to have to let me spoil you a little bit. Sorry not sorry. We love you. Austin & Everly.
My smile stretches across my face as I pour coffee and dive into the bacon-and-cheese omelet he ordered for me along with the fried potatoes I raved over yesterday and a bowl of fruit. Two mornings ago, I told him the fruit made me feel less guilty about eating the rest. He pays attention. That’s another thing to love about him.
I drive home an hour later, still on cloud nine from the breakfast and the note and the last week with him and Everly. I unpack my bag, do a couple of loads of laundry and make a grocery list for after-brunch shopping tomorrow.
My phone chimes with a text from Austin. Landed BWI. Will be back ASAP!
I write back. Glad you’re safe, and can’t wait to have you back. xoxo
I spend the afternoon reading, watching TV and trying to relax before my shift at the restaurant. I text Carmen. Are you guys coming in tonight? They come in most Saturday nights, and we’ve fallen into the habit of hanging out after I get out of work.
We are! See you in a bit.
Good!
Wearing the starched white dress shirt and black skirt that make up the waitstaff uniform, I head to work around four thirty, all the while wondering what Austin and Everly are up to in Baltimore.
Chapter 21
AUSTIN
My dad picks us up in my black BMW SUV, and as I buckle Everly into her car seat, I notice her cheeks are rosier than usual, which has me brushing a hand over her forehead. She’s warm and that’s all it takes for me to go rigid with complete panic. There’s simply no other way to describe it. She was listless and out of sorts on the plane until the descent when she cried uncontrollably for twenty minutes. I chalked up the listlessness and crying to being overly tired from a busy week, but now I can’t deny that she looks and feels feverish.
I close her door and get into the passenger seat. “Take us to Hopkins.”
Dad looks over at me, shock etched into his expression. “What? Why?”
“She’s feverish.”
“Come on. She is not.”
“She is, Dad. Drive. Please?”
After taking another tentative look at me and at Everly in the rearview mirror, he shifts the car into gear and takes off.
I send a text to Ev’s oncologist. Just arrived back in Baltimore after a week in Miami, and Ev’s running a fever. Bringing her to Hopkins ER right now.
The doctor, a godsend named Jai Anand, responds immediately. I’ll meet you there.
He’s amazing, and I credit him with helping to save Everly’s life. But the fact that he feels the need to meet us at the ER on a Saturday does nothing to calm my out-of-control anxiety. My blood pressure has to be in the danger zone, and I can barely breathe from the fear that has my throat feeling tight and closed off.
I should text Maria and tell her what’s going on, but she’s got to work tonight, and I don’t want to worry her until I know more.
“You should call Mom,” Dad says, his tone grim.
I don’t want to have to say the words out loud, even to my own mother. But Dad is right. The three of us have been on this journey together from the beginning, and she has a right to know what’s going on. I put through the call.
“Hey! Did you guys land?”
“We did. We’re with Dad now, and, um, well, Ev’s a bit feverish, so we’re going to run by Hopkins real quick just to, you know, make sure.”
Her gasp comes through loud and clear. “Austin. No.”
I can’t breathe or talk or do anything other than panic.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.”
“She’s fine. She’s completely fine.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, Mom.” To my dad, I say, “She’s meeting us.”
He reaches over to squeeze my arm. “Try to stay calm, son. A fever can be a sign of lots of things.”
I nod and try to heed his advice, but I won’t be able to breathe normally again until I know what’s going on. And if the cancer is back…
No. It can’t be. It just can’t be.
Dr. Anand must’ve called ahead, because we’re taken right back when we check in at the Hopkins ER. A nurse comes in a few minutes later and takes her temp. It’s 102.
I’m about to lose my shit. Where in the fuck did that come from? The smell of this place takes me right back to the most terrifying time in my life. It’s my least favorite place in the entire world, despite what they did here to save my daughter’s life.
Another nurse comes to take blood from Everly. She remembers this process and recoils from the nurse. I hate myself as I hold her still while she screams and cries from the needle stick and then after when she sobs softly into my neck.
Thankfully, Ev dozes off, and I hold her while she sleeps, trying not to notice the heat coming from her tiny body.
Mom comes rushing in a short time later, hugs and kisses me and Everly, and looks at me with the same wild-eyed expression she wore that first night when I walked into a nightmare after flying cross-country to get to them.
My dad puts an arm around her, and they stay nearby during the interminable wait for information. I don’t say a word in the two hours that pass, but every minute feels like a fucking year to me. I go over the last few days in my mind, looking for signs of impending doom that simply weren’t there. She was fine. I kept her on a good schedule, she got plenty of sleep and good food and sunshine.
I have no idea what I’m going to do if it’s back.
By the time Dr. Anand comes in, I fear I’m about to have a stroke from the pressure building inside my head.
“She’s fine,” the doc says.
At first, I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Did he really say, She’s fine, or do I want to hear that so badly, I’m hearing things?
“All her counts are within normal range, and she’s still in remission. Let me give her a quick exam to make sure, but whatever this is, it’s not leukemia.”
There’s nothing else he could say that would mean more to me than that. I force myself to breathe, to swallow around the massive lump in my throat, to lay my sleeping child on the exam table so he can check her.
She awakens with a cry, until she sees Dr. Anand, whom she loves.
In a matter of minutes, he has her smiling and chatting. He’s very thorough, as always, and after looking in her ears, he says, “Her ear canals are red and swollen.”
“She’s been swimming a lot this week.”
“Swimmer’s ear might be our culprit.”
“Seriously? That can cause a fever?”
“Sometimes.”
I can’t believe it could actually be something so simple, probably because I’m now predisposed to expect the worst.
He prescribes an antibiotic and drops for her ears and signs discharge paperwork a short time later. “Give her some Tylenol when you get home, and keep it up for the next twenty-four hours. If she’s not much better tomorrow, le
t me know. And let’s use earplugs for swimming.”
I shake his hand, this man who saved my child’s life and who came running when we needed him today. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” He playfully taps on Everly’s chin, making her giggle. “Anything for my girl Everly.”
“You’re the best.”
“Go have a stiff drink, Dad. Everything’s fine.”
“You may have to tell me that a few more times.”
“Let me know how she is in the morning.”
“I will. Thanks again, Doc.”
“You got it.”
Mom and Dad walk out with us. I’ve got Everly in my arms, her head on my shoulder. I’m so filled with gratitude that I want to cry. I’ve cried more since Ev got sick than I had in my entire life before.
“I’ll pick up the prescription,” Dad says. “You guys get our baby girl home to rest.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mom sits in the back seat with Everly while I drive us home.
I’m a fucking wreck. My hands are shaking, my stomach hurts, and every part of me feels like it’s been sent through a shredder. I park in the garage under our building and carry our bags while Mom carries Everly. The first thing we do when we get in our place is give her the Tylenol, which she takes without protest.
She puts her hands on my face, forcing me to look at her. “Rie?”
“She’s still in Florida, Pooh, but we’ll see her very soon.”
“Dora!”
I settle her on the sofa with her favorite blanket and find Dora the Explorer on the TV. She snuggles in to watch, and I inhale the first deep breath I’ve taken in hours.
Mom comes over to hug me. She doesn’t say anything, but then, she doesn’t have to. She gets it because she lived through every second of hell with me. “I’ll make something for dinner.”
“What would I do without you guys?”
“No need to worry about something that isn’t going to happen.”
“Thank you.”
“We love you both. You don’t have to thank us.” She starts toward the door. “By the way, I took the liberty of packing Ev’s things for Florida, so you only have to worry about yourself. I figured that might get you back to where you want to be that much quicker.”
“You’re the best, Mama.”
“How’s Maria?”
“She’s amazing, fantastic, beautiful, delightful.” Just thinking about her makes me feel better after the last few horrific hours.
“You light up when you talk about her.”
“Because I love her.”
“Oh, Austin… That’s wonderful. She’s a lovely person.”
“You have no idea how lovely she is.” Thinking about Maria loosens the tension inside me and fills me with a feeling I never had before I had her. It’s a level of joy that can’t be described in words. I tell Mom about taking Maria to see houses yesterday and her reaction to them. “We worked it out, but it was kind of refreshing to realize she was put off by the money rather than turned on.”
“Which is what you’re used to.”
“Yeah. Not to mention, Ev just adores her—and vice versa.”
“I couldn’t be happier for you all.”
“I’m heading back there the second Everly is feeling better.”
“We’ll be right behind you. Dad has a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday, so we’re planning to leave Wednesday.”
“How do you feel about babysitting next Saturday? Carmen is getting married.”
“We’ve got you covered. I’ll text you when dinner is ready.”
“Sounds good. Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
I check on Everly, see that she’s dozed off again and sit next to her on the sofa, wanting to be close by if she needs me. I put my head back and try to force myself to relax, to let go of the panic and gritty fear. She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay. Maybe if I think it enough times, it’ll actually register.
I send a text to Maria. I know you’re working, but give me a call if you take a break.
The phone rings two minutes later, and I get up to take the call in the kitchen so I won’t disturb Ev.
“Hey,” she says. “We’re not busy yet. What’s up?”
“Everly spiked a fever on the flight home.”
“What? Is she okay? Did you get her checked?”
“I did. She’s fine. But I’m a wreck.” I try so hard to keep my emotions in check, but hearing Maria’s voice and her concern is my undoing.
“Oh God, Austin… I wish I could hug you.”
“Freaked me out.” I wipe tears from my face, wishing I could control out-of-control emotions, but I know by now there’s no fighting the tsunami when it hits.
“Of course it did. I’m so sorry. Did they say what they think it is?”
“She’s got red, swollen ear canals, probably from all the swimming. He gave her an antibiotic and drops in addition to the Tylenol for the fever.”
“And they ran her blood?”
“Yeah. All good.”
She breathes out a deep breath. “Thank God. You must’ve been beside yourself.”
“You have no idea.”
“I have a small idea. I’m beside myself for you after the fact.”
“Sorry to bother you when you’re working.”
“Please, don’t worry about it. Of course I wanted to know about this.”
“Call me when you get home?”
“I will. Are you okay?”
“I will be. Eventually. I’m all triggered and shit.”
“Maybe you should check in with the therapist?”
“Yeah, probably. That’s a good idea.”
“Do whatever it takes to feel better, Austin. There’s no shame in any of it.”
“Talking to you helps.” I take a deep breath and release it slowly, trying to sort the wild thoughts running through my mind. “When we were first talking to each other, I felt stupid for telling you about the PTSD and the therapy and all that, but now I’m glad you know.”
“You should never feel stupid about how you feel. And knowing you were so deeply affected by Everly’s illness only makes me love you more, not less.”
“I miss you so much. How can it only be eight hours since I last saw you?”
“Feels like a week.”
“I, um… I’m having second thoughts about moving Ev away from her oncologist.”
“Which is also perfectly normal, but if anything happens, we can get her top-quality care here in consultation with her doctor there. I’m a nurse and you can bet I’ll be keeping a very close eye on our girl.”
“Our girl… I’ve never wanted to share her with anyone until you.”
“I love her so much, it’s ridiculous. I worry I’m going to spoil her rotten.”
“It’s okay if you do. I want her to have everything, including you and your love.”
“She’s got both. I’m all hers, and I love her madly.”
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“My mom packed up Ev’s stuff for Miami, so I only have to pack for myself and get her feeling better. We might be back sooner than I thought.”
“I can’t wait, and just keep telling yourself she’s fine, everything is fine, and we’re going to have so much fun this winter.”
“I’ll do that. Call me later?”
“As soon as I get home.”
“Have a good night at work.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too, babe.” I end the call and think about what Maria said regarding my therapist. I’ve cut back from weekly appointments to an as-needed basis as we got further out from the bone marrow transplant, but Maria is right. I need to check in with Lois after what happened today. My reaction to what turned out to be a simple fever proves I’m not as “recovered” from the trauma as I’d like to believe.
I send her a text asking if she can fit me in at some point in the next few days.
; She writes back twenty minutes later. I’m booked solid this week, but I have thirty minutes right now if you want to give me a call.
I check to make sure Everly is still asleep on the sofa and go into my bedroom to make the call.
“Hi there,” Lois says when she picks up. She’s in her mid-fifties and recently became a first-time grandmother. I credit her with putting me back together after Everly was ill and helping me learn to function with crippling anxiety. “I was thinking of you the other day. Congrats on the perfect game. That was thrilling to watch.”
“Thank you.”
“How’s Everly?”
“She’s been doing great until a fever today sent me spiraling.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. All her blood work came back normal, and she’s still in remission. They think the fever came from an ear infection.”
“Thank goodness that’s all it is. You must’ve had a frightening few hours.”
“It was awful, and thus my text for an appointment.”
“I’m sure it took you right back to the trauma of her illness.”
“It did. I keep telling myself she’s fine, but…”
“The anxiety is telling you otherwise.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s perfectly normal to overreact to a fever after what you’ve been through, Austin. Tell me you know that.”
“I do. It just… It took me back.”
“Of course it did.”
“Things have been so much better lately. Ev is thriving, and I… I met someone.”
“Did you? That’s great.”
