Underneath the Sycamore Tree

by Celeste, B.

  My eyes tear up as I try calming my breathing. “I don’t like seeing other people miserable just because I am.”

  He shucks my chin lightly. “Don’t you get it, Mouse? That’s what family does. They worry. If someone loves you, they’re going to experience the same misery because they can’t do anything for you.”

  I swallow. “But Mama…”

  “She’s been doing better, right?”

  She calls me almost every day to tell me about group. I texted her earlier after missing her call because I was still at dinner, and she mentioned getting a job offer at the local hospital. It isn’t in the peds clinic like she used to work, but she seemed excited. It’s more money and benefits, and from what Grandma told me a while ago there’s even a man who she talks about who works as a physician on the same floor.

  “Mama is doing great,” I answer, feeling the tension ease slightly from my body.

  Getting a new job is huge for her, but if she starts dating then I’ll feel even better. I saw her invest all her free time in Logan, and shortly thereafter, me. There was nothing left to give anyone else. I suspected she had been seeing someone before Lo got worse. Her mood changed, and I don’t think it was just because of her sick daughter. She stopped doing her hair and makeup like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone anymore.

  Grandma says she wears lipstick again.

  It makes me smile.

  “I want to make people’s lives as less complicated as possible. I already accept that mine can’t be so easy, which is why it has to be different for everyone else.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he scoffs. “Em, your pain is always going to be ours. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

  Confused, I give him a doubtful stare. “I don’t see how it can be a good thing.”

  “It makes it real.”

  “What?”

  He pauses. “Love. Life.”

  I blink.

  “I told you before I loved you.”

  I remember.

  “You don’t have to go shopping tomorrow,” he says, going to the laptop and clicking out of the movie.

  “I told Cam I would.”

  “She’ll understand.”

  Sighing, I watch him surf the selections before choosing a Disney movie. “What are you doing? I thought you hated Disney.”

  “I do,” he grumbles. “But that doesn’t mean you do. Plus, these are better to watch when you’re not feeling well.”

  I told him a long time ago that I used to put on Pocahontas when I was sick. Seeing it on the screen makes my eyes water worse than before as Kaiden opens his arms for me to curl up in his side.

  Using his chest as a pillow, I refuse to acknowledge the pain from the hip I’m resting on. It shoots up my body and causes a tear to slip down my cheek, but all I can do is hold Kaiden tighter as the movie plays.

  Right before I fall asleep, I whisper, “I love you, Kaiden.”

  He brushes my hair back and kisses the crown of my head. “You’re feeling warm, Mouse. Try getting some sleep.”

  I wake up feeling my stomach churn so violently that I vomit all over the blankets. The abrupt illness and sour taste of dinner, mouth wash, and stomach acid has me too distracted to be embarrassed. Kaiden swears and nearly falls when his foot gets caught as he tries getting out of bed.

  Groaning and clutching my stomach with one hand and my back with the other, I feel a second wave of nausea coming on strong. Tears stream down my face as I lurch over the bed, this time into the waste bucket Kaiden puts in front of me just in time.

  “Jesus, Em,” he murmurs, staring wide-eyed at me. He cradles my head, but his touch doesn’t ease me.

  I empty my stomach and cry. If Kaiden wasn’t holding the bucket, I would have dropped it. My arms feel like lead at my sides.

  “S-Something’s w-wro…” I whimper when I’m finally able to breathe. All I want is water to rinse my mouth, but my body is completely drained of everything.

  “Shit. Okay.” He looks around. “Do you think you’re going to get sick again?”

  I shake my head, letting the tears hit my thighs. The room smells horrible and I need to change before I do puke from the fumes alone.

  He quickly gets rid of the bucket in the bathroom, the toilet flushing and the shower turning on soon after. My eyes slowly drift to the clock.

  Two twenty-seven.

  I groan again and feel the need to close my eyes, my body swaying to the side that I know is covered in something I don’t want to lay down in.

  “Whoa,” he says, catching me. “I need to get you cleaned up. Can you walk to the bathroom?”

  I’m barely able to nod but stand with his help and shakily walk to the bathroom with him. My right leg drags behind, leaving Kaiden taking a brunt of my weight. He supports me as he peels off my pajama pants and tries getting my shirt over my head. I attempt to help him, but my arms aren’t moving easily on their own.

  “My right arm,” I cry, realizing that my entire right side is numb and unmoving.

  He keeps cursing as he practically picks me up and carries me to the tub. He steps in fully dressed, instantly getting soaked. The water isn’t too cold or too hot as he grabs the loofa and starts rinsing me off. My back sinks into his front, one of his arms wrapped tight around my waist as he lets the water run through my hair.

  He’s talking to himself, but I can’t make out his muttering. I should be embarrassed that I’m completely naked and smell, but I can’t muster the energy to care.

  That’s when I know.

  “Wrong,” I repeat. “S-somethi…”

  “I know, Mouse,” he rasps, reaching over to the faucet and turning it off. We’re both dripping wet as he carefully grabs a towel and starts drying me. I’m not sure how he manages it since I’m no longer standing on my own.

  He ignores drying himself off as he carries me out of the tub and sets me down on the closed toilet lid. Once he sees I’m not going to tip over, he quickly peels off his drenched shirt and pajamas pants until he’s just in his boxer briefs.

  “Hold on,” he says, rushing out of my bedroom. I hear him rustling the blankets and sheets, probably peeling them off the bed.

  Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the wall, slumping down. The bathroom is cold and the towel he wrapped around me does little to warm me up.

  Kaiden starts shouting for Dad and Cam. I flinch over the desperation in his tone but do nothing about it but sit there.

  Helpless.

  Did Lo ever feel this way?

  So defeated? So…

  Warm hands are on my arms, then soft material slides over my head, shoulders, and torso. He’s careful to slide my arms through the holes, then kneels and slides sweatpants over my feet one at a time.

  “Not…used…to…this…” My tongue is heavy in my mouth.

  Having you dress me, I want to elaborate.

  I can’t though.

  Once I’m dressed, I hear Dad’s booming voice from my bedroom. Cam gasps loudly, probably seeing the state of disaster that my room is in. Kaiden tells them we’re in the bathroom, and suddenly everything gets chaotic.

  “What happened?” Dad demands, replacing Kaiden’s position in front of me. He puts his hands on my face and forehead, looking frantic. “She’s burning up. Emery? Baby…”

  “I tried rinsing off the puke,” Kaiden tells him, his fingers dragging through his wet hair. His voice is hoarse as he stares, Cam next to him with her hand on his shoulder.

  “She needs to go to the hospital,” Dad says, carefully putting one arm behind my back and the other underneath my knees. He huffs when he picks me up, holding me to his chest and walks us through my bedroom.

  Cam and Kaiden are close behind as he walks downstairs. Kaiden has the car keys to Cam’s vehicle in one hand and my jacket in the other. When we get outside, the night air brushes against me and feels oddly welcoming to my overheated body.

  “D-Dad,” I croak, not knowing what to say.

  “W
e’re going to get you help,” he promises, opening the back door.

  Kaiden offers to sit in the back with me, but Dad practically barks at him to drive. I only then realize that Kaiden is in gray sweatpants and a black hoodie with no shoes or socks on.

  He and Cam take the front, while Dad holds me in the backseat. It’s probably a funny image, a man his size squeezed back here. He brushes his hand across my cheek as he stares at me intently, his eyes glassy until…they’re emerald.

  “Da—” I try again, but the word slurs.

  “Shh. Try resting.”

  My lids grow heavy. “Tire…”

  “Rest,” is the last thing I hear.

  Chapter Forty

  My ears throb with the noise of high-pitched beeping coming from somewhere close by. It echoes in my skull, causing me to wince and whimper until something tightens around my arm.

  Where…?

  “Henry!” a different high-pitched voice calls out. It’s a mixture of desperation and relief and…fear?

  My eyes crack open to darkness. The large rectangular light above me is off, which I’m grateful for based on the pulsing pain in my temples. A sharpness in the back of my eyes has them watering as I try moving.

  “Sit still,” Cam insists. She doesn’t have to push me down because my body never lifted. There’s no willpower, no energy, to even fight off the unfamiliarity of my surroundings.

  The words are there, circling my mind. I can taste them on my lips, but nothing comes out. I try opening my mouth…and nothing. Instead, I focus on Cam, on the room, on anything that could tell me where I am and what’s happening.

  Her light hair and kind eyes greet me with the slightest comfort, though not enough to feel like I’ve made it out of the woods. I may not know what’s happening, but after a long moment I’m familiar with the feel of a firm mattress and scratchy sheets. The thin white one covering me is no better. The material is rough not soft and hurts the skin that isn’t covered by the hideous paper-thin blue gown.

  Glancing down at myself, I see wires upon wires hooked to me everywhere. There are two different needles in my arms, a monitor attached to my finger, and black cuffs on one of my arms and legs. Something is coursing through my veins, a potent drug that eases a majority of the pain I’m almost certain I should be feeling. It leaves me warm and tingly, eased but not eased enough so I’m unaware.

  My heart goes haywire with anxiety trying to piece everything together. How long have I been asleep? How long have I been here?

  Dad rushes in and pales when he sees me, his expensive cellphone almost falling from his hands. That’s when I know something is happening, because he lives on that. “Baby.” His voice is thick with worry as he replaces Cam by my bedside. “The doctors are going to come in here and explain everything to you that they told me, okay?”

  “D-Da…?” His face is more wrinkled, more aged, than I’ve ever seen. I did that to him. My slurred words and unknown state broke him.

  I look around the room slowly, blinking past the tears that I know is because of more than just the headache blossoming. “W-Where…is…K-Kaid?”

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I try internalizing why my tongue feels so heavy. It’s weighing in my mouth, drowning every syllable that tries escaping my thin lips.

  Cam peeks her head around Dad’s shoulder and gives me a small smile. “He’s waiting in the lounge outside. The ICU doesn’t allow more than two people in here.”

  My eyes widen. “I’m in the…ICU?”

  I’ve never been here before. All the times I’ve been admitted, it’s always been in the Inpatient Center where I had to share a room with angry old people who complained about the food or the television not having anything good on to pick from.

  Dad kneels beside me, his throat bobbing and eyes a shade of green I’m not accustomed to seeing. “Emery, you’re very, very sick. At some point during the night you had a stroke. It’s honestly a miracle you didn’t choke on your vomit when you got sick, because the function on your right side is minimal. And that’s…” He chokes on his words. “That’s not all, baby girl.”

  My eyes go to the hand he’s holding.

  My left hand.

  I stare at my right arm for too long, which has a needle in the vein on the side of my wrist that I can’t feel. “S-Stroke?”

  He nods.

  I’ve heard about strokes. Old people had them whenever a call came over the police scanner at Mama’s house. John Doe age sixty-three. Stroke. Jane Doe age seventy-one. Stroke.

  Not eighteen-year-olds. Not me.

  Cam’s eyes water, and hers don’t turn any other color. Not in the darkness. Not from the tears. They’re the same as always. “Your mother has been called, sweetie. She and your grandmother are already on their way.”

  I swipe my dry lips with my tongue. It feels lighter, but the weight in my chest hasn’t eased as much. “K-Kaiden? He must…be worried. Plea—”

  A doctor walks in, opening and closing the squealing door behind him. I know Kaiden. He must be pacing the waiting room, his hair a mess, and cursing out anyone who asks if he needs anything. Is he still barefoot? Did someone get him shoes? Hospital booties? A cup of coffee?

  “Ms. Matterson,” the doctor greets. He squeezes Dad’s shoulders like he must have done hundreds of times since our arrival.

  “Emery,” I whisper, taking a deep breath of relief when the word forms correctly.

  His hair is still dark. Not graying like most doctors I’ve crossed paths with. His face is wrinkle free and kind, like he hasn’t witnessed true tragedy yet. Does that give me hope? Or will I be the one to break him?

  “Emery,” he corrects, washing his hands and drying them off at the sink in corner. “I’m Dr. Thorne. I was assigned to you when you arrived at this wing. After reading over your medical file and seeing the image tests, EKG, and lab work they did on you tonight, I contacted your rheumatologist for some additional information. I’ll need some further answers from you on how you’ve been feeling, to get a better picture.

  “Can you tell me about some of the symptoms you’ve been experiencing? Is there anything out of the ordinary you’ve noticed over the past few months? Every detail will help.”

  Dad’s breathing is unsteady, and I wonder if he’s going to cry. I’ve never seen him do that before and I’m not sure I ever want to. Tearing up and letting them spill are two different things. It’s like an acceptance that things have changed. When you tear up, you’re simply unsure. When you cry, you know.

  I don’t want to know.

  I don’t want Dad to know.

  For some reason, I struggle looking at the young doctor. Instead, my eyes go from Dad to Cam to the door. I think about Kaiden and pretend he’s right here. He should be, he’s family.

  My ears pick up on the drum of my heart, which pounds in a rocky beat. It doesn’t sound normal at all. It’s been like that for too long, and excuse after excuse I reasoned with its abnormality as if it made a difference. It overpowers the noise coming from the various machines hooked to me. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump. Thump.

  “Emery?” Dr. Thorne repeats.

  “H-head…aches.”

  He nods, glancing at the computer screen I didn’t know was on. “It looks like you came to the emergency room over the winter because of a migraine that turned into a fainting spell?”

  I don’t answer.

  Dad says, “Yes. She got sick at school and fainted, but insisted it was from the migraine.”

  Pressing my lips together, I finally meet the doctor’s eyes. “I saw a…neuro..logist right after who helped me get medication.”

  “Does it?”

  “Yes.” No. I don’t know anymore.

  “You no longer get headaches?”

  No answer. My lips tingle.

  His eyes scan the screen once more before he proceeds with his questions. “Have you noticed any changes in weight?”

  I know for a fact any fluctuation is r
ight in front of him, documented from my many visits and check-ins. “Gain. I’m not sure how much.”

  “Bruising? Bleeding? Dizziness?”

  Exhaustion sweeps through me. “Dr. Thorne, I’m t-tired. I-I’m sorry, but I want to know what’s going…I’ve never felt…I never had…”

  I’m used to being here.

  I’m used to the interrogations.

  The assumptions.

  The medical jargon.

  But not in the Intensive Care Unit.

  “Please,” I whisper brokenly.

  Dad squeezes my hand, and I ignore the bite of pain that greets his strong grasp.

  The doctor moves the computer away from him, giving me a firm-lipped expression. I know it too well, the distance he puts between us while he figures out how to deliver the news.

  “We’re running additional tests,” he begins, not looking at anyone but me. I appreciate the effort he puts in that no other doctor does. I’d get worked up when doctors talked to Mama like I couldn’t possibly understand what they’re saying, much less be affected by the diagnosis as though I’m not the patient. “The scans that were done on you tonight showed many alarming things. Your brain tissue shows signs of extensive inflammation, as does the area around your heart. And your kidneys…”

  I hold my breath.

  My heart drums.

  The clock on the wall ticks.

  His voice is so soft it’s like velvet against my skin. “Emery, your kidneys barely showed up on the images done.”

  Blinking, I shake my head.

  His eyes are softer than his voice, but his body is straight and tense and professional. “The levels of your creatine and BUN tests also drew red flags. As soon as the radiologist read your images, the lab was contacted to do an additional glomerular filtration rate, or GFR, test that gives us an idea of your kidney function.”

  My bottom lip trembles, but I refuse to cry. I know what he’s saying before he even says it. After I heard Mama talk to Grandma about Lo, I figured out how to do an online search to read about what she died from.