by Liz Hsu
Throbbing pain radiated from my foot to leg as the alarm clock wailed me awake. I flinched as I moved and knew I should cancel. I thought about what I would say to Greg, who still didn’t know I had lupus. We’d been coordinating this for weeks. It’d be fine. I’d just be sitting at the game most of the day anyway, right? It should be no different than staying at home, and it was Saturday—not like I could talk to my doctor about my foot. I’d stay at home and rest tomorrow, and if it was worse, I could go to the doctor on Monday. How bad could a little skin infection be?
Mind made up, I got up and limped around to dress. I felt dizzy and warm and figured Dad must have had the heat on too high. Before I knew it, Greg texted me they were here. I attempted to hurry down despite my throbbing leg.
I strained not to grimace as I walked to the car, which seemed excruciatingly far as my foot pulsed with pain.
They’d been late and traffic was bad, so we decided we’d eat at the game. The ride with Greg’s parents was interesting; his mom was an industrial interior designer and they all loved buildings as much as I did. Yet it was surprisingly hard to focus, and I felt slightly feverish and clammy. I was starting to feel loopy.
When it came time for the building tour, I was barely controlling my winces. Greg noticed and asked what was up.
“My foot really hurts,” I admitted.
He slowed down and was nice about it, but it was still torture. In fact, it was so agonizing that, by the time we made it to the Red Wings Arena, I was nauseous. I was afraid the pain might literally make me sick. They offered to buy me a hot dog since we’d skipped lunch, but I knew if I ate, I’d throw up.
When I started shivering in the stadium, Greg laughed. “Oh, Savannah, it isn’t even cold,” he said. “I hope you can survive the winter.”
I did too. We weren’t even into the first quarter when I was sweating and shivering, feeling more than a little woozy.
Mrs. Davis looked over at me and said, “Ray, are you okay? I think maybe you have a fever.”
“I don’t feel good.” A tremor racked my body and my teeth chattered. Sweat was dripping down my face.
“Greg, I think we should go,” his mom said kindly.
Greg glanced at me, and whatever he saw made him nod and stand up. When I got up, I felt myself sway.
“Whoa, you okay?” Greg said, grabbing my arm.
“Thanks, um—” I didn’t know what to say. I felt wobbly on my feet and cried out when my other foot hit the ground.
“You’re really hot,” he said, looking worried. “You definitely have a fever.”
His dad got up on my other side and together they helped me walk up the stadium stairs. I whimpered as each touch jolted excruciating pain through my left leg. They stopped moving.
“What is it?” Greg’s grip on my arm tightened, thankfully holding me up.
“My foot,” I bit out, feeling embarrassed as tears rolled down my cheeks. It hurt so bad. Oh sweet peas, it hurt.
“Let me see.” His dad kneeled down and whistled as he lifted off my boot and sock.
My foot was now a puffy, solid red that red ran up my leg and disappeared into my tight jeans.
“Greg,” his dad said softly, and Greg picked me up.
“What happened to your foot?” Greg said, carrying me up the stairs like I weighed nothing.
“I got a blister.”
“That’s a lot more than a blister,” he said solemnly. “That’s an infection. A bad one. God, how could you even walk?”
Despite the pain, a wry chuckle escaped me. “In case you didn’t notice, I can’t.”
He laughed and I tightened my grip on his shoulder.
Finally, we made it to the car. I lolled against the door as they drove us home, sweat dripping off my body. I’d been begun shaking in full-body trembles.
“Ray, you seem really sick,” Greg’s mom said from the passenger seat. “I think we should take you to the hospital.”
We were almost to Ann Arbor, so we decided to go to the University Hospital. Dad hadn’t answered his phone.
“Ray, it’s going to be all right,” his mom cooed.
“I don’t know,” I moaned. “I have lupus. It’s an autoimmune disease. It, um, well, it attacked my organs this summer. Please, Jesus, don’t let it be my organs again.” My teeth started chattering again.
“We’re almost to the hospital, Ray. Anything else we should know?”
“I take immune suppressants. I think the doctor mentioned I could get bad infections, but I just thought my foot would get better. I’ve never felt like this before.” I grabbed Greg’s forearm at a stoplight. “Please, don’t tell anyone at school. I didn’t want everyone here saying they’re praying for me, too.” It was a nice sentiment, but it made me feel like I was about to die.
“Hey, don’t worry. It’s okay.” But his expression held concern as he got out of the car.
Dad called right before we got to the ER and said he was on his way. Greg carried me in and luckily, the waiting room was nearly empty. The admission lady heard my symptoms and lupus and ushered us right back to a room.
“Greg, I’m fine now. You can go. Thanks for everything. Just remember, only Charles and Becky know,” I said, hoping he’d leave. I didn’t want an audience for this.
“We can stay until your dad arrives. Do you want me to call Charles?”
“No, please just go. This is embarrassing enough,” I said, wiping more sweat from my forehead. “I’ll call him later.”
A nurse shooed him out of the ER bay. “We need to get her in a gown.”
“You’ll be fine, Ray,” Greg said as he left.
I almost giggled, feeling hysterical. “He’s saying that more to himself than to me,” I whispered to the nurse.
“No, he’s right. Let’s get you changed,” the nurse said in a gentle voice. I was so unsteady on my feet, she had to hold my arm.
“Her blood pressure is really low,” someone said, but I could feel myself starting to fade.
Almost immediately, they cut open my blister. It was disgusting what came out, and they took samples of my foot infection while they took my temperature. One-hundred-five. My blood pressure was considered dangerously low, and after several attempts, they started an IV. In a rush, they started me on antibiotics and took me to a room on the floor. It must have happened in a hurry because I beat my dad there.
He burst in a few minutes later and hugged me tightly. “Sorry, Dad,” I said guiltily. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I’m sorr—”
“Shhhh, it’s okay. I know you would have told me if you thought you needed to go to the doctor. It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m here now.”
“Please don’t tell Dr. Wong and Charles,” I whispered into his chest.
“Why not?”
“He’s really stressed with school. His Caltech application is due soon. I don’t want him to worry about me.” I burst into tears and shook him slightly. “Please, Dad. Promise me.”
“Fine, I promise,” he said, but I could tell he was reluctant.
He moved to sit beside me to hold my hand. I sagged against the bed, too tired to hold my head up. The nurse came in and said I’d be staying overnight and that the rheumatology and infectious disease team would be by when they could. I tried to smile bravely at my dad, but the pain was agony, and I was scared.
It was Wednesday and I hadn’t spoken to Ray since Friday night. She’d sent me a few brief texts, first on Saturday saying the game had been fun, but she was tired and going to take it easy. She didn’t send any Sunday, and I was buried under my books and prepping for the piano competition on Saturday in Lansing, so I hadn’t tried to, either. This was how I needed to be totally focused, like last year. Yet it left me feeling empty and curious what she was doing.
When Monday morning arrived, I’d asked if she needed
a ride, but she didn’t respond to my multiple messages until after first period.
Something came up and I’ll be in Savannah a few days. Don’t worry if I don’t respond right away. Hope school’s going well.
This was what I had asked for—time to study—and now I regretted it. After not seeing her for a few days, I realized not how much vivacity she’d brought to my life and how lonely it was without her smile and infectious laugh. I thought about next year without her, Wàipó and my parents’ finances weighing on my mind. I wanted to talk to her about everything. I missed her. I knew if I held her, I could make it through the next few weeks.
Mrs. Bhatt had even given us an extra credit opportunity because so many students had failed the test. I’d been able to raise my 86 to a 96 with the extra points, so it certainly shouldn’t hurt me in the long run, or on my quarterly grades. But none of it meant much without Ray and as corny as it sounded, my world was a little dimmer without her around. Now I knew she wouldn’t make my piano competition anymore, and disappointment dragged me through the week even as I got ahead on my schoolwork.
The competition came and went. Ma cheered loudly and told me I did well, but she was pensive on the drive back. Even though I’d taken first place, I swore she kept looking at me like she was deeply disappointed in me. She started and stopped several sentences without finishing them—something was distracting her.
Crap, I hoped she wouldn’t ask me not to go to Caltech.
Finally, she asked, “Did you and Ray break up?”
I looked at her, too stupefied to respond. I hadn’t even realized she knew we were dating. “No, we’re still dating. She had something come up and went down to Savannah. That’s why she couldn’t come.”
“Did she?” She sounded bewildered and fell silent for a moment. “Have you talked to her?”
I felt myself flush with embarrassment. Where was she going? “We’ve been texting.”
“You should call her.” Her voice was as stern as was when we talked about school. “She’s a nice girl, and if she has something going on, maybe she’d like to talk to you instead of just texting.” She glanced at me a second before turning back to the road, a look of sharp disapproval in her eyes that filled me with shame.
I wasn’t sure why Ray hadn’t texted me more, or why we hadn’t talked on the phone. We’d video chatted when she’d gone down before. I’d been so absorbed in my work, I hadn’t considered it, but it was uncharacteristic of her. Suddenly I panicked, wondering if she’d moved back and simply not told me, or if she was sick again, then told myself I was being silly.
Ray wouldn’t lie to me.
But I wasn’t sure. She knew how important school was to me and unexpectedly, I wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t lie, not if she thought she was helping me.
I called her as soon as I got home, and she answered the phone with a weak voice. She asked about my competition, and I told her I’d gotten first place. After a few minutes, I heard some voices in the background.
“I’ll be here a little bit longer, but I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back,” Ray said softly.
“Ray, why did you go down there?”
“I need to go. It’s been really nice talking to you, and I’m glad you did well. I thought about you all day, Charles. You don’t know how much I wished I could have been there.” Her voice cracked, and I wondered if she was crying. “I’ll call you when I can.”
But she didn’t call me back Saturday or Sunday, and barely even responded to my messages. Now that I had the first-place piano score in, I submitted all my applications, but Ma kept casting me strange looks all weekend. It was a relief when Monday came and I could finally escape the house.
The day passed with its usual swiftness, but I longed for Ray at lunch. I missed her jokes and sweet smiles. I stared joylessly at my mystery meat. Even Knox was silent, both of us apparently missing Ray.
I was surprised when Greg grabbed my attention after eighth period by yelling, “Wait, Charles!”
We hadn’t spoken since the concert. He dropped his voice so no one in the emptying hallway would overhear. “I have some makeup work for Ray.”
I looked at him in surprise. Of course Ray should have work if she was out, but I wasn’t sure how I’d get it to her in Savannah. Well, I guess we had a scanner.
He continued so quietly I had to strain to hear. “How is she?”
The concern in his eyes alarmed me. “She’s fine.” As soon as I said it, I wasn’t sure she was.
His face softened with relief. “Good.” He stepped even closer and dropped his voice to the faintest whisper. “She texted me she was doing better after everything, but I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I was so worried about her. It was like something out of a movie—she started sweating and she looked so pale. Jesus, her leg looked terrible, and the way the ER took her right back…I didn’t know about the lupus, but I looked it up. It makes so much sense now. God, it all makes so much sense, like why she got so upset about her sunburn. Why she didn’t do cross-country. I wanted to visit her, but she said she was too sick. When is she getting released from the hospital? Do you know?”
His words were like a knife to the gut. I stumbled back a step, ears ringing. Ray’s in the hospital. He stopped and stared at me as I felt my insides twist.
Disbelief and then anger flickered on his face. “You didn’t know she was in the hospital, did you? She’s your fucking girlfriend.”
“I will find out why she didn’t tell me.” I grabbed the papers. “I’m going to see her.”
I raced down the hall and drove home as quickly as I could and burst into Ma’s office. With a nagging suspicion she knew already, I confronted her.
“Did you know Ray was in the hospital?” She nodded and I demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I felt tears roll down my cheeks, but I wasn’t embarrassed. All this time, she was here and sick. She’d lied to me. I imagined the fragile girl I’d seen this summer. It tore me up to think of her like that. But it was more painful I hadn’t been there for her—that she’d lied to me for whatever reason.
“She asked her dad not to tell us. She knew the competition was important for your Caltech application. Eventually, he had to communicate with me because he needed help covering his classes, but he made me swear not to tell you. Ray wanted you to focus on school.” Then she asked in an even tone, “Is Ray more important than school?”
I staggered back. “What? I’d have wanted to know. I can see her and still do fine in school.”
She hugged me. “I hoped you’d say that. Ray wasn’t sure what you would choose, or if you’d be angry if you picked her and your application suffered, so she said nothing. Charles, your dad and I want you to do well, but you push yourself as much as we do. That’s fine. You enjoy succeeding, but you aren’t a robot. People matter, too.”
I pulled back, my stomach pinching horribly with guilt. The disappointment on Ma’s face this weekend made sense now. She thought I’d ignored Ray in the hospital.
“I want to see her. I wanted to know. You shouldn’t have kept this from me.”
“She’s still at the hospital. Fifth floor, room 337B. Do you want me to go with you?”
I shook my head, still angry she and Ray had lied to me. I started to walk out the door, but then on second thought, I went and grabbed my guitar. Ray always said it relaxed her to hear me play music; she liked the piano best, but that wasn’t as portable.
My heart pounded as I marched down the hall toward Ray’s room, my feet loud on the linoleum floors. When I got to her door, I stopped. Ray had chosen to lie rather than let me know she was sick. It was shame I felt most strongly because I’d let her believe school was so important that I couldn’t let her bother me. She was so selfless, she’d rather lie alone in a hospital bed than let my grades suffer.
With some hesitation, I walked inside.
Ray’s mouth dropped open. “Charles,” she said wistfully.
“Ray.” I stepped forward.
Her dad’s gaze darted back and forth between us. When Ray nodded, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to the cafeteria for a tea.” With that and a harsh look at me, he left.
I took his seat and lightly put my guitar down. Ray was pale, her cheeks gaunt, and she had dark circles under her eyes. I could see several bruises on her pale inner elbow and wrist closest to me. Her other one was bright red. Cautiously, I reached a hand toward hers, letting it linger at the edge of the bed, just a centimeter from hers. She closed the distance and touched mine gently. That was all the encouragement I needed to hold her hand. My eyes watered. What had happened to her?
I looked up into her eyes, unsure what to say, or if I should say anything. She bit her lips, which looked painfully dry and had bloody cracks.
“I guess you know I lied to you,” she said.
“I know why you did it.” I squeezed her hand. “Next time, don’t. I was frustrated I was getting behind, but people I care about are more important than perfect grades. Ray, I care about you.” I felt my head droop, and tears gathered behind my eyes again. “I would have been here. I would have wanted to be here. You don’t know how much I care about you. How much guilt I feel not having been here for you.”
And I did. I deserved her dad’s and my mom’s irritation for not figuring out Ray was sick. She might have lied, but if I’d tried harder to talk to her, it would have been obvious.
She squeezed my hand back. “I wanted you to do well. I thought about your whole family and didn’t want to be a sinker around your neck. It was a scary few days.” She drew in a deep breath. “It’s bad enough I have to deal with this without dragging everyone else down with me.”
I met her gaze, brushing my tears away with my free hand. “Will you tell me what happened?”
She nodded weakly. “I got a blister at the banquet. And I was run-down and tired. I stayed on my feet too long and the immunosuppressants, and everything else…well, I got an infection. I thought it’d go away, but it got worse. We played that show and it was bad. But I thought, it’s just a blister. It was worse Saturday, and I got a high fever. I’d felt so sick I didn’t eat anything, and my blood pressure dropped. I was brought here Saturday from the game and started on antibiotics. They kept me because my blood pressure and platelets were so low and my fever was so high. Plus, the immunosuppressants.”
