“So? So?” Tegan demanded. “That’s all you can say to me?”
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“I thought I was your best friend,” she went on, bitterly. “I thought we agreed that our friendship always came before guys.”
“It does.” I nodded my head vigorously as confusion continued to swirl through my head. “What does that have to do with MySpace?”
“If friends come before boyfriends, then why is Jackson your number one and I’m number two?”
Her question, somewhat hysterical, took me aback. “What?” I began. “No, I . . .” I stopped, trying to think. I had been rearranging my top eight to include Oxide. I couldn’t remember changing anything around with Tegan or Jackson’s account, though; unless it happened when the browser froze. I’d tried moving around the mouse. I supposed it was possible I’d accidentally switched them.
“Yes, you did,” Tegan seethed. “And, you know, I know you like Jackson. I know you care about him. You might even love him. God knows you’ve told me enough times, but sometimes I just get so fucking sick of hearing about him.” I was stunned to hear her curse; it happened so rarely.
“I mean, it was bad enough you blew me off to hang out with him during spring break.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Bitterness seemed to exude from her. “I get having a boyfriend. You know that, but, lately, it feels like I can’t even get you to hang out with me unless Jackson’s busy with something else.”
“Tegan . . .” I didn’t know what to say. I’d had no idea she’d felt this way all the way back in March. No wonder she was so angry.
“I don’t want to hear it.” She slammed her locker shut. “At least now I know where I rate on the totem pole.”
Before I could form any sort of answer, she walked away. As she disappeared around the corner, I turned to face the lockers and banged my head lightly against the cool metal. What on earth just happened? I wondered. How could Tegan possibly think that she wasn’t important to me? She was my best friend above and beyond all else. How could she ever doubt that?
I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder, but then I recognized Jackson’s soft laughter. “A bit jumpy today, aren’t we?”
I turned around, close to tears, and the smile that had been playing on his lips quickly disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
“Tegan’s mad at me,” I sighed.
“Why?” He sounded mystified, like it was unfathomable that Tegan could be upset with me. Instead of making me feel better, it only made me feel worse.
I tried to explain what she’d said in the most tactful way. I didn’t want to Jackson to feel like he was the problem; he wasn’t. I also omitted the part about how I thought I might love him. Now wasn’t the time to delve into that discussion. Fixing things with Tegan was more important now than confessing my possible undying love for my boyfriend of four months.
“I’m sure she’ll get over it,” Jackson said, pulling me into a hug and patting me soothingly on the back, once I’d finished explaining. “It sounds like she was just overreacting.”
“But what if she’s not?” I sighed, tilting my head back so he could hear me. “I mean, she’s partially right. I haven’t been hanging out with her nearly as much since you and I have started dating. Granted, she has Mark, so that makes it somewhat harder to get together, but I don’t want her to feel like she’s my second choice.”
I peeked up at Jackson, hoping I hadn’t offended him in some way. After all, aside from my family, he and Tegan were the most important people in my life. Choosing between them just didn’t seem fair. I’d known Tegan most of my life, and she’d been there for me whenever I needed her. Best friend seemed like such an understatement. I’d called her my saving grace so many times before; that hadn’t changed, but I also had Jackson now too. He, too, was my friend as well as my boyfriend. I cared about him just as much as I did Tegan but in a very different way.
I’d always felt that friends were more important and should always come before guys, but now that I was actually in a relationship, I realized it wasn’t so simple and that priorities had a way of shifting without a person even realizing it. I couldn’t just discard Jackson or Tegan in favor of the other, though. I hated that things were changing between Tegan and I, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or how I could make this all better.
“Sil, I think she knows she’s important to you,” Jackson said. “Sometimes it just takes time to adjust to changes in relationships, you know?”
I nodded. He was right, of course, but that didn’t make me feel any less glum.
“Come on,” he heaved a sigh. “I’ll take you out for ice cream. We can even rent a movie if you want. Any movie, your choice.”
“Even a cheesy chick flick?” I asked, looking up at him, hopefully.
He grimaced, then sighed a long-suffering sigh, and nodded. “God, help me; yes, even a cheesy chick flick.”
Jackson was good company throughout the evening even though I was wallowing in my sorrow. He stopped by the movie theater to pick up his check, and after stopping by the bank, we went out for ice cream. The scoop of caramel latte and dark chocolate in a waffle bowl from Cold Stone Creamery helped to perk me up. Jackson also let me sample his Cold Stone’s “Chocolate Devotion.”
I should have been on a sugar high by the time we went to pick up a few movies, but I was shockingly mellow. I picked Little Miss Sunshine and Poseidon, and, because I was feeling generous, I let Jackson pick the last; he chose X-Men: The Last Stand.
Back at my house, my parents were both home and getting ready to go out for dinner at the country club.
“They’re having a live band play tonight,” Mom enthused. “Would the two of you like to come with us?”
“No, thanks,” I smiled, trying not to let my melancholy show through. “We’ve got big plans.” I waved the movies at her.
Mom nodded, as if she’d expected as much, and she and Dad left shortly after, but not before Dad locked eyes with Jackson, giving him the typical nonverbal warning to keep his hands to himself.
Despite my worries about Tegan, I had a surprisingly pleasant evening parked on the couch with Jackson. I snuggled up to him during Little Miss Sunshine, and when his stomach started to growl at me, he suggested we order in. We ate a lovely spread of fried rice, Sweetfire chicken breast, peppercorn shrimp and cream cheese Rangoon from Panda Express while we watched X-Men.
When Skylar arrived home from work, she ate the food we had leftover and hung out to watch Poseidon with us. In typical Skylar fashion, she kept asking questions about the movie, as if Jackson and I held all of the answers, so I was glad when she finally decided to leave us to take a shower.
When the movie was over, Jackson decided he should probably head home. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” he said, cupping my face.
I nodded as he leaned in to press his lips to mine.
“Don’t stress yourself out over Tegan. It’ll all work itself out.” He sounded so sure, and I wanted very badly to believe him, but, despite my earlier determination, I didn’t share his same conviction.
Once Jackson was gone, I went up to my room and fixed my top eight on MySpace before deciding to call it an early night, foregoing my usual nightly reading. As I drifted to sleep, I could hear Skylar blow-drying her hair in the bathroom down the hall.
I felt as if I’d only just fallen asleep when I found myself being shaken back to consciousness. Through bleary eyes, I squinted at the clock on my nightstand and determined, in actuality, a couple of hours had passed.
“Leave me alone,” I muttered to the evil person who was trying to wake me.
“Silly, come on.” Said evil person turned out to be Skylar. She didn’t sound annoyed, as she so often did when she was charged with the task of waking me. There was something different in her voice that stopped me from just rolling over to the other side of the bed and going back to sleep.
“Sil, I mean it.” She shook me again. “Mom called. We h
ave to go to the hospital. Now.”
At her words, I suddenly felt wide awake, and I was able to discern what was different about her voice; no, there was no annoyance, only panic.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I moved, as if on autopilot, shoving my covers aside and climbing out of bed. I was only vaguely aware that Skylar was still in the room as I pulled my pajama shirt over my head and pulled on the discarded t-shirt from earlier. Thankfully, she had enough presence of mind to turn around because modesty was the last thing on my mind. With shaky hands, I pulled on the first pair of jeans I could find in the dim light.
Even though I was moving as fast as I could, it still felt like it wasn’t quick enough. We needed to get to the hospital, and I couldn’t help but feel that I was delaying us.
“I’m ready,” I said to Skylar once my feet were socked.
She nodded, “Let’s go.”
We hurried down the hall and down the stairs wordlessly. We found Luke waiting for us in the foyer. I tugged on my shoes while Skylar grabbed our jackets from the front closet. She shoved my jacket into my hands once my shoes were in place, and I pulled it on as Skylar and Luke rushed me out the door.
We took Skylar’s car, and I slid into the backseat and barely had the door shut before Skylar was backing out of the drive. As Skylar sped along the dark, quiet streets, I pulled on my seatbelt. I glanced at the clock on the dash; it was half past midnight, and the sky was a dark, blank canvas. It seemed so ominous; I couldn’t find the moon or stars.
In the silence, I tried, for the first time since I’d been woken so suddenly, to process what was happening. I realized I didn’t know much. Regardless, I knew, instinctively, it was bad; I just didn’t know how bad. My first thought was something had happened to the baby, but as my mind—despite the fear and anxiety—became clearer, I realized that didn’t make sense. If it were the baby, then Dad would have called.
Breaking the quietude, I asked, “What exactly did Mom say?”
“Not much,” Skylar admitted. “She just said something happened, and we needed to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“Do you think it’s the baby?” Luke asked, speaking for the first time since I’d woke.
“Can’t be. Dad would have called,” Skylar replied, voicing my thoughts.
“It’s Dad then,” Luke sighed.
We were silent the rest of the drive. I tried to push away and cut off the worst-case scenarios, but it was hard with so many thoughts racing through my mind.
For as long as I could remember, I’d been afraid of hospitals. I wasn’t exactly sure where the fear came from. I’d spent enough time in the emergency room growing up; Mom joked, “If you don’t stop hurting yourself, they’re going to start to wonder if you’re being abused.”
Between the broken leg and arm, several other instances where I needed stitches, and a concussion once, Mom had a point, but I had a feeling the nurses could tell the difference between being clumsy and being abused.
The only non-accident related time I’d spent in the hospital was when—after having tonsillitis several times—I had my tonsils taken out when I was eight. Everyone kept going on and on about how it would be fine and how I’d be able to eat as much ice cream as I wanted; liars, the lot of them. I wasn’t able to eat anything besides orange Popsicles, which I absolutely hated, after my tonsillectomy. I’d always considered it one of the most horrific experiences of my life. My family, on the other hand, was greatly pleased that I couldn’t talk much.
My tonsil trauma seemed so trivial now. I had that strange feeling that always began in the pit of my stomach, coiling and curling, until it slithered slowly up into my chest; thinking on it now, I realized it wasn’t a feeling I got often. The last time I’d felt this way was when Mark was bullying me, but even then the sick feeling had been a more diluted version. I just knew that something was terribly wrong.
Once we arrived at the hospital, Skylar parked in the first place she could find. We jumped out of the car, and as we approached the main entrance, I wondered how we’d ever find Mom in such a huge hospital. Fortunately, Mom’s friend from the country club, Sherry, was waiting for us just inside the doors.
She looked a bit worried as she forwent a greeting and instructed, “Follow me.”
She led us down the hallways to the elevators. Time felt as if it were moving in slow motion as we rode up to the second floor. Once there, she led us down another set of hallways until, at last, we entered a waiting room.
Mom was there, sitting on a sofa, with her head in her hands. Sherry’s husband, Jim, was seated next her, patting her on the back and speaking quietly, most likely giving her words of reassurance.
“Mom?” Skylar said in a quavering voice.
Mom’s head shot up, and I was stricken to see her lovely face blotchy and stained with tear tracks. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot and her lips quivered as she stood. Without uttering a word, she rushed over to us, pulling Luke, Skylar and I into a hug.
I wrapped an arm around her and could feel her shaking. The panic I’d tried to keep at bay resurfaced in full force. While Mom was the more emotional of my parents, she was usually able to stay levelheaded in the face of a serious situation; for her to be so visibly shaken—especially in front of my siblings and I—only increased my fears.
“Mom,” I whispered, “what happened?”
Luke’s elbow jabbed me in the back hard enough that I was sure there would be a bruise as Mom clung to us even tighter. I’d been unaware of Mom’s physical strength; or, I realized, maybe we were all that was keeping her together. The way she held us tightly made me wonder if she was afraid of what might happen if she were to let us go. When she didn’t answer right away, I figured she mustn’t have heard my question, but then, after another minute, she finally released us from her tight embrace. She swiped away the tears on her face as she stepped back. She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Your father . . .” Her voice cracked, and she paused, taking another deep breath. “They were playing our song.” Her voice hitched. “I talked him into dancing.” The guilt was clear in her voice. “Then he just collapsed.” She covered her mouth, shaking her head as if to shake away the memory. “They’re saying it was a heart attack.”
Skylar gasped, and my heart rate seemed to accelerate. The room suddenly felt much smaller, as if the air had been sucked out of the space. For one terrible moment, I feared I might have a heart attack.
Luke seemed to be the only one still capable of speech. “Is he okay?”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t know,” she cried. “I’m still waiting to hear from the doctors.”
“Leela,” Sherry said, tentatively, as she approached, “why don’t you sit down?”
Mom nodded and let Sherry wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her back to the couch. I glanced between Luke and Skylar on either side of me. The worried, tired and confused emotions written all of their faces mirrored my own feelings.
After a moment, Skylar heaved a sigh and crossed the room to sit in the chair across from Mom. Luke and I shared a look before he shrugged and followed Skylar’s lead. I stood there, feeling awkward and uncertain; sitting around hardly seemed the thing to do, but what else was there? I moved to take the chair between Luke and Skylar, but before I got even two steps, a man in blue scrubs strode into the room.
He stepped around me, looking toward Mom and Sherry. “Mrs. Granger?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Mom stood, wiping her wet eyes yet again. Sherry and Jim remained seated while Luke and Skylar stood as well. I made my feet move to join them as the doctor began to speak.
“I’m Dr. Davenport,” he introduced, offering his hand. Mom shook it as he added, “I’ve been working on your husband.”
“How is he?” she asked quickly. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s stabilized for now, but we need to perform an emergency surgery to fix the blockages,” Dr. Davenport explained.
“Wha
t kind of surgery?” Mom asked.
“It’s bypass surgery to create a detour around the blocked arteries,” he explained. “Normally, we’d go with the less invasive bypass surgery, but in your husband’s case, it’s going to require open heart surgery.”
Mom gasped, and Sherry was there, instantly, wrapping her arms around her. Skylar reached over and took hold of Mom’s hand. I watched her squeeze it, as if to reassure her and remind her she wasn’t alone.
“How soon will you be performing the surgery?” Skylar asked; despite looking green, she sounded surprisingly calm.
“They’re prepping him right now,” Dr. Davenport answered. “A nurse will be coming out shortly with some papers for you to sign.”
“Will we be able to see him before you take him into surgery?” Mom managed to ask.
“I’m sure that will be fine,” he nodded. “But I have to warn you: he’s been in and out of consciousness.”
Mom nodded her understanding, but I wasn’t sure she was really processing any of this. She looked so much like a deer in headlights.
The doctor shook her hand again before he exited the waiting room just as quickly as he’d appeared. We all sat back down and waited. A few minutes later, as promised, a redheaded nurse came into the room with several papers for Mom to fill out. She explained a few things before saying, “Once you’ve filled those out, I can take you to see your husband.”
Mom took the offered pen, but her hands shook so badly it was impossible to write. Sherry took the papers and pen from her, offering to transcribe the answers for her, as the nurse exited the room after telling us she’d be back shortly.
They hurried through the paperwork, and, anxious for the nurse to return, Jim offered to go see if he could find her for us. When he returned, the nurse was right behind him.
After taking the paperwork, she led us down a maze of corridors to see Dad. She stopped outside one of the hospital rooms and turned to us. “I think it would be best if you went in two at a time,” she suggested.
Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Page 57
