“Thanks, but I don’t want to waste her time. You and I both know where this is headed. Let me try and figure out where Vi’s head is first. Thanks again, man.” He slugged back his second double.
“Go home. Sleep this off. Start over in the morning.” Bryce pinched his forehead, hanging his head. I felt for the guy. This one hit close to home, and I needed to get the hell out of here as well. “You’ll figure it out. Take this weekend to spend time with your family. I got tomorrow covered.” I squeezed his shoulder and slapped some bills on the bar. “Shoot me a text if you want me to contact my friend.”
I walked through my apartment door with one thing on my mind. My kids. Tonight reminded me how fortunate I was. We might have been through hell as a family, but I’d take every second, relive all of it, over what Bryce was facing. I sat on the edge of Maxie’s bed and swiped her blond curls away from her face. I dipped down and kissed her sweet cheek. “Daddy loves you, peanut. You’re my world, don’t ever forget that.”
Next I found myself clearing a small library of Power Ranger board books from the edge of Finn’s bed. My boy looked peaceful, breathing easy, smelling like nature’s cure all. I smiled and dipped down to kiss his head. “Don’t you ever give up. I’ll fight by your side until I’ve got no fight left. I love you, bud. Sweet dreams.” I tucked the covers up around his shoulders and picked up his favorite stuffed animal from the floor.
Turning around, I saw Maya leaning against the jamb. “I didn’t hear you come in—I wasn’t expecting you home this early,” she whispered. I joined her in the hall, closing Finn’s door halfway.
“Long day. Was ready for it to be over.”
“They haven’t been asleep long. They were both wound up tonight.” As much as I would have loved to spend a little time with them, I was grateful they were asleep after the day I had. “There’s some leftover soup in the fridge.” Maya pointed and my stomach followed.
“Awesome. I’m starved.”
Maya turned toward the guestroom and asked, “Where’s Jules?”
“She had family stuff,” I answered. It was most likely the truth, and to be honest, I didn’t want to deal. It was a valid question since Jules had spent every Friday night with us since our first weekend together. She deemed it pizza night, and it had quickly become the girls’ favorite night of the week. Finn’s and mine too.
“Oh, I thought maybe she was working tonight.”
“Nope.”
“She knows your mom is coming to town, right?”
Enough. As much as I trusted that she was coming from a good place, I had enough of Maya’s what’s up with you and Jules inquisition. And the last thing I needed was her running back to my in-laws with updates on my social life. Bad enough the family connection prevented my life from being private. Jules was off limits.
“It’s all good, Maya. Jules will be here Sunday.” Shit. Speaking of Sunday brought focus to tomorrow. “Sorry. I hate to lay this on you last minute, know you need to study, but are you good all day tomorrow? I offered to stay and round tomorrow for a friend. If not, let me know, I’ll suck it up and call Darla to help out.”
“No need. I’m fine. Looking forward to spending the day with them.” Pheww. The less I had to ask my mother-in-law for anything, the better.
“Thanks,” I said sincerely.
I heated up the soup, made my way to the family room, and flipped on mindless TV. Too bad I couldn’t enjoy the mindless part, as my thoughts ricocheted around in my brain like a pinball game. Bouncing between my life four years ago, Bryce’s devastating situation, and Jules. But somehow the ball landed in the same hole every time. I’ve got Jules.
My emotions had been all over the map today, and suddenly, I felt like a dick (again) for being pissed off with her earlier. If I manned up, I would admit I was more jealous than anything else. I wondered when I got so needy. Probably right around the time I fell hard. A better man than me would be glad his woman was enjoying a carefree evening with her sisters. But I missed her. I wanted nothing more than for her to be cuddled up next to me with her arctic bare feet tucked under my ass, listening to me unload about Bryce’s nightmare. Knowing she’d somehow make it better. Pretty fucking selfish of me. Again.
A shrill noise pierced my eardrums, interrupting my pinball game before my next thought could fire. The hot soup spilled on my leg and I jumped up. What the … When I heard the high-pitched shriek again, instinct took over and I started sprinting.
The bedroom door was open. Maya was hunched over Finn’s bed, as his tiny body violently jerked and twisted in ways that should never be.
“Oh my God! What do we do? Oh my God,” she screamed, sliding to the floor, unable to control her sob. Bile slid up the back of my throat, and my eyes immediately burned watching my son’s body convulse. Why the hell?
I blinked past the scalding pain and forced my eyes to focus. Think. You need to goddamn think. The line between father and doctor blurred. “Maya, please!” I nudged her out of the way and knelt beside the bed. The covers I had just tucked up under his chin were strewn about. Finn’s stiff muscles shook so brutally his bed frame slammed against the wall. I quickly rolled him to his side to secure his airway and adjusted the pillow to protect his head. His skin felt cool. Fuck. No fever. Febrile seizures were fairly common. Cause and effect. Everything else was … worse.
I knew the stats—they were ingrained in my brain from the time of diagnosis. Nearly half of children with cerebral palsy experienced seizures. Finn had been fortunate enough to fall into the other fifty percent. Until now. Nausea rolled over me, considering this could be the first of many. And if CP wasn’t the cause … my gut clamped and I snapped at myself, “Stop.” Don’t go there.
Maya’s cries echoed louder, adding to the chaos. “Maya, calm down, give him a minute, he’ll come out of it.” He has to. I looked down at the second hand of my watch.
Thirty seconds.
Finn was still jerking
“Go call 9-1-1. Just in case. Now!” I ordered Maya without taking my eyes off my son. Quick mental math: medics could get here faster with some Ativan than I could get him to the ER.
Come on, Finn. Fight with me.
Sixty-five seconds.
My carotids pulsed so hard I felt my heartbeat hammering in my head. Time needed to stop dead. With each passing minute, risk of oxygen deprivation and lasting damage started to rise. Not an option. I cradled my shaking boy and waited. Two minutes twelve seconds. The contractions were less vigorous. Another ten seconds and all movement ceased. Thank you, God.
I sunk against the bed and buried my head against the side of Finn’s. His ragged breath bathed my cheek as his little heart pounded against my fingertips. I rubbed his back and called his name, “Finn. Daddy’s here—wake up, buddy. Open your eyes, Finny.” He coughed, trying to clear the extra saliva that had built up in his mouth. “Can you open your eyes for Daddy?” I moved to sit on the bed and repositioned his head onto my lap. Then I called out for Maya who I could hear on the phone in the living room. “Maya, cancel the ambulance!”
She was back in the doorway repeating my instructions into the phone. She tried her best, stumbling over words as she wiped her eyes. I motioned for the phone and took over. As soon I hung up, I handed it back to Maya. “Call the ER, tell them I want neuro waiting. Meg should be on tonight, if not, have them call her in.” I left no room for misinterpretation. She snapped into gear and pulled her shit together.
“Daddy,” Finn whimpered.
“Right here. I’m right here, buddy.”
His limp hand reached toward his pajama bottoms. My poor boy peed straight through. “It’s okay. You’re a little confused. Daddy’s here. Don’t worry about your pajamas, we’ll get you new ones.” He seemed alert enough to know he was wet which was a good sign, but like most postictal states, he was drowsy and lethargic.
After hanging up, Maya asked, “Should I wake Maxie?”
“No, you can stay with her here.”
&
nbsp; “I’d rather come. I’ll feel better if I can make sure he’s okay.” Whatever she wanted, I needed to get my little guy to the hospital.
I pushed his sweaty curls from his forehead and watched as his heavy lids fluttered closed. The burn behind my eyes returned and I couldn’t fight it. My vision blurred, and my cheeks dampened. Flaming hot air filtered in and out of my lungs as I struggled to catch my breath. So fucking unfair.
Fair is not getting what you think you deserve, it’s getting what you can handle.
My boy shouldn’t have to handle any of this.
Anything. That’s what I would have given to switch places, for this to have happened to me instead. That I could have handled. But this—this was unbearable. And I didn’t want to do it alone.
Fifteen.
The number of times I called her from the time I left the apartment to the moment I jogged into the ER carrying Finn’s lethargic body.
Now sixteen.
I held my cell to my ear and prayed she’d pick up.
And like the fifteen times before: No answer.
My own words coming back to bite me … I’ve got Jules.
I slipped into the double bed by the air conditioner. I always picked that one, just in case. The forecast was calling for it to dip to single digits outside, but there was a good chance I’d wake drenched to the bone tonight. That was if I ever really fell asleep. I didn’t have Guy next to me. He’d been keeping the dreams at bay lately. I stared at the stupid circle on my iPhone spinning continuously … searching, while the battery drained by the second.
I should have charged it on the ride up, instead I silenced it and buried it in my purse to try and ignore the stream of “thinking about you” messages from my extended family. They meant well and I loved them for that. But I also hated the reminder that seven years, twenty years, or even a hundred years, would never erase the hurt.
“Let’s try and get some sleep, it’s late.”
“Easier said than done. And I don’t remember cell service being this sucky last year,” I said, reaching my phone far above my head to improve my range and my chance to speak to Guy before it was too late.
“You know that’s not really doing anything, right? There’s not a tower for miles.”
I let out a disappointed sigh and my fingers somehow fumbled, gravity sending my cell smack into my face. “Ouch!” I yelped, tapping my tender upper lip.
“You okay?” And then I heard it—soft at first then louder—laughter vibrating off our cabin walls.
“It’s not funny. I think I’m bleeding.” My tongue touched the small cut leaving a metallic taste in my mouth. “I can’t believe this.” And I started to laugh too.
“Ice?”
“Nah, who’s gonna see me tomorrow?”
“Speaking of, I think we’re going to be the only ones hiking. Weather looks like shit. Freezing rain and cold.
Were we really discussing the weather? Frustrated over having no signal and my now swollen lip … I sighed. “Figures.”
“Bad time of year.” Did we need that reminder? “I didn’t mean that. I meant mid-March, Catskills. It’s always like this.”
“I know what you meant,” I replied. I knew.
This time of year wasn’t ideal, but that was irrelevant. We weren’t here to see the foliage. We were here to find a semblance of peace on our darkest day. This was our time to be pensive. Together we’d hike for hours, mostly quiet with our own thoughts, but taking solace that we’d both be sharing the unimaginable pain that we try to keep buried deep within the crevices of our souls.
We promised that this would never change.
It changed.
At least for me, everything had changed.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and the empty pit in my stomach churned. I clutched my sides and curled into a ball. Overwhelmed by the suffocating multitude of emotions, my mind drifted to my safe place. To Guy.
I missed him. I missed them. I missed our Friday night homemade saucy round pies and salt-rimmed margaritas. I missed making movies with Finn and playing house with Max. I missed being part of family time, even if it wasn’t my own. I missed his warm lips on mine. I missed his fingers in my hair. I missed feeling him rock deep inside me. But what I missed the most was falling asleep in his arms and waking up in his arms, even if it was only a few short hours so the kids didn’t realize where I slept. I missed that warmth, that comfort, those dreamless nights. My safe place.
Damn, I wished I could at least text him. He deserved so much more than a brief message. He deserved the truth. But our bubble was still floating unscathed. I couldn’t jeopardize it. There was no way I’d be the cause of the innocent snag, the accidental snip, or an unintentional tear.
I heard covers rustle, followed by, “Night, Jules.” The bedside lamp turned off, and the room filled with darkness. We were here together, but I’d never felt more alone.
I wished he was here.
It was wrong and selfish, but it was true.
Deep down, I knew this was the last time. We couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t do this anymore. We needed to talk, just not tonight.
“Good night,” I replied softly, glancing over at the glowing alarm clock. “I’m a little early, but Happy Birthday.”
I held my breath and waited. Silence. There was always silence. I pressed my hand over my broken heart. I wondered how much time I had before the fine stitches would give way.
Like I did every night, I closed my eyes and silently whispered my prayers. As sleep began to pull me under, a familiar ping forced me back. Then another. And another. Firing in rapid succession, each jarring tone intensified the sense of foreboding that accompanied middle of the night calls. I threw back the covers and grabbed for the illuminated screen.
Sixteen missed calls. All from the same sender. And a one-line text message that sucked all of the oxygen from the room.
“Jules, what’s wrong?”
I couldn’t respond. I tried to steady myself on the small desk, while my head spun like I was on one of those dreaded carnival rides as little lights flashed in front of my eyes.
My cell clunked against the wood top and my heart bottomed out.
“Jules, talk to me.”
“We have to go. Now. Right now.”
“Daddy, why does Finny always get sick at nighttime?”
I snuggled my girl to my chest as we watched Finn sleep. He was finally situated and resting comfortably in the PICU. Again.
“Just bad luck, peanut. Don’t worry, he’s all good now.” Please, let that be the truth.
“When we go home, he can sweep in my bed. It has fairy pwincesses on it. Fairy pwincesses are good luck. Right, Daddy?”
The knot in my throat might as well have been a spike. I swallowed it down and answered, “Absolutely. But I bet your brother would want you to have good luck too.”
“But I’m the big sister,” she whined. God, I loved my daughter.
“Yes, you are. You’re the best big sister. I have an idea. How about you help pick out some new good luck sheets for Finn when we get home. Okay?” She half-smiled. For tonight, that would have to do. “But right now, why don’t you try and close your eyes?”
“When Finny doesn’t feel good my tummy feels funny.”
“Me too, peanut. Me too.”
I hated this for Maxie as much as I did for her brother. It didn’t help we dragged her out of bed again. I should have insisted Maya stay home, but she was upset, and all I cared about was getting Finn to the hospital. My girl curled deeper into my chest and released a small sigh.
When we arrived at the ER, Meg was waiting and Guillroy was conference-called in. They ordered a brain CT that, thank fuck, was normal, ruling out some of the more rare etiologies. His initial lab work was normal, his vitals strong, and he was without fever. He still needed an EEG, but since he was clinically stable it could wait until morning.
Without a distinct cause, a seizure in a child with cerebral palsy usu
ally went hand and hand with epilepsy. I knew this. I didn’t want to know this. But Meg confirmed this. She also informed me that anticonvulsants were usually initiated after a second unprovoked episode, but they often broke protocol with children with CP because they were at higher risk. Again, something I really didn’t want to know. Chronic anti-seizure medication was something I wasn’t ready to accept.
Maya had gone to scrounge up a few extra blankets for the cot. When she walked back in, she said, “Let me take her. Why don’t you go and get some coffee?”
She took a sleeping Max from my lap and tucked her into what was becoming her bed away from home. Shit. I slumped forward, elbows to knees, both hands tangled in my hair, when I heard Finn stirring.
“Hey, buddy.” He sat up, squinting. “How you feeling?” I reached for his glasses on the side table and slipped them between his curls.
His little hand clutched two of my fingers. “JuJu make me feel better, Daddy.”
His words sucked every drop of air from my lungs and stung like a punch to the gut. I knew exactly what he meant. In such a short time, Jules had carved a role into our lives. Jules made everything better. With her smile and laugh. With her presence. The knot in my throat was so tight I couldn’t speak. I wasn’t the only one in deep. Too deep?
“Oh, Curly Cue, I bet a snack will make you feel better. You must be starved.” Maya deflected, giving me a second to pull my shit together. She sat on the other side of the bed and pulled Finn into her lap to kiss his temple. Finn perked up at snack and cheesed.
My boy, whose body shook so violently his bladder failed him, was giving me his Chiclets, making me feel better. His innocence was truly a blessing. A gift. If I could only keep him blissfully unaware. Especially from this looming diagnosis that would forever change his life. Please, please give us a pass.
Abruption Page 13
