by Lainey Davis
This just feels like comfort. I even feel my aura ease up in the shaded yard that smells of honeysuckle and cooking food. This could be ok. Alice pops out of the back door carrying a tray of skewered meat and vegetables. When she sees Thatcher and me, she shoves the tray into someone's hands and comes running through the yard. "You made it! I'm so glad!"
She pulls me in for a hug and I have to quickly move the flowers out of the way. I flush, feeling badly at taking advantage of her kindness with our illusion, but I hand her the blooms. She buries her nose into the flowers and says, "I love them. I'm going to put them on the windowsill." She links her arm through mine. "Come with me into the kitchen and meet Juniper."
Alice passes me around to all the women inside the house--her sister, Amy, who is hugely pregnant with her third son but still making it through three 12-hour nursing shifts each week; Anna Stag, the brothers' grandmother who lives on the third floor of Tim and Alice's house; and Juniper Jones. The bride to be, focus of my next feature assignment. Her smile is warm as she greets me. "Thatcher hasn't told us a thing about you," she says, "So we're all dying to know everything."
"Everything," says Anna, shoving a drink toward me. "Drink up and spill, Emma."
"Oh," I say. "I don't drink alcohol, actually. Is there maybe some water?"
Amy raises an eyebrow at me and pats her stomach. "Any particular reason you're off the booze? Is this why Thatcher is suddenly engaged out of the blue?"
Alice claps her hands and Juniper's jaw drops. Their grandmother laughs and slaps the counter. They all stare at me. I flush, my body filled with heat. "No! Oh my god. No. I just…I can't…there's a medication I take and I…"
My voice trails off. I don't want to explain all of this. Anna actually looks disappointed, and starts chugging the drink she'd prepared for me. Thankfully, Amy walks over with another glass. "Try this," she says. "It's watermelon blended with coconut milk and mint. You almost won't miss the rum that's not in it."
I exhale and take a sip. It's delicious--refreshing enough that my nausea passes and the weird glow of my aura subsides a little further. I thank her and brace myself for the inquisition that follows. By the time Alice is ready to announce dinner, I've given them the full lie Thatcher and I had planned out about how we met, reinforced that we don't want to steal from Juniper and Ty's celebration by making a big deal of our engagement, and I even managed to get Juniper's work number to call her this week about an interview.
"My coach will be beside himself about the publicity," she says. Everything is going so well. I sit down by Thatcher, who drapes an arm over my shoulder and glares at me when I instinctively stiffen. I try to relax, and then I sink my teeth into Alice's Thai feast and I feel like I could stay here forever, eating myself into oblivion.
Thirteen
THATCHER
"Emma seems cool, bro," Ty whispers as she walks over to get more food. "She's real down to earth compared to…well. She's cool." Ty sighs. I know he's remembering some of the other women I've brought to his games. Flashy women who never dress appropriately for an ice rink, but who never mind because I'm always happy to whisk them away and warm them up.
Ty's right about Emma. She's nothing like any of those women. She's totally at home here in jeans and a well-loved t-shirt with a pair of Toms. And she's eating, right in front of my family. As a matter of fact, I feel like I need to lean over and protect my bowl of Tom Kha soup so Emma doesn't steal it from me. I see why she got so excited to learn Alice had driven all over the place for the ingredients. I need to make more requests from Alice, because this shit is delicious. I slurp the last of the broth and swallow, clapping Ty on the back. "Thanks, Ty. She's all right I guess."
He laughs at what he thinks is just a wry joke. "How come she doesn't have an engagement ring?"
Shit. He noticed. "Well…" I need to stall. Emma and I hadn't really talked about this, but she comes to my rescue.
"I don't need one. I told Thatcher I'd rather we spend the money on a down payment for a house." I could kiss her for thinking so fast, but I promised I'd be a gentleman, so I settle for stroking her cheek. I only touch her because my family has to buy that we're a couple in love, so I'm a little taken aback by the spark of heat I feel when I connect with her skin. Maybe she's just hot. She looks a little pale, come to think of it, but she smiles for an instant before her face drops back to a worried look. She seems off, but I can only concentrate on her scent as she leans against my arm. She smells nice, fruity and fresh but not overpowering. Different from the last time, I think, then feel unsettled that I'm remembering her different scents. This is unexpected.
The conversation around the table shifts and everyone starts helping with cleanup. I notice Emma seems to be struggling a little to stand up. "Hey," I whisper into her ear. "You ok?"
She nods slightly, but doesn't meet my eyes. "Just…maybe I need some water."
"Stay here. I'll grab some for you." I walk over to the cooler to grab a bottle of water but I hear someone scream.
"Thatcher!"
I look up and Emma is on the ground. Her body is stiff and Amy is crouched over her. I can't tell what's going on, so I rush over, then I see her face and I freeze in shock and fear.
"Thatcher," Amy's voice comes through my fog and I look at her, still not speaking. "What do we need to know about Emma? She said she takes medication?"
"I…I…" I struggle for words. I have no fucking clue what Amy is talking about. I barely know this girl and she's having some sort of convulsions on the lawn of my brother's house. Emma's face is stiff, her eyes unseeing. Her body twitches violently on the lawn. A minute passes and she turns her head sharply and vomits in the grass.
I notice Amy fumbling around with Emma's arm, tugging on the bracelet she always wears. I squint and notice that the rose-colored metal has one of those snake symbols on it. A Medic Alert bracelet. Huh. "Ok we need to get her to the emergency department," Amy says. "Emma has epilepsy, but I don't know if she's had her rescue medications or how long she's been seizing."
I can't seem to move or concentrate. "Seizing?" None of this makes sense. Wouldn't I have been able to tell if she had epilepsy?
"Thatcher!" Alice's sister is yelling at me and shaking my shoulders. "Pick her up and carry her to the car. We're going to the hospital." I do as she says and climb in the back seat of Amy's minivan with Emma. I have no idea what to do.
Amy climbs in the drivers seat and Alice leans in the window to hand me a package of wet wipes. "So you can clean her up a little bit," Alice says, patting my hand. I look at Emma and nod. Her body is relaxed now, but she's totally zonked.
"Amy, what the hell is going on here?"
Amy looks at me in the rear view mirror. "Hasn't this happened before? How long have you been together?"
I try to dodge that question. "Never, Aim. I have never seen her like this."
Amy sighs. "Some people go months without a big seizure, especially if they're managing their medications. From what Emma said in the kitchen she must be pretty careful."
"She did say she wasn't feeling awesome, but I didn't know that meant…what should I do?"
I see Amy shrug as she pulls into the turn-around at the hospital. "At this point we probably just give her some benzos and let her sleep. But they'll probably have her info on file." Amy parks the van. "Carry her inside and I'll meet you in there after I park. Tell whoever's in triage that you're with me."
I carry Emma's sleeping form inside and drop Amy's name. They take me right back to a small room with a gurney, so I get Emma situated. Her clothes are a wreck. The nurse asks if I want help getting Emma into a gown, and it feels wrong for me to undress her in this state, so I nod and step back while she works. I turn away and see Amy bustling down the hallways as fast as a hugely pregnant person can shuffle.
She gives me the side eye and helps the nurse lift Emma's hips to take off her jeans. I feel myself flush at the sight of Emma's pink flowered panties, and I turn away, feeling super unc
omfortable about this whole situation.
I hear a young, deep voice finishing a phone call and look up to see a man in scrubs, carrying an iPad. "Amy, didn't think I'd see you until Tuesday. What've we got here?"
"Oh, Jeremy. I'm glad it's you. Listen, this is my brother-in-law's fiancé. Wait. Are you my brother in law? This is my sister's brother in law…his brother is married to--"
"Amy, spare me the ancestry report. What's wrong?"
"Emma had a seizure. Her medic alert bracelet says she has epilepsy but I don't know what meds she takes, if she took her rescues, anything. Thatcher here has just been totally numb with worry, which is sweet, but useless."
I don't even bother to scowl at her, because I do feel sort of shell-shocked. I pretend I'm too upset to remember her birth date, but I manage to spell Emma's last name for the doctor, who clicks around in his iPad. "Cheswick, Cheswick…here we go. Hm." He looks down at Emma and starts to examine her. I hear him ask the nurse for something that sounds like ox, which can't be right, but he lifts one of her eyelids and shines a light in her eye. They hook some machines up to Emma while I shift my weight uncomfortably.
"Listen," Dr. Jeremy says to me. "You're not listed on her chart, so I need to call what I assume are her parents. I can't say much more than that, even to a colleague who isn't on duty." I nod and he gives some info to another person in scrubs. I look over at Amy with a pained expression.
Amy scowls and says, "Hypothetically, Jeremy, if a patient presented unconscious after a tonic-clonic seizure, what would your treatment be?"
Jeremy smiles and squeezes my arm. "Hypothetically, I'd check out her heart rate and her oxygen levels, do some tests, but mostly give her some meds to help her sleep and discharge her after she woke up. I'd have this hypothetical patient follow up with her neurologist on Monday…except I believe I saw this patient's hypothetical neurologist in the coffee shop a few minutes ago. If you'll excuse me, I feel the need for caffeine."
Amy smiles as he walks down the hallway.
"What the hell just happened here?" I ask her. I really feel like my head is spinning.
"She's going to be fine. They called her parents to fill them in, so you'll probably see them soon. Are they as nice as Emma?"
Oh shit, I think. Suddenly our innocuous plan is dragging us both deeper into the damn swamp. Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?
Fourteen
EMMA
When I wake up, I have no idea where I am, but I know I've had a seizure. Shit. It's been months. Months! My head aches, but the aura is gone and I feel, above all, complete relief. My senses and awareness slowly catch up to me, and I hear a familiar, unwelcome voice.
"I just don't understand what's going on here at all. Edward, who are these people? Who is this caveman in Emma's room? Why is she still down here and not in a private room upstairs? Where is that doctor? Edward?" My mother is on one of her rants, and I start putting things together before I attempt to open my eyes.
I must be in the hospital, which means they called my damn parents. I remember feeling better, but then worse and asking Thatcher to get me some water after dinner. The rest is totally gone. Caveman…
I open my eyes and I see Thatcher sitting in a chair across the room. He looks worried. His legs are spread wide and he's hunched over on his elbows, his chin in his hands. Amy is here, too. She struggles to stand up and I hear her friendly voice talking to my mother. "You must be Mrs. Cheswick! I'm so glad to meet you. I'm Amy. Alice's sister."
My father scowls, adjusting his tie. "And just who is Alice?" His voice is toneless. I can see him classifying Thatcher and Amy as unimportant.
"Thatcher," Amy looks at him uncomfortably. "Introduce me to Emma's parents."
"I can assure you," my mom cuts in, "that I have never seen this man before in my life."
Amy opens her mouth to start saying something, and I decide now is a good time for a distraction. I groan and try to sit up.
"Oh, dear. You're awake." My mother bustles over to the bed and puts the back of her hand against my forehead. "I just knew this was bound to happen."
"Of course, Mom. I have seizures because I have epilepsy. Not because I moved into the city."
She clucks her tongue at me and starts asking a million questions about "this new aged neurologist" she doesn't approve of. Just because the guy she and dad sent me to for years couldn't control my symptoms and would never try any new medications…or even read about trials that might be helpful. "This is a research hospital, Mom. They know what they're doing here."
My father snorts and my mother looks over at Thatcher and Amy again. "Emma, shouldn't your friends be heading home now, dear?" I hate her tone. I hate everything about the way my parents judge anyone who doesn't seem like they're going to cut a huge campaign donation.
"Look," Amy's on her feet now, and a pregnant, frustrated Amy is apparently no one to be trifled with. "I don't know why you'd talk about Emma's fiancé this way, but I'm going to assume you're all just upset and in shock. So I'm going to go home and eat dessert. Thatcher, call me later."
Amy saunters out of the room just as the word "fiancé" registers with my mother.
"Fiancé?" she repeats it about six times, her voice increasing an octave each time. "Don't be ridiculous, Emma. You cannot marry someone like…you cannot marry this man. Do you even know this man? Where did you meet?"
"Look, Mrs. Cheswick," now Thatcher is on his feet. "You really don't get to talk about me this way. I don't give a shit who you are or how much your pearls cost. I'm here to support Emma and my guess is she has a pretty bad headache right now, so you're going to need to tone it down or I'm going to get someone to escort you out."
My face breaks into the biggest smile I can remember smiling. Nobody ever speaks to my mother this way. I want to watch as she sputters and tries to gather her wits, but even being awake this long has been difficult. My body needs to sleep.
"Emma Cheswick," she hisses at me. "Are you engaged to be married to this barbarian?"
"Mom, Dad, this is Thatcher Stag," I croak. "And he's right about the headache. I promise to tell you all about him when I wake up, but for now I need to go back to sleep." I feel the medication kicking in. They must have given me an IV. Yes, there. I can feel it in my hand now that I focus on it. I am vaguely aware of my mother and father arguing, then leaving the room. I drift off, sinking into sleep.
I wake up again. I know I'm in the hospital, but I have no idea how much time has passed. I don't hear anyone in my room. I feel the urge to stretch, and find that I can, easily, though my muscles are aching. When I try to sit up, I see that Thatcher is still in my room. That's unexpected.
"Hey," he says. "You're up." He puts down a notebook where he'd been writing something. Sketching?
"What time is it?" There are no windows in my room. Am I still in the emergency department?
"Well, Chezz," he says, reaching for a cup of coffee. "It's about 9am."
I sit bolt upright. "It's Monday? Shit!" I start to get out of the bed, flinging the IV line, but Thatcher walks over and touches my arm.
"Hey," he says. "Don't be mad at me. But I called the receptionist at the Post and told her you were sick. I didn't say with what."
"You did that for me?" I look into his eyes. "That was very thoughtful, Thatcher. Thank you." I am definitely in no shape to go to work today. But I still feel desperate to get home. I hate that I've lost most of a day. I'm going to be so behind on work and--then I remember. I had a seizure at Thatcher's family dinner. "Your family. What must they think of me?" I bury my hands in my hair, tugging in frustration.
"Well, they've called here about 8 million times, worried sick and asking why I didn't tell them you have epilepsy."
I snort. "Because it's none of their damn business."
"Well I guess that's why you didn't tell me you have epilepsy, then." Thatcher scratches his beard. "So what does all this mean?" He gestures around the room.
I sigh. "
It means I felt this coming on yesterday, but I didn't want to cancel on you…or Alice, so I didn't take the medication I should have. It was stupid. I haven't had a seizure in--well, it's been over a year."
"Emma, you don't have to put your health at risk for this…me. I--"
"This is why I don't tell people, Stag." I snap at him. "I don't want your pity or your deep concern or your fake, polite kindness. We both know that's not you. I don't tell people because I don't want to be treated differently or given a pass for family dinner. It's my business. I'm an adult."
"Ok, ok. Chill out, Chezz. Jesus."
"Oh, so I'm 'Chezz' now and not 'sweetheart?'"
Thatcher gives me an odd look and throws a plastic bag at me. "I got your keys from your purse and got you some fresh clothes from your apartment."
I look down at the bag. This is so totally unexpected that I have no idea how to respond. This is something Nicole would do. This is a friend move. I don't trust many people to know what I need without my having to ask them for help. I swallow.
He chugs the rest of his coffee and throws the cup in the trash. "Why don't you get dressed and I'll drive you home. Your doctor said you were good to go whenever you woke up." I nod slowly and he steps into the hall, pulling the curtain closed around the doorway as he leaves the room.
Fifteen
THATCHER
I start pacing the halls of the emergency department, waiting for Emma to get dressed. This whole thing is getting really intense. After she fell asleep and her parents left, I drove around the city for a long time, just trying to calm down. No wonder she's secretive and private, if her parents are like that. I know I don't look like my brother Tim, between all my piercings and tattoos and facial hair. But who the fuck wants to look like that? Fuck Emma's dad for thinking that's the only way to hold value in the world.
