"An ambulance is on the way. Maybe they should check you out while we're there."
"An ambulance?" I choose to ignore the second thing she said. I'm not letting them near my head any sooner than I have to. The spasms seem to have slowed, but I'm so used to this sometimes it's hard to tell.
"He hit his head when he fell. I was in the other room."
For the first time I notice my mom's disheveled appearance. Her normally smooth hair is sticking all over the place and fresh tears streak her face, smudging her makeup. Brightly painted shards of pottery speckle the floor around her.
The pill bowl.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I called the hospital first. You were next."
Of course. How selfish can I be?
We remain like that until uniformed men flood the kitchen. They wrap one of those collar things around Dad's neck, strap him to a gurney, then wheel him from the house.
I grab my phone. "Can you drive?" I definitely don't want to relive this.
We follow the ambulance through the neighborhood past rows and rows of trees, all standing straight and proud and ready to fuck with my head.
"Shit."
"Biz."
"Sorry. I left my sunglasses in my car." Yes, I could look the other way, but it’s the inconvenience that irritates me.
She fumbles in the center console and hands me a pair of oversized shades.
"Thanks."
"Are you sure you won't let them examine you?"
I can feel her watching me. "I'm getting tired of always having to convince everyone that I'm okay. Yes, I get headaches but there are worse things in the world." I nod at the ambulance in front of us.
Her lips set in a firm line. I pushed too far.
"I'm sorry mom. I know you're worried. But please stop worrying about me."
We don't speak again until we arrive at the hospital, where we're faced with a kaleidoscope of lights bouncing off the bright white walls of the emergency entrance. Pinpricks shoot from the tips of my fingers straight up my arms. Same thing in my feet. The heaviness slams into me. This is much faster than with the sunlight. My only comfort is knowing that artificial light can't make me flicker. I only feel everything else.
Mom knows light affects me, but she only knows about the headaches. But this is so severe I'm not sure if I can pretend that nothing is happening.
I stumble as we pass by the ambulance that ferried my dad and a strong hand grips my arm, keeping me on my feet. A pair of eyes I've never seen appear.
"Are you all right?"
For the love of god, would people please stop asking me that? I nod dumbly. I don't think I'm very convincing because he guides me to the back of the open ambulance and sits me on the bumper.
Now Mom is hovering behind his shoulder, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes dart between me and the entrance to the hospital.
"Mom, go with Dad. I'll be there in a minute. I just got dizzy." I blink hard and when I open my eyes, she's gone. A small part of me wishes she hadn't listened, but then I'd just be bitching that she worries too much. I focus on the man still kneeling in front of me. "Thanks for catching me. I've had a migraine for a couple days and I guess it just caught up with me."
He's still holding my arms. "I'm choosing to believe you, even though I get the feeling it's more than just a migraine."
I take a second look at him. He’s older than me but much younger than my parents, and way more filled out than the guys at school. At first glance I figured him for the guy who drove the ambulance, but—
He smiles. "I've got a thing for neurology."
An urge to flee zips through me. "That sounds cool." Swallowing hard, I force a smile. There's no way this guy knows anything. I push to my feet and he takes a step back.
"I didn't mean to upset you."
I glance at his name tag. Martinez. "You didn't. You're just doing your job." I nod at the entrance. "I gotta go see my dad." I rush through the automatic door and glance over my shoulder.
He's still watching me.
*****
The nurse at the front desk smiles when she sees me. "They're working on him now. Your mom's already in the waiting room."
"Thanks." I move on auto-pilot; past the desk, past the swinging doors where doctors put people back together, and through the glass doors to the waiting room. Although it's Friday, it's still early and there aren't many people here. A couple huddle together on the only sofa, and a woman with two little kids is camped in the chairs near the TV. Mom is standing near the floor-length window, her back to the room, no doubt trying to pretend we aren't in the hospital.
Again.
I approach her cautiously. Now that Dad's with the doctors, whatever check she had on her emotions is about to come unhinged. "Did they say anything?"
She faces me. Her mascara has finished its transition from her lashes to her cheeks and her lower lip is bleeding.
I wrap an arm around her. "Mom, he'll be okay." I want to believe that. I have to. They say teenagers believe they're invincible, but I think it goes beyond that. Parents are invincible too. Because what happens if something happens to them?
"They think he fractured his skull when he fell. They won't know for sure until they get the X-rays back, which should be," she checks her watch, "in another ten minutes or so. I just hope to god he doesn't need surgery." She turns away from the window and drops into the nearest chair with her head in her hands.
The couple on the couch watch us for a moment before pressing their foreheads together again.
I don't know what to say. I want to reassure her, but A, I don't know that he'll be okay, and B, I figure the less I talk the more she'll stay focused on Dad and not remember that she wants me to get my head looked at. I'm tempted to feel my chin to see if it's bruising, but I may as well set off a flare. If there was a bruise she would have said something by now.
My beeping cell phone yanks me out of my reverie and I silence it. I go to my texts. Amelia wants to know when I'll be over.
"Sorry. Dad's in hospital. Maybe tomorrow?" I text back.
I fall into the chair next to Mom and wait for her reply.
Mom straightens in her seat. "You don't need to wait here. I'll be all right if you want to go outside and make a call."
"Are you sure? What if they come back with news?"
"Then I'll come get you. Just stay where I can see you from the doors."
I hesitate. Yeah, I want to talk to Amelia, but despite what I said I really am worried about Dad. Mom doesn't hold her shit together very well when she's by herself. "Do you promise to come get me?"
She nods, but her eyes are already glazed over.
I kiss her cheek, then head for the exit, stopping at the main desk. "I'm going outside, but will you make sure someone gets me if anything happens with my dad? My mom…" I hate to talk bad about her, but they know.
The nurse smiles for the second time since I've been there. "Of course."
Chapter 8
Technically the low wall alongside the area where the ambulances drop off patients isn’t a waiting area, but no one's ever yelled at me. Amelia still hasn't texted back, so I call her.
"Hey, is your dad okay? It's been awhile since he's had to go to the hospital, right?"
"Yeah, not since last winter." That day played out much the same way, except there was two feet of snow and our car spun into a ditch. That's probably why Mom called the ambulance this time.
"So… how is this one different?" Amelia doesn't like to pry—that's one of the things I love about her—but it's a fair question. Usually Dad's seizures are pretty mild and we just ride them out at home.
"They think he cracked his skull when he fell." I touch my chin. "Then I caught a foot in the face. That was fantastic."
She gasps. "Is your mom freaking out?"
I snort. "What do you think?" Guilt pricks me and I look down at the ground. "I can't blame her though. Every time is scary, even the mild ones."
<
br /> There's a pause and I realize Amelia doesn't know what to say.
I clear my throat. "So do you want to hear my plan?"
A breathy chuckle erupts through the phone. "I thought you'd never ask! Tell me, how do you plan to get Trace to notice me?"
"Well," I say, drawing it out, "my latest photo assignment is to put together a fake sports page for the school paper. I figure I'll take pictures of the soccer game, then ask Trace if I can interview him." Never mind the fact that I've never interviewed anyone in my life. This is what you do for friends. "You, naturally, will be my assistant."
There's a thump and I can hear her clap her hands. "I love it!" she shouts, her voice miles away. There's rustling, then her voice is clearer. "Sorry, the phone kinda shot out from under my chin. Do you think that'll work?"
"I hadn't considered that it wouldn't. What guy–especially a jock–doesn't like to talk about himself?"
"Biz, that's awesome! So when are we going?"
"I think there's a game on Tuesday. But you need to help me come up with questions. You know I'm no good at that kind of stuff." She giggles and I roll my eyes. "And nothing about his abs or his legs!"
"Oh, come on!"
I laugh again and an EMT glances at me. I mouth ‘sorry' and shift so I'm facing away from him. I want to tell her about Cameron, but part of me hesitates. If I say it out loud it'll be real and then it's only a matter of time before it all goes to shit.
"Speaking of super hot boys…" Amelia prompts.
"It's like you fricking read my mind sometimes, you know?"
"That's why I'm your best friend. Spill it. Did he want to talk about his sister?"
I'm sure we talked about his sister, but the first thing I remember is how badly I wanted to kiss him. I touch my lips.
"Helloooo?"
I shake my head. "He brought her up, but we didn't really talk much."
"Oh?" The innuendo in her voice nearly topples me over.
"What?"
"I've seen the way he looks at you. I figured now that you dumped Robbie things might happen with you two."
Heat shoots through me. Maybe it wasn't in my head. "Where the hell have I been during all this?"
"I don't know. When you told me you were going for a drive with him I assumed you liked him." She pauses. "Do you like him?"
Cameron's muscular arms flash through my mind, followed by his smile, his legs, and those lips.
"Ha, I knew it!"
"But what if I screw everything up? I don't want to lose him as a friend."
"Biz, as your younger and less experienced friend, I have to tell you that sometimes that's a risk you have to take."
Younger my ass. I'm only two weeks older. "Did you read that at inspirational-poems-dot-com?"
She snorts. "Close. Turning-your-friend-into-a-lover-dot-net."
I burst out laughing and my face burns. Kissing was as far as I'd allowed my imagination to go, but a rush of images floods my head and now I can't think straight.
Which works out well because the smiley nurse is heading my way.
"Amelia, I gotta go."
"Okay. Call me later."
I disconnect and meet the nurse in the center of the ambulance bay. "Is he okay?"
She guides me back to where I'd been standing. "They've finished examining him and would like to keep him overnight for observation. There's a small fracture in the back of his skull but it doesn't look like there's any serious damage."
I look at the doors.
"The doctor already talked to your mom. She wants to stay here, although there really isn't any need. Do you have a way home, or do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"
I bristle, then immediately chastise myself. She's just trying to be nice. "I'll need to find a ride home, but I'm fine by myself."
She looks around. "You know, I bet Rick can drop you off. I'll radio him and find out where he's at."
"Rick?"
"Martinez. The EMT who brought your dad in."
"I don't know…"
She dismisses my concern with a wave of her hand. "He's completely harmless. I bet he'll let you play with the lights if you ask nicely."
That's so not where I was going with that, but there's no sense arguing. I need a ride home and apparently this Rick will do whatever she asks. If only I had a tinfoil hat for the ride home. "Let me make sure my mom's okay with me leaving."
"Your dad's in room 214. I'll come get you when Rick is here."
Great.
I trudge up the stairs to the second floor, digging deep for the energy to comfort Mom.
She's sitting in a plastic chair pulled tight against the bed. A fluorescent light flickers over Dad's bandaged head, the blue-white impulses casting long shadows around the room as he sleeps. Or lies there unconscious.
I knock lightly on the door before entering. "Mom, can I get you anything? Have you eaten?" I know she won't—not while my dad is like this—but I can't not offer.
She looks up as if surprised to see me. The mascara's been wiped from her face, revealing red puffy skin that threatens to close her eyes. "No, I'm fine. I'll just wait here with your father."
My eyes close against the harsh lights, but the stabbing near my ear remains. I take a deep breath. "The nurse said you're gonna stay here?"
She murmurs softly, but I can't tell if she's answering me or talking to Dad.
"Mom?"
"You go on home, dear. There's no sense in us both staying."
I tell myself she's a little concerned with how I'll get home, or the fact that I'll be staying home alone. I mean, I could have a party and trash the house. I back away towards the hall.
"Biz?" Mom lifts her head, her glassy eyes on me.
My hand rests on the doorknob.
"Please be careful. I know you don't want the doctors looking at you, but I haven't forgotten what happened."
My chest tightens. I give her a small smile. "I will, Mom."
*****
Rick is leaning against the ambulance when I walk outside. "Samantha says you need a ride home."
Something about the way he's standing—one foot propped against the ambulance, his arms crossed over his chest—makes me uncomfortable. Earlier I hadn't really looked at him, but now that it's just the two of us out here I'm suddenly aware of how… male… he is. Strong arms, with tendons twisting to his wrists, ending at hands could crush my head. I'm not sure whether to be frightened or—
"So, do you?"
My hand snakes to the back of my neck and squeezes. I can't think straight with this stupid headache. "Yeah, thanks."
"Well hop on in." He shoves away from the ambulance with his foot and opens the passenger door in one fluid movement.
I move past him, suddenly self-conscious. I've never been inside an ambulance before. For the most part it looks like a regular truck, just bigger and with a lot more buttons. Not to mention the computer. A row of switches on the ceiling catch my attention.
"You can flip ‘em on once we're on the road. Most kids think it's fun."
I scowl at him. "I'm not twelve."
He holds up his hands. "Hey, I don't know. I'm doing Samantha a favor and thought I'd try to be nice." He guns the engine and we roll away from the hospital.
Dusk has settled and neon lights blink all around us. My eyes close out of habit. I'm about to ask him how he knows where we're going when I remember he was already at my house. My thoughts flit to Dad and I sink back in the seat. Maybe I shouldn't have left.
"You sure it's just a headache that's affecting you?"
I raise an eyebrow without opening my eyes. "Why do you ask?"
Based on the length of his pause, he's considering his answer carefully. "Like I said, I'm into neurology and the way your pupils were all over the place…" He shakes his head.
My pupils? This is new to me. I open one eye. "What were they dilated or something?"
He glances at me, his eyes bright with curiosity. "One of them was."
"I don't know what's going on with you, but you should really get it checked out. You don't want to find out too late that you have something seriously wrong with your brain. It's not like pulling a muscle or breaking a bone. Once your brain goes haywire it's a lot harder to fix."
Fantastic.
"I'm not trying to scare you. At least, not too much, but you seem like a smart kid," he smirks. "I'm sorry, young woman. And I'd hate for you to waste that because you're skittish around MDs."
"Who are you?" The words fly from my mouth before I can stop them. "I mean…" I'm more shocked than pissed but I can't backtrack now. "You meet me for two seconds and you think you can analyze me? Don't they have patients at the hospital for you to play around with?"
His jaw clenches. His hard eyes meet mine. "Yeah, they do. But the ones with these problems are already dead."
That shuts me up.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a jerk. If you say you're fine I guess I have to accept that. But will you promise me one thing?"
"Sure. Because I make promises to strangers all the time."
"If whatever is wrong with you gets worse, will you tell someone?"
I turn away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. He'd be a good doctor if he's this passionate about every person he encounters.
The streetlights on my block are on, but my house is dark. He pulls into the driveway. "You didn't answer."
"I know."
"Okay, at the very least, don't forget what I've said. I guess that's all I can really hope for."
I smile at him, but my lips feel lopsided. "That I can do." I open the door and jump down to the driveway. "Thanks for the ride."
He nods and waits in the driveway, the ambulance idling, until I've let myself into the house.
Inside, I check every room, lock every door and window, and turn on every light. I put a frozen dinner in the microwave and lean on the counter while it cooks.
I text Amelia to say hi, then Cameron, then continue to wait.
Flicker Page 4
