Roller Coaster

by Karin Kallmaker

  The kids had agreed-with some relief-to make themselves mostly scarce for the evening, though Justin had said if there would be more naked boobies he wanted to stay. Laura smiled to herself remembering that perfect moment when the red arc of Cass's wine had caught the light just before it doused that idiotic ass's face and shirtfront. She kept herself focused on that because otherwise she'd get the shivers again remembering Helen's announcement.

  It was one thing to be hopelessly in love with a straight woman. And quite another to be hopelessly in love with another lesbian. When there was no chance of being loved back, a person could stay out of the game. Helen could return her love, it seemed, but wouldn't unless Laura had the guts to ante up and eventually show her cards.

  She didn't know what to do. Nothing while she was Helen's employee, that was for sure, she told herself.

  So she cooked.

  For food service on Sunday night she planned to spend all of Friday on pastry for savory tarts and desserts, plus breaking down her basic produce and doing its first prep: sauté onions, leeks and shallots, roast garlic, char and peel roasted peppers and so on. It would be a long day, but with all the space she needed and a large commercial refrigerator to throw it all in, she could work very, very quickly. She'd promised Justin food if he would help her out tonight, but time would tell if he'd show up or text that he was heading out with new skateboard buddies to explore before it got dark. She expected a text from Julie that she was safely at an after-school club meeting and then another that she had arrived safely home.

  She paused only long enough to devour some lunch, then pulled the last of the tins of mini-tartlet shells out of the oven and added them to the tall cooling rack. She'd let them rest, then plastic wrap the entire rack and roll it into the refrigerator. The workspace was warming up as other people arrived to use their allotted space and fired up their own grills and ovens. She belatedly remembered to hydrate and was grateful to find a sweatband in the pocket of her apron. It had been a while since she'd been in the real fire-and she had missed it.

  Just after two her phone rang with the kids' school on the caller ID. A brisk but calm voice asked for Helen.

  "This is Mrs. Baynor's household manager. You can speak to me. It's in the paperwork."

  "There's a medical situation with Julie and we really think Mrs. Baynor should be notified."

  The rest of the room dimmed. The phone threatened to slip out of her suddenly slick hand. "What do you mean? I'll notify her immediately. Tell me what's happened."

  "She's broken out in a severe rash and we're concerned about measles-"

  "She has food allergies. Has she taken an antihistamine?" She cradled the phone on her shoulder while she hurriedly washed her hands. "Let me talk to her."

  "She's in some distress-I'm sorry. The school nurse says we need to call nine-one-one. She's starting to have some trouble breathing."

  Laura said a bad word. Her heart was twisting and pounding. "Where will they take her?"

  "We need to talk to Mrs. Baynor."

  "Tell me where they're taking her-until I can locate Julie's mother I'm the medical decision maker. I'm all you've got. So please tell me."

  "Lenox Hill."

  She hung up. No time for niceties. Every cab driver in New York knew where Lenox Hill Hospital was. She threw kitchen towels over the top of any open bowls, made sure all the burners and ovens were off and shrugged out of her apron. She reeked of sweat and onion. The old hoodie she pulled on didn't help much.

  "One of my kids had to go to the ER," she told the woman at the next station.

  "I'm here at least until midnight, hon. Wedding tomorrow. I'll keep an eye out on your stuff." Laura barely had time to make eye contact with the woman and couldn't have said later if she was tall, Hobbit, black or purple.

  She found a cab by throwing herself in front of one. Once inside she tried to call Helen, but got her voice mail. Today she was in New Jersey with the other producers on a long call scheduled with Trevor. She went to her next source.

  "Cass, there's some kind of emergency with Julie. I'm going to Lenox Hill. I can't reach Helen. Do you have numbers for Patrick or Casey or their office? That's where she is."

  "I can find them. What should I tell her?"

  "The school thought it was measles. I think it's allergies. She was having trouble breathing and they wouldn't tell me anything."

  "You focus on Julie. I'll find Helen."

  The cab driver was a sympathetic Pakistani man who explained at length his choice of route. "I know this is faster this time of day. Friday you can't go on the FDR."

  "Thank you," Laura said several times and thought irrelevantly that people were the same the world over-for the most part they were kind. She hoped her food and knives were still there when she got back, but they were only things. They could be replaced.

  She was terrified but that felt far away. Her mind churned with difficulties-what if the hospital took one look at the disheveled black woman claiming medical rights to an unconscious white girl and refused to act? Surely they would do anything necessary to save Julie's life. Had someone from the school gone with her? Her copy of the papers that let her act in Helen's place to make decisions for Julie were back at the condo. She had her wallet with ID and smelled like a pub kitchen. Julie must be so frightened.

  What could it have been? Had the jam on her PB&J not been honest about the contents? Should she make all their jelly in the future? The all-natural cheese puffs hadn't bothered Julie before, but maybe they'd changed a formula without updating the label? That sort of thing happened constantly, which was why she was leery of packaged goods, but Julie liked them and they were one of the few things that made her feel "normal" when she unpacked her lunch.

  No call from Cass. "How much farther?"

  "Two blocks. I take you 'round to ER otherwise very long walk. My boy was here last year."

  "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

  "I hope your daughter is okay. She'll be fine." He pointed at the photo of his kids taped to the dash. "God is good."

  She took it as kindly as it was meant and didn't correct him. She was perfectly aware that Julie was not her daughter and never would be, but she cared for her and loved her for her tenacity and seriousness.

  Her phone chirped-Justin. "Laura, what's up? Someone said Julie went away in an ambulance?"

  He sounded scared. "I'm so sorry. I've been frantic trying to get hold of your mom and pretty scared myself." She tried to calm down for his sake, and she told him what she knew. "Can you get a cab from school? I gather it's not that far for you?"

  "Yes, I can get there-wait, my friend Tim says his ride can bring me there."

  "Good. I truly don't think this is serious, but-"

  "If she needs blood or a lung or something, that's me." He hung up.

  She could kick herself for not having been the one to call him. Some parental stand-in she was. Still no call from Cass.

  The driver wove his way almost by magic to deliver her to the doors of the ER intake. At the ER desk she asked for Julie Browning and boldly lied that she was her aunt. She wasn't going to give them an opening to make her sit and wait in some distant area. The lie got her handed off to someone else who took her through the double doors.

  She didn't like hospitals. She'd been stitched up after bad cuts once or twice, but her real dislike dated from a badly sprained wrist from childhood. They had still lived in Miami and her mother had taken her to an emergency room. She remembered the smells that had burned at her nostrils and someone in pain had been screaming, and that had frightened her. The doctor or nurse or whoever had been the one to tape her wrist had made her feel like a waste of his time. He'd said something to her mother that had made her mother reply, in a subservient tone she'd never heard from her mother before, that of course she had insurance. Of course her daughter was an American.

  She shook off the past-it was hard, her head was spinning-and tried to listen to the nurse. The woman wa
s round and no taller than Laura, and had a nice smile. "I'll tell doctor that you're here."

  She led Laura to a curtained bed in a long, bleak room of about eight similar drawn curtains, checked the chart, then peeked inside. She drew back and looked doubtfully at Laura. "Are you next of kin?"

  "I have the medical power of attorney until her mother arrives."

  "Laura?" Julie's voice sounded thin. "Is that Laura?"

  The nurse decided to take the situation at face value, and she let Laura into the small area.

  Julie's skin was like translucent paper-what wasn't covered with livid, angry hives. She was on a drip of some kind, which surprised Laura.

  "Oh girl." Without hesitation she put her hands lightly on Julie's matted hair, smoothing it from her face. "Baby girl, how are you feeling?"

  "Awful. I itch everywhere and my head is pounding."

  Her phone began to play "Nights on Broadway." Thank goodness. "Your mom, finally."

  "Is she okay?" Helen's voice was like a laser and Laura had to hold the phone away from her ear.

  "I'm with her now, yes, she'll be okay. Uncomfortable-very itchy."

  "What the hell did you feed her?" Helen's voice faded. "No, take me to the train station. We'll sit in the Lincoln Tunnel for hours."

  "Helen, are you there?"

  "How did this happen?"

  "I don't know."

  "I'll be there as soon as-bloody hell! Damn it, I said the train station! Go back!"

  The line went dead. Laura took a deep breath. "Your mom's frantic," she said to Julie, then she realized that Julie had dozed off.

  A doctor tweaked open the curtain and Laura stepped out to speak to him.

  "Why is she sleeping?"

  The Latino doctor wore a resident's tag and looked like he had yet to see thirty. "And you are?"

  She kept her voice brisk and professional. "I'm Laura Izmani, a member of Mrs. Baynor's staff. She's on her way as fast as she can, but I have a power of attorney if you need any instructions."

  He nodded. "There's nothing life threatening going on, though I take it this is the most severe attack she's ever had?"

  "That I'm aware of, yes."

  "Then get her to her specialist ASAP. The next bout could be very, very dangerous."

  "That will happen, I assure you."

  "Good." He quickly reviewed her treatment. "The steroid for her respiration made her wired, and it does tend to make the itching worse, so we gave her a fairly strong sedative, which will also help with her headache. That's why she's dozing. Probably your arrival made her realize she could relax."

  "When her mother arrives, I'll ask for you," Laura told him. He nodded and left the ward, passing Justin in the doorway. Justin was nearly as pale as Julie was.

  "She's okay. Sleeping-peek if you want," Laura told him.

  He settled somewhat after seeing her, but Laura didn't like how pale he was. "Let's find a place to sit and wait for your mom. She's frantic."

  "I bet."

  There was a soda machine in the closest waiting room, and he perked up a little after some root beer. Fortunately, he was recognized by a school administrator who introduced herself to Laura and asked, before taking her leave, that Laura update them if Julie's condition should worsen.

  They sat mostly in silence and Laura told herself it was only natural for Helen to first think this was Laura's fault. She had been mentally scouring over every ingredient she'd handled in the last two days, looking for the culprit, but nothing came to mind. None of the party food was even where it would get to Julie, so it couldn't be that she'd missed anything there.

  Helen had every right to be upset.

  She'd dealt with upset clients before. This was no different. She told herself it was convenience only that had Helen texting Justin with her progress and Justin texting back updates, meager as they were. Her own phone remained silent.

  Justin and she took turns checking on Julie, who continued to sleep. Allergic reactions were exhausting and it was probably best for her to sleep through as much of the itching as she could.

  When Helen finally arrived Laura thought she was braced for the impact, but instead of finding a calm and professional distance she wanted a hug in the worst way, and her arms ached to hold Helen as well.

  "She's this way," was all she managed to say. "She's been asleep all this while."

  Helen opened the curtain and though Laura didn't think most people would see it, she could tell that some of the color had drained out of her lips and cheeks. Her surface expression was only a mask of confident motherhood. Her baby would be fine. Nothing was wrong. Inside, Helen was terrified.

  Julie was still asleep, so in a whisper, Helen asked, "What caused this? What did you miss?"

  "I don't know. I've been over it and over it in my head and I can't think of a thing."

  "You'll have to find out." Helen's whisper was sharp as a whip. "This can't happen again."

  "I'll do my best-"

  "Do better than that. That's what I pay you for."

  Crying will not help this situation, Laura told herself sternly. "I feel terrible about this."

  "Not nearly as bad as she does."

  "Mom."

  Julie's voice spun Helen in place. "Honey, how are you feeling?"

  "It's not Laura's fault. Don't yell at her."

  "I wasn't yelling."

  "Yes you were."

  "It's not important," Laura said.

  "I had a doughnut. With pink frosting. After lunch. I've been so good for so long I thought maybe it wouldn't hurt." Julie wiped away a tear, then sat up in bed and held out her arms.

  Helen scooped her up, hugging her tight.

  Between gulps, Julie managed, "I thought it wouldn't be bad. Maybe I'd itch a little. I upchucked my lunch on the way to English class. It's so embarrassing. Then I don't remember much. It was just one little doughnut. Mom, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

  Helen rocked her. "Oh sweetie, you can't do that, you know that. Please don't do that again. You might have died. What if you'd been alone?"

  "What am I going to do when there's no Laura?" Between sobs, Julie added, "I can't go to college."

  "Sure you can," Justin said. "Hate to tell you but whole bunches of people learn to cook for themselves."

  "Shut up," Julie said, wiping her nose. "How about I live with you and you cook for me then?"

  "Only if you pay me." He made a face at her and Laura thought he was finally looking more like himself. If Julie was well enough to abuse him, then his world was getting back to normal.

  "We can work this out," Helen said. "Your brother's right. It's not fair, but you'll learn to cope. You're smart and independent and you'll manage. Learn to find doughnuts you can eat even if the frosting isn't pink."

  "I itch everywhere. Even the roof of my mouth itches."

  "That sucks." Justin looked at Laura. "Can we make pink frosting with pomegranate juice?"

  "That would end up a bluish frosting. We can get some intense reds with beet juice." With that Laura did the only thing she could think of that would keep anyone else from seeing that she was going to cry.

  She made her way to the nurses' station, asked for the doctor assigned to Julie to please come back and talk to Julie's mother, and then she went to the restroom and sniveled in one of the stalls until she felt more composed.

  By the time she got back to Julie's bedside, Julie was asleep again. Helen was talking to Cass, who broke off the conversation to give Laura a quick hug. "You must have been worried sick too."

  Why couldn't she be in love with Cass? For all her high-strung narcissism, she was fun and very often kind. "I was. I was obsessing about the stupid jelly on her sandwich."

  Helen put her hand on her shoulder. "Laura, I am so sorry. I was worried sick, but that was no reason for me to blame you. Even if it had been something that got by you, I know it would never be lack of diligence on your part."

  "It's okay. I was blaming myself."

  Cass
rolled her eyes at Helen. "Were you a total bitch again?"

  "I don't think I was a total bitch."

  A nurse gave them a warning look and they migrated back to the waiting room.

  "You were being a little bit bitchy, Mom."

  "You hush or I'll think of something you need to be punished for."

  "See?" Justin appealed to Cass.

  "I need to get back to the kitchen," Laura said. "I left everything in disarray and am counting on the kindness of strangers that my food and knives are still there."

  "Let's go with you, at least for a while," Helen suggested unexpectedly. "I have to do something with my hands or I'll freak out completely. Julie will sleep through the night now, they said. Apparently they had to-" She cleared her throat. "At one point in the ambulance they had her on assisted respiration, making her lungs inflate. So they want to keep her for the night. The hives on her face are already better, though."

  Laura nodded, feeling the same flutter of fear that she could see in Helen's eyes. "I can put you all to work, believe me."

  "Is there something to eat there? If I get some dinner, I'm in." Justin looked hopeful.

  "There is a ton of food there. Totally sick stuff."

  "Cooking? You're all going to go cook?" Cass fastened up her trench coat. "I'm out of here. See you Sunday at four or so-but call if something changes here, okay?"

  "Thanks again, Cass."

  "You are my favorite client," Cass said over her shoulder.

  Laura only looked at Helen once in the cab. In its relative darkness she felt as if she didn't have to hold quite so tight to her own control, and it was evidently having the same effect on Helen. The worry in her face was enough to set Laura's heart to aching. She was hurt by Helen's hasty judgment, but had already forgiven it. The chance to shed a few tears in the restroom had helped drain off some of her anxiety.

  Helen, though, was showing signs of cracking. She'd seen her with bedhead and hot flashes, licking food off her fingers, with toothpaste still smeared along one side of her mouth, her slip showing-all the very human aspects of Helen that had separated the star Helen Baynor from the woman who occupied Laura's waking and sleeping mind. But she had never seen Helen with a smile frozen like ice on her lips, and heard her voice twisted tight by short, shallow breaths. She suspected that only Justin's presence was keeping Helen from losing it.