16 Things I Thought Were True

by Janet Gurtler

  He stares at me over the counter. Not blinking.

  “So, I promised her I would talk to you. She’s upset. Maybe you could let her know you’re not going to suspend her or anything.”

  “How do you know what I’m going to do?” Adam glares at me, making no attempt to hide that he’s not happy with me running interference for Amy. I can almost see the pole he has shoved up his butt.

  As he rants about customers and health regulations, my phone chirps, letting me know I have a new text. I pretend to listen to him, but my phone is burning a hole in my pocket. Technically I’m still on a break, so I pull the phone out and check my text while Adam talks on.

  Mom’s in the hospital. It’s serious. Get here as soon as you can.

  chapter two

  “Did you hear what I said?” Adam asks. His eyebrows are arched way up. “Your break is over. Can you please turn off your phone and go back to the gift shop?”

  “I have to go,” I say. My heart thumps hard. My mom’s in the hospital? I spin around and run for the door, clicking Jake’s contact number.

  “Did you talk to him?” Amy whisper-yells as I pass her outside the snack shop.

  “Later,” I holler and keep going, pressing my phone to my ear.

  I race back to the gift shop and grab my backpack from the counter. “Family emergency,” I tell Theresa, who’s been watching the shop during my break. “I have to go.”

  I throw my backpack over my arm and keep running.

  Adam is coming toward me. “I can fire you if you take off in the middle of your shift,” he says.

  “Congratulations,” I call out and dart around families grouped together in clusters. A little girl is crying, and I pat her head as I run by and mumble sympathetic noises but don’t stop. I jump out of the way to avoid an escaped toddler running for his life and bump into the back of a dad holding a screaming girl by her armpits. I press Jake’s contact number again. It goes straight to voice mail. Great. As I’m jogging through the parking lot, Adam yells my name, but I keep moving. The only thing on my mind is getting to the car.

  I try my other brother’s phone, but Josh doesn’t pick up either.

  Something is very wrong.

  “What the hell?” Adam yells, and I turn to see he’s chased me all this way, even though I made it pretty clear I don’t care if he fires me. His legs are frigging long, and clearly I’m no athlete. I reach Josh’s car and jumble around in my backpack for the keys.

  “Is this is about Amy? You can’t just leave, you know.”

  My chest is tight, my breathing fast. “This has nothing to do with Amy.” I’m about to tell him my mom is in the hospital when he interrupts.

  “This is yours?” Adam stares at the restored ’70s muscle car. Cutlass 442. A classic. I only know this because Josh drilled it into my head.

  I unlock the door, ignoring Adam as I slide into the front seat. Adam moves quickly, standing in between the door and the car, so I can’t close it. “Why’re you taking off?” he demands.

  “It’s my mom,” I say, and the tears I’ve been holding in pop out of my eye corners. “She’s in the hospital okay? I have to go. Like NOW.”

  “Oh.” He uncrosses his arms. “Which hospital?” he asks without stepping away.

  “Shoot.” I realize I don’t even know. “I’m an idiot,” I moan and grab my phone to madly text Josh and Jake at the same time. I stare down at the phone, willing one of them to answer right away. “My stupid brothers aren’t answering my texts.”

  “If I drive, you can call hospitals and find her faster. It’ll save time.” He pulls out his phone and types a quick message. “Done. Theresa will cover me and the gift shop. I told her you have an emergency.”

  I want to refuse, but frankly I need the help. I swallow, tempted to tell him no, but this is too serious to worry about my silly pride.

  “Fine,” I say, even though he’s already pulling me out and pushing me around the front of the car to the passenger door. He opens it and shoves me inside.

  “Drive carefully,” I tell him as I do up my seat belt. “This is my brother’s car and he’s very protective of it—and very muscular.”

  Adam’s lip turns up for half a second as he gets behind the wheel and pushes the seat back to accommodate his long legs. Fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror give off a slight scent of pine. I’ve never asked Josh whether they’re ironic, but I hope so.

  “Cool car. I promise to be careful. I’m not big on being beat up.” Adam taps the fuzzy dice so they swing back and forth, and then pulls on the seat belt. “Why don’t you start with the University of Washington Medical Center? Call the emergency line and find out if she’s been admitted there.”

  He sprays gravel as he backs out of the parking lot. I call 411. They connect me to the hospital, but we’re on the highway by the time I press enough buttons to reach a real person on the phone. A few minutes later, I find out my mom isn’t there and hang up.

  “Try the Virginia Mason,” Adam says as he drives past an old farm with cows grazing on grass.

  I wonder how he even knows this stuff but don’t have time to ask. When I reach a person at the Virginia, I find out she’s not there either. As soon as I hang up, Adam gives me the name of another hospital.

  “The Marcede Grace Hospital. It’s small, but closest to Tadita.”

  I get the number as we’re reaching the outskirts of the city. Stretches of grass and farmland change to pavement and will lead to large buildings.

  When I get the hospital on the line, they confirm my mom’s admission but refuse to tell me what’s wrong with her over the phone. I hang up frustrated and close to tears. I have no idea why Mom is in the hospital or how serious her condition is.

  Adam reaches over and pats my leg and then presses his foot to the gas pedal and flies around the turnoff from the freeway. “Hang on,” he says. “Ten minutes tops.”

  I picture my mom when I left for work. She had a package of cigarettes tucked in her bra, like she thought she was a glamorous movie star in an old movie. I squeeze both hands tighter around my phone.

  “Don’t worry,” Adam says. “It’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining.”

  My ears heat up and I look out the window. There’s a sign on the side of the road with a blue H and an arrow. “I hope not,” I say, and my voice sounds funny.

  “We’re almost there,” he says, and he reaches over to pat my knee.

  I stare at his profile as he checks the rearview mirror. A motorcycle roars up from behind us, passing too fast and too close. “Idiot,” he mumbles.

  After a moment of silence, he asks, “Did your parents split up?” He flicks on the turn signal and steers onto another off ramp, and I see the long brown building. It conjures up images of sick people in hospital gowns and doctors running to surgery.

  The question about my parents hangs in the air, but I can’t find words to answer.

  “I assumed because you haven’t said a word about your dad. Or is he dead?” His eyes open wider, and he sneaks a look at me. “God. Sorry. Stupid. I totally suck at bedside manners.”

  I blink at his profile. “Bedside manners?”

  “Yeah. Um. I’m going to be a doctor someday.” His chin lifts slightly, and he grips the steering wheel tighter but keeps his eyes on the road. “I’ve been applying to schools. Premed.”

  “It’s summer,” I remind him and turn my attention to the hospital as we get closer. My knee is bouncing up and down.

  “It’s only summer for a little while,” Adam is saying. “Then senior year.” He sighs. “A big year.”

  “Yeah,” I agree and then, because he’s being nice, add, “I have no idea if my dad is dead.”

  Usually I go for months without discussing my dad, but today he keeps coming up. “I think he was basically a sperm donor. I mean, my mom never wen
t to a sperm bank, and as far as I know, I was conceived the old-fashioned way, but I never met him or anything. He took off before I was born. No interest in me.”

  I sneak a look, and there’s pity in his eyes and I kind of hate it. “It doesn’t matter,” I say louder than necessary, as if adding volume will make the statement more true.

  Adam speeds up to a set of lights, but they turn yellow and he slams his foot on the brake. The hospital is only a few blocks away now. “Yeah. It does,” he says softly. “It matters. That sucks.” I keep my eyes on the hospital, and we sit at the red light, staring ahead, but an invisible tentacle stretches over and wraps around my heart, bonding me to him just a little. “No one deserves to feel abandoned or unloved.” The words reach inside and touch me, and he turns for a second to look at me, and something shifts between us.

  “I’m sure your mom is going to be all right,” he says quietly.

  I nod and then stare out the window, afraid to admit to myself how much this connection means to me. He’s like a full glass of cold water after a hot, muggy walk. I didn’t know boys could be so nice.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” he asks.

  “Twin brothers. Twenty-one. They live at home. My mom still does their laundry and buys their underwear.” I force myself to sound lively.

  “Do you get along with them?”

  I shrug and reach for my backpack. “Better now than when I was little. You’re driving Josh’s car, remember?”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “What about you?” I ask and search inside my backpack until I find my ChapStick and pull it out.

  “One brother. Younger. He’s cool. But if it’s any consolation, my dad is kind of a jerk. For real. Sometimes I’ve wished my parents would split up. It would be easier for me in a lot of ways.” He clears his throat as if he’s embarrassed. The confession touches me. I glance over and his cheeks are red, and he keeps his attention on the lights.

  I apply ChapStick and check my phone. A new follower. Normally that would make me more excited. The lights change and Adam speeds ahead, pulling into the hospital entrance.

  “I’ll drop you off at the emergency entrance and go and park this thing,” Adam tells me.

  I nod, glad he came along. “Thanks,” I manage, but it’s barely above a whisper. I wonder if he knows how much I want to cling to him.

  He smiles at me, as if he understands the things I’m not saying. “When you walk inside, go straight past triage and take a right. Go down that hallway to the end and you’ll find the information desk. They can tell you where your mom is.”

  How does he know this?

  “I’ve volunteered here,” he says. He pulls up to the emergency entrance and stops the car. “What’s your mom’s name? I’ll park and come find you.”

  I grab the door handle, almost reluctant to get out now that we’re here. “Maggie. Maggie MacLean.” I give him a last longing look, wishing he could come with me and keep telling me what to do. My heart races as I hurry into the emergency entrance. I glance around the packed room and automatically pull out my phone to text my brother, but a nurse yells at me to turn it off, pointing to a sign with a picture of a cell phone crossed out.

  I hurry down the hall, find the information booth, and explain to the elderly woman perched on the seat that my mom’s been brought in. She looks her up, tells me she’s on the third floor, and then points me to the elevator.

  When I finally get to my mom’s room, I find my brothers with their heads pressed close together. For the first time in a long time, I see how similar their faces are even though they’re fraternal twins. They look over, and their blue eyes open wider. Their worried expression is identical.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Jake brought her in,” Josh says, and their differences become apparent again. Josh is wearing a coat from some trendy store. Sunglasses are perched on top of his fluffy head of hair. Last November, he grew a mustache for Movember to raise money for cancer, and the fur on his lip seemed to awaken some latent hippy gene. He bought the muscle car in the new year and kept the mustache. He claims the girls love it, and he never seems to be without one on his arm. But that’s been true since he was fifteen.

  Jake is wearing old jeans and a plain T-shirt he probably picked up off the floor that morning. His shoes are plain white Vans but he colored them with Sharpies. He has mad drawing skills and tends to fall deeply in love with one girl at a time. I totally see him married with children running around his feet in a few years.

  “I had to call an ambulance,” Jake says, “since you had Josh’s car.”

  I grab his arm. “What happened?” I repeat.

  “It’s her heart.” Jake scratches his closely shaved head. It’s less a fashion statement and more because he hates hair product. The twins have thick, wavy hair, less curly than mine and much darker. “I got home from lunch with my dad. Josh had a date. Mom was still home.” He glances around at the walls of the hospital. “She was having pains in her chest. She was scared.” He glances at me. “So I called 911.”

  “She was supposed to be at work,” I say and it sounds stupid even as it leaves my mouth.

  “She called in sick.”

  I frown. She never calls in sick. “Will she be okay?” The words tumble out in a rush.

  “I don’t know.” Josh, who is never afraid of anything, who is never at a loss for words, sounds like a scared little boy. “They’re running a bunch of tests. She’s been complaining of being dizzy and short of breath for the past couple of weeks.”

  “She has?” I look around, wondering why she never said anything to me. Aren’t moms supposed to tell their daughters that stuff?

  There are footsteps in the hallway behind us, and I turn and see Adam. He pushes his glasses up his nose, but his shoulders are pushed back. He walks with confidence. For a moment, I can imagine him in the future—in a white doctor’s coat with a stethoscope around his neck, walking the halls, in charge. I blink and he’s a teenager again.

  “He’s obviously with you,” Josh says, following my gaze.

  I frown until I realize Adam’s wearing a Tinkerpark employee shirt. “My boss,” I mumble.

  “How’s your mom?” Adam says as he reaches us, and he stands beside me so we’re in a semicircle in the narrow hospital hallway.

  “It’s her heart,” I say and shake my head. “She’s been dizzy and out of breath.” I’m still trying to make sense of it.

  Adam nods. “Have they done an angiogram?” he asks. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  “To check for blockage,” he adds.

  “Not yet,” Jake answers. “They did a CT scan but didn’t find anything. They’re setting up an angio as soon as they can get her in.” I stare at Jake, a little surprised. He seems to be taking charge, and it’s not the usual role for him. He scratches his chin and looks Adam in the eye. They’re the same height. “Her blood pressure is through the roof,” Jake tells Adam. “So they’re going to keep her here.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Jake.”

  I feel like my brother has become someone I don’t even know anymore. Jake isn’t a guy who talks so freely to people he doesn’t know—and he doesn’t give out personal information.

  Adam shakes his hand. “Adam Ranard.” He turns to Josh and shakes his hand too, but Josh doesn’t introduce himself. I wonder if my brothers switched bodies.

  “If they find a blockage, she’ll need a stent. They’ll do it during the angiogram,” Adam says.

  We all stare at him.

  He lifts his shoulder. “I want to be a doctor. This stuff interests me.” He hands me the car keys and a ticket stub. “I parked in the east lot. Level four. Near the exit.”

  Josh reaches over and removes the keys from my hand. “You let this dude drive my car?”

  “He drove so I could try and figure out whic
h hospital Mom was in. Jake didn’t leave that info, and I couldn’t reach either of you.” I glare at both brothers.

  “Sorry, Chaps. I was kind of distracted,” Jake says. He calls me Chaps because of my addiction to cherry ChapStick. I have spare tubes tucked away everywhere.

  Adam clears his throat and stands taller. “I drove your car carefully and parked it on an angle so no one can park close on either side.”

  Josh looks him in the eye for a moment and then nods. “Okay. Thanks. Sorry. I’m a little freaked out here. Thanks for bringing Morgan.”

  Adam nods. “That car is sweet,” he adds, and in spite of what’s happening, I find it kind of funny that he cares about Josh’s opinion so soon after meeting him. Even with his loopy ’70s vibe, Josh has that effect on people.

  “You want me to stay?” Adam asks me.

  I shake my head, ignoring the way Jake looks, as if he wants him to. Adam walks to the nurse station down the hall to ask a nurse in pink scrubs sitting in a chair behind the desk some questions. When he returns to where we’re silently huddled, he smiles. He tells us a few reassuring facts about heart disease and women, but we’re all too freaked out to answer.

  “Give me your phone,” he says to me. I look at my brothers, but they step away from us, mumbling, and walk down the hallway so they’re out of hearing range.

  Adam holds out his hand. I dig into my pocket and hand the phone over. He punches his number into my contacts and hands it back.

  He glances at his watch. “My dad said he’d pick me up on the way home from work and he’ll be here soon,” he says. “Call if you need anything. Or if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “But I’m okay now.”

  He looks as me as if he knows I’m lying. He takes my shoulders and pulls me into his space. The hug is completely unexpected. I smush against him, and his fingers press on the small of my back. I hold my hands awkwardly up, unsure where to put them.

  After a split second, I’m able to relax. I rest my head on his shoulder. We stand there and it feels so good until, all of a sudden, he steps back. I stare into his eyes and he stares back, holding my arm. I notice his long black eyelashes. He should wear contacts. Almost as if Adam can sense me thinking about how pretty his eyes are, he clears his throat and looks away. My cheeks burn.