Sarah smiled as she considered my offer, then asked, “Do you play something?”
“Not anymore. I stunk so bad at the clarinet that Abe renamed me Evvy Badman.”
Sarah thought for a second, then laughed. “I get it. You’re no Benny Goodman.”
I laughed too, glad something amusing had come out of all the squeaks and squawks I’d made on the clarinet. “How about you, Sarah? Do you play anything?”
“I played the violin for a little while—till my teacher said I’d never perform at Carnegie Hall. That’s when my parents decided the lessons cost too much.”
I was glad to know I wasn’t the only daughter who’d disappointed her parents for lacking musical talent.
Sarah shifted in her bed and cleared her throat into a tissue.
“You’ll get letters from friends,” I told her, not wanting to admit I didn’t expect to hear from any girls I knew unless their parents made them write me.
“I don’t really have any friends. I skipped two grades at school,” she said, though not in a bragging way. “Kids call me a know-it-all behind my back.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind being smart. I still don’t know all my state capitals, and I don’t get why you use parentheses in algebra. Don’t they belong in language class?”
Sarah thought I was trying to be funny and laughed. I didn’t mind, since I was used to playing second fiddle to Abe. Plus, I liked Sarah paying attention to me—just me.
“I guess—” A quick, skittery blast of coughs stopped her from saying more.
“Cut the chatter!” This time I recognized Dena’s voice. “Ya don’t wanna make Nurse Gunderson mad.”
Dena was right, but I still gave Sarah my I-hate-the-rules-here look. Sarah pulled the sheet up to her chin, and we both settled down to sleep.
Now the quiet didn’t seem so empty. I’d just had a conversation! A real conversation—a friendly one! Thoughts flip-flopped around inside my head. From Sarah to Abe, to my letters, back to Sarah, then finally on to something else—Dena.
Why had Dena warned us? She never seemed to care before what happened in our room. Was she really worried about upsetting Nurse Gunderson, or just jealous about Sarah being friendly to me? I’d never understand Dena, and I sure wasn’t going to let her ruin my chances of getting to know Sarah.
CHAPTER 14
The Giant
I WOKE UP from my morning rest to Nurse Marshall swooping about our room, diving in close to check on us, then flying off to look down the corridor.
Had something happened?
I heard the usual coughs and wheezes. Everyone looked okay to me.
Then, from somewhere far down the hall, I heard a faint thump. Then another and another, each sounding louder and closer—like a giant stomping toward our room.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
All eyes were now open, all of us listening.
Between the thumps I heard the jangle of wheels rattling—as if the giant pulled a wagon behind him.
Louder and closer.
Louder! Closer!
Then Nurse Marshall pushed our heavy door shut. Thump!
The giant’s wagon rumbled down the hall, past our room.
No one coughed or moved or even breathed.
Then the giant and his noise were gone.
As if a switch had been flipped, doors that had thumped closed now reopened, coughs sputtered back up, Nurse Marshall returned to her tasks—the sanatorium resumed its monotonous routine.
What was that? I wanted to know, but no one said anything.
I looked at Sarah. Her face looked tight and pale. She closed her eyes, turned her head away from me, and seemed to breathe in short, sniffly bursts.
Then Dena, on her way to see Dr. Tollerud for her pneumo, ducked her head in my direction and muttered, “A lunger got carted home this morning.”
I thought for a moment, sorry I was the one who had to explain this to Sarah. I almost wished I could bury the sad truth under layers of Grandmother Brimley’s formal talk. But I couldn’t. The words stirred up inside me. “Sarah, what Dena said about a patient going home—”
“Don’t!” Sarah cried, pressing her hands against her ears. “Don’t say anything, Evvy! I know what happened.”
“But I—”
Nurse Marshall stormed into the room and looked from Sarah to me. “Evil-in, what did you say to her?”
“N-nothing,” I stammered, but it felt like I was holding a bloody dagger in my hand. Why was Sarah so angry at me? What had I done?
Nurse Marshall bent over Sarah. I waited to hear the nurse’s order for Sarah to stop crying. None came.
I turned my back to them both and felt my own pillow grow damp with tears.
CHAPTER 15
Moving Pictures
“YOU AND BEVERLY are scheduled for fluoroscopy in ten minutes,” Nurse Marshall said, her eagle eye aimed directly at me. I didn’t know what fluoroscopy was but hoped it didn’t hurt. “Evil-in, you will go in a wheelchair. Beverly, I trust you are capable of pushing her.”
For some reason, this news irritated Pearl. She glanced at Beverly, then shoved back her tray table and slid down under her blankets.
I’d taken to watching Pearl, who added a touch of drama to everything she did—from brushing her hair with long, sweeping gestures to pointing her toes when she slipped her legs out from under the covers. I wondered if she did all this knowing I was paying attention. But now, under her blankets, she was as quiet and still as Sarah, who seemed uncomfortable even at the sight of me now. The white wall had returned.
Beverly slid out of bed while Nurse Marshall helped me sit up and move to the wheelchair. The room swirled around in my head, then circled back into place, my twitchy hands holding tight to the armrests. I felt a brush of braids against my shoulders and looked to see Beverly behind the chair. Then we were off.
The hallways were noisy and busy. My pulse jumped to keep up with the flurry of activity. Beverly leaned over and said, “It’s a moving picture of your lungs, sort of an X-ray in motion.”
I nodded and pretended to understand but was distracted by a rushing, pounding sound—like faucets being turned on and off full force inside my ears. Was that my own heart beating so loudly? Is that why I needed the flurry, the floro, the fluro—whatever we were off to get?
Beverly soon stopped us outside a tall door. Maybe she could hear my heart pounding, because she put her hands atop my shoulders and patted me gently, rhythmically. For a moment I thought she was Mother, who was always tapping out musical beats to instruct her students. I closed my eyes and let the rhythm soothe me, then realized what Beverly had been trying to tell me about the procedure.
And she was right. The fluoroscopy was just a different sort of X-ray. It didn’t hurt, though I struggled to keep up with the doctor’s commands to move my arm this way or to tilt my head that way, and I felt exhausted by the time it was over.
I was done first, then had to wait with Beverly for her turn. She rested on a bench beside me, calm and quiet, so I was surprised when she tipped her head and said, “She was scared, Evvy. That’s all. Don’t be angry with her.”
I tugged at a loose thread on my robe. “You mean Sarah?”
“Mmm.”
“I’m not angry at her, Beverly.” But even I could hear the lie in my voice. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I feel. She doesn’t like me.”
I twisted the snapped thread between my fingers and waited for Beverly to tell me I was wrong, to make me feel better. Instead she asked, “Do you think I like Pearl and Dena, Evvy?”
I laughed. “How could you? They’re both stinkers—I mean, they fight like cats and dogs all the time.”
Beverly leaned her head forward, then said with a hint of amusement, “They do, don’t they.”
I took her response as encouragement to say more. “You’re always trying to make them get along, and they never do—and they probably never will!”
“True again, Evvy.”
/> I kept going, glad to say aloud what I’d been thinking since I’d arrived three months ago. “And you just pretend to smile, as if that will make things all better.”
I regretted my words as soon as I said them. I hadn’t meant to criticize Beverly. Her smiles—real or fake—were better than Pearl and Dena’s squabbles any day.
Beverly shook her head, the two braids swooshing across her robe. “I’m not pretending, Evvy. We all have our own ways to get by here. Dena and Pearl too.”
“You mean, you like them?”
Beverly nodded, then smiled—this time right at me. “I understand them, Evvy.”
The door to the office opened and the doctor signaled Beverly to come inside for her fluoroscopy. As she stood up, she said, “Try understanding Sarah a little. She may not be as brave as you, but you’re going to need each other—we all do.”
Me? Brave? Why would anyone think that?
But that night, when the others were asleep, I leaned over and whispered in Sarah’s direction, “I cried when I found out too. I bet everybody does.”
A thin voice answered. “But does everybody think they’re going to be the one who’ll die next?”
A cold shiver ran through me. “Probably—any one of us could. But I gotta see Abe again, and you gotta”—I paused, not sure what to say—“and you gotta be a know-it-all scientist or nurse or doctor and make things better for people.”
Sarah seemed to sigh and laugh at once. “Could I maybe see Abe sometime too?”
“As long as you never tell him he helped us. He likes to blow his own horn enough already!”
CHAPTER 16
Out of Breath
“TIME’S UP,” Nurse Marshall instructed before I could think of a PS just for Mother to end my letter.
I folded the paper and placed it in the addressed envelope, lifting it to my lips to seal it shut.
“What are you doing, Evil-in!” Nurse Marshall bellowed. “Have you no sense? Do you want millions of germs to be mailed to your family? Never, ever lick an envelope at Loon Lake.”
My throat tightened as Nurse Marshall snatched the letter out of the envelope, addressed a new one, then pressed the flap against a drop of water poured onto the cleaned bedside table. Why hadn’t I noticed the other girls doing that before?
Little coughs started to hatch one after the next from my mouth. I gulped some milk, but between that going down one way and the air coming up the other, a volcanic coughing fit erupted. I shoved a handful of tissues to my lips, trying to hold the coughs back.
Even with Nurse Marshall glaring down at me, I couldn’t stop. My lungs kept playing tug-of-war with the walls of my chest.
Then something like glue splattered yellow and pink across the tissue in my hand.
“You must breathe, Evil-in,” Nurse Marshall coached, as if I didn’t know that already.
But the coughing got worse. Stars swirled in front of my eyes. I swung my hands up and grabbed at Nurse Marshall. I wanted to scream but had no voice to form the words.
“Do something!” Dena yelled at Nurse Marshall. “She’s turning blue. Can’t ya do something?”
Nurse Marshall pushed me flat against the bed and tilted my head back, then jimmied my mouth open and reached down inside my throat with her curled fingers.
My body twisted, my legs spinning knots into the sheet.
Nurse Marshall bobbed forward, then pulled her glistening hand out of my mouth. A frothy, gurgling gasp seemed to trail behind her slippery fingers.
“Breathe, Evvy. Breathe, breathe,” Sarah said. The others joined the chant.
I found one breath. Then another.
Dr. Keith appeared at Nurse Marshall’s side. He sat me upright in bed and smacked his palm between my shoulder blades as I sucked in more and more air.
He then ordered Nurse Marshall to go clean herself up immediately. She hesitated, but he insisted. “You know yourself that the patient aspirated on some of her own secretions. This was not hemoptysis. Now my concern is for your safety, Nurse Marshall. We cannot risk losing another nurse. I will stay until the patient is resting.”
He turned back to me, checking my eyes with a small flashlight.
As soon as both Nurse Marshall and Dr. Keith had left, Dena translated Dr. Keith’s diagnosis into language the rest of us could understand. “Evvy choked, that’s all. She didn’t throw a ruby. No blood. Just gunk going down the wrong pipe. Could have happened to anybody. Evvy’s okay for now. It wasn’t the big one.”
CHAPTER 17
Flying Away
“WHAT A MUGGY August night,” Nurse Gunderson said as she started around to take our temperatures. “You must all be thirsty.”
“Not for more prune juice,” Dena grumbled.
Nurse Gunderson tipped her head and gave Dena a sly look. “My girls certainly have earned a break from prune juice! When I finish my work, I have a little surprise.”
A surprise! A good surprise at Loon Lake! Sarah and I gave each other puzzled, happy looks as Nurse Gunderson moved from bed to bed in slow motion—or at least that’s how it felt.
At last done with our temperatures, she reached over and, like a magician, lifted a towel from atop the cart. “Ta-da!”
There in front of us rested six bottles of cola. I had not seen that familiar pale green bottle since I’d arrived at Loon Lake. “Wow!”
“I thought a little treat would do us all some good,” Nurse Gunderson said, popping off the caps to open the bottles, the soda bubbles fizzling upward like little fireworks. “I wish I could get you a radio, but Dr. Tollerud—well, it’s just not allowed.”
She stuck a straw into each bottle, then handed the drinks around. I pulled the straw to my lips and took my first sip. The bubbles tickled and teased the whole way down, the satisfying and familiar flavor almost making up for so much prune juice, too much milk, and—the worst—buttermilk. Almost.
Nurse Gunderson took a bottle for herself and sat down in a chair by the window, untying her mask to enjoy the August night air with us. “Let me tell you about the stars I see out your window tonight. Of course, there’s the Big Dipper. But that looks too much like a sputum cup for me.”
We laughed, and she gave us a playful frown to remind us to keep quiet.
“Oh, I can spot Pegasus over there,” she went on, pointing up to the sky. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to fly away on a winged horse like Pegasus?”
I’d never heard a grown-up talk about something as imaginary as flying on a winged horse before.
“You know,” she said, “I have a real horse named Willow back home. I guess it’s not fair for me to call her my horse anymore, since my sisters and brothers take care of her now—like I take care of all of you. But I do wish I could see Willow sometime soon. Maybe Pegasus up there could loan me some wings.”
Our eyes followed hers upward, out the window, then to our own imagined heavens, where we could hold on to Pegasus and ride across the sky—all airborne, all safe, all well, all together.
Then Beverly coughed, and Nurse Gunderson drifted back down from the stars—with us trailing behind her—and settled into our room again.
I’d gotten so used to seeing the nurses wearing their little white masks that I’d almost forgotten how comforting a smile could be.
She placed her empty bottle on the windowsill, then rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The warm night air made us all sleepy.
Sarah and I exchanged lazy smiles, and I put my bottle down and closed my eyes too.
I might have slept straight till morning had I not heard faint whispering from across the room.
“Should I wake Nurse Gunderson?” Pearl asked Dena.
“Nah, let her rest,” Dena answered. “She’s tired.”
“I just don’t want her to get in trouble,” Pearl said.
Dena nodded, and they both got out of bed—Beverly too.
Pearl collected the empty cola bottles and hid them back under the towel on the cart. Beverly crumpl
ed the paper straws in a ball and tucked them beneath a tissue in the paper bag alongside her bed. Dena scooped up the bottle caps, ready to throw them away too, but instead took an envelope, dropped the six caps inside, and tucked the bumpy envelope into her drawer.
Then a sweet peace settled over our room. The next time I woke up, Nurse Gunderson and the cart were both gone.
CHAPTER 18
A Boost
“I HOPE THE BOOSTER will print my poem when I finish it,” said Pearl. “Nurse Gunderson already thinks my title, ‘Our Spirits, Too, Will Soar,’ is perfect!”
“Perfectly sore,” Dena jabbed.
Sarah lifted her head. “I think Evvy should write a poem. She has a way with words.”
I felt my ears tingle. I’d told Sarah how I liked to learn new words, but that didn’t mean I could write poems or stories. Still, it was nice Sarah thought I could.
“Evvy may know a few words to solve crossword puzzles,” Pearl said, wagging her copy of the Loon Lake Booster, “but that’s not the same as having the ability to create poetry! Writing poetry demands maturity of body and spirit.”
Sarah rolled her eyes in my direction, ready to knock the crown off Pearl’s queenly head. Pearl had become even more difficult ever since she’d gotten permission for a day visit with her older brother, Edmund, two months from now in November. I gave Sarah one of my here-we-go-again looks, secretly glad to have something else to share with her.
Pearl reached for a pen and notepad from her bedside table. “I think I’ll use a true love story as inspiration for my poem!”
“Quit blowing on and on about Gone with the Wind, will ya!” Dena said.
“I’m talking about a true love story, Dena. One right from the halls of Loon Lake. Between our own Nurse Gunderson and Dr. Keith!”
Dena glared at Pearl out of the corner of her eye. “You’re full of hooey.”
“I am not!” Pearl whined. “I heard it from one of the older girls yesterday. Dr. Keith is head over heels in love with our Nurse Gunderson. It’s a secret because Dr. Tollerud wouldn’t approve. I just thought you were all too juvenile to know such things. I mean, most of you haven’t even started your monthlies yet …”
Breathing Room Page 4
