by Kelly Risser
***
I wanted to ask David more about Selkie powers, but he managed to evade me all week. Either Mom would be in the room, or I’d look for him once she went to bed and he’d be gone. I thought for sure that I could catch him on Saturday.
“Where’s David?” I asked my mom. She was sitting on the couch with a magazine in her lap. Her coffee cup steamed beside her on the table.
“Your dad,” she said, stressing the word ‘dad,’ “had a business trip. He’ll be back tomorrow night.”
She was getting tired of me calling him by his first name. I was trying to get comfortable with saying dad. Sometimes it felt okay, other times, just weird.
“Oh.” I tried to cover my disappointment that I lost another opportunity to talk to him. Was he gone on Selkie business?
I flopped down next to her and asked, “What are we doing today?” It had been a while since we had hung out alone.
“Your grandparents invited us over for dinner,” Mom said.
“Really?” I hadn’t see Grandma and Grandpa since my birthday. After living with them for over half a year, I missed them. I missed my grandmother’s cooking, too.
“We’ll head over around four,” Mom said. “I’m just going to do some housework and laundry in the meantime.”
“Do you need help?”
“No. I’m fine, honey.”
“Mom, are you sure? I can help.” She looked pale. Had she started losing weight again?
She sighed. “Okay, Meara. Can you take care of the kitchen and bathroom? I’ll start the laundry.”
I kissed her cheek. “Sure, Mom. No problem.”
It took about an hour to finish my chores. When I found my mom, she was folding towels. “Anything else?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I can finish this. Thanks for your help.”
“Okay, then I’ll get my homework done, I guess,” I didn’t want to do it, but it was better to get it out of the way.
“How’s Evan doing?” Mom frowned at me. “You haven’t said much about him lately.”
“He’s good. He’s been, uh, busy. Big project,” I lied. I hadn’t told my parents about our fight. The truth was that I barely spoke to Evan all week. I texted him after lunch on Monday and told him that Katie thought it was drugs. I forwarded Val’s picture to him, too. His replies were curt, but at least he replied. I was trying to give him space, but I was getting worried.
I hugged Mom before I went to my room, pulled out my backpack, and threw it on my bed, spreading the contents. I had a paper due on Wednesday and a Calculus test on Thursday. Neither prospect interested me, but I decided to tackle the paper first. I threw on some music, fired up my laptop, and started writing.
My stomach rumbled, and I was surprised to see that it was after three. Why didn’t Mom come and get me? I saved my file, pleased that I only had the summary left to write. Walking down the hall, I heard the drying running, but the rest of the house was quiet.
“Mom?” I checked her bedroom first. The light was on, but she wasn’t in it. I walked through the living room and peeked in the kitchen. Nope. Empty.
The basement door was ajar. She had to be folding clothes downstairs. I called down the steps, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she couldn’t hear me over the tumbling of the dryer. It was kind of loud. I started down the steps. When I got halfway, I could see my mom’s feet. That wasn’t right. Why was she laying on the basement floor?
“Mom!” I took the rest of the steps as quick as I could. She was ghostly pale. I shook her shoulder gently, calling her name. She didn’t respond. Frightened, I lifted her wrist and felt for a pulse. Thank God, it was there. Weak, but there.
I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket and called 911.
I wiped at my tears, and my hands shook. Could I move her? I didn’t like that she was lying on the cold cement. The basket of folded towels sat nearby. I grabbed a few and covered her. I left her head alone. If she was injured, I didn’t want to make it worse. I couldn’t see blood, but she was freezing to the touch. Who knew how long she was on the basement floor before I found her?
I sat next to her and held her hand while I called my grandparents. My grandma answered, and the words tumbled out. I couldn’t disguise how frantic I was.
“Do you need us to come and get you?” she asked.
I shook my head before I realized she couldn’t see me. “No, I’ll ride in the ambulance.”
“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” The line disconnected. I texted Evan and asked him to tell his parents. That left my father, and I had no way to reach him. He didn’t have a cell phone, and I had no idea where he went.
“Ula,” I said, “if you can hear me, tell David my mom’s unconscious. We’re going to the hospital.”
Her voice came back, clear but faint. “I’ll tell him. Take care of her.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I had a connection with Ula, and not David, but I was grateful for it.
I rocked a bit as I sat by Mom’s side, listening for the siren. Please be okay. Please be okay. The chant rattled through my head. When I finally heard the siren, I raced up the stairs to let them in and lead them down to Mom. They prepped her, checked her vitals, and loaded her onto the stretcher.
I went to find her purse, then decided to grab my purse and both our coats as well. She wouldn’t need hers now, but she’d need it once she was released.
I sat in the back corner of the ambulance, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Mom’s breathing was shallow and irregular. Her pulse, I learned, was super low. They were worried about a concussion. From what they could tell, she fell from a standing position and hit her head on the cement. The dryer was running, so she couldn’t have been there too long before I found her. Thank God I found her when I did.
When we got to the hospital, they took her back right away. I knew from the last time that I couldn’t go with her. I went to Admissions in the emergency room. The woman behind the desk raised kind eyes to me. Her nametag read Nancy. I explained that my mother had just been admitted by ambulance. She asked for my mom’s identification and insurance information. On the ride over, I had already found it all in Mom’s purse. I gave it to Nancy. Once she had all the information she needed, I walked over to the waiting area and sunk into a chair.
Grandpa must have floored his truck, because ten minutes later, my grandparents bustled into the lobby. I stood up, and Grandma pulled me into one of her big hugs. Her shirt was slightly damp, but she was warm and soft. I hugged her back, putting my head on her shoulder. She patted my back gently, and then stepped back, holding out a package.
“I brought you something to eat,” she said. “I’m sure that you are famished, and this hospital food is just horrendous.”
“It’s not that bad, Mary,” Grandpa said. He hugged me next. Not quite as exuberant as Grandma’s hug, but it was nice. “How are you holding up, kiddo?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “It was just such a shock. I mean, Mom’s been doing much better, but she did look pale this morning…”
I trailed off as my voice cracked. “If I hadn’t been so focused on my paper, maybe I would have known something was up sooner. I just can’t get over seeing my mom lying cold and pale on the basement floor.”
“Shhh…” Grandma soothed. “Don’t blame yourself. You did everything you could, and she’s in the best of hands now.” She patted my knee and nudged the container closer to me. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
I opened the lid. It was chicken and dumplings, the dish she made the first night we were here. My throat constricted again. So much had changed, and yet, Mom was still sick.
“Jamie,” Grandma said, “why don’t you get Meara something to drink.”
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Nonsense!” Grandma waved her hand at me. “You can’t eat without something to wash it down with. Maybe they even have milk in that god-awful cafeteria.”
“You want me to walk over to the ca
feteria?” Grandpa asked. Grandma gave him a look. His shoulders slumped, but he walked off without another word.
I tried to eat slowly, but I was starving. I finished before my grandfather returned. I hated milk, but I resigned myself to drinking whatever it was he brought me. The cafeteria was on the other side of the hospital. I was touched that he went there to get me something, even if my grandmother strong-armed him into it.
She brushed a few hairs off my forehead. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said. “It was good.”
She smiled at me before picking up a magazine off the side table and flipping through it. Apparently, it didn’t interest her, because she snapped it closed and offered it to me.
“No thanks, Grandma.” It was Reader’s Digest. I hated that magazine. Why couldn’t they have teen magazines in hospitals? I didn’t think to bring along a book, either.
The minutes turned into hours. There was no news on Mom, and it was after nine. I knew my grandparents were tired and worried. So was I. David hadn’t arrived yet either. Lydia called, but I had nothing to tell her. I promised to call when we knew something.
“Meara!” Evan crossed the lobby and pulled me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured into my hair. “Did you hear anything yet?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing.”
“I came as soon as I could.” He looked around the waiting area. “Where are your grandparents?”
“They went to get some coffee,” I said. “Did you go by the apartment?”
“Yeah.” Evan shook his head. “It was dark. He’s not home yet. I left a note on the door to call when he got back.”
“Okay,” I said. “I guess that’s all we can do. I don’t know why he doesn’t have a cell phone.”
Evan was about to respond, but I grabbed his forearm and he stopped. Dr. Riley had just walked into the waiting area and was heading our way.
“Meara.” Dr. Riley stopped in front of me. I was impressed that he remembered my name. He looked tired, and although he tried to smile, it came off as more of a grimace.
“How’s my mom?” I asked. Dr. Riley looked at Evan, so I added, “This is my boyfriend, Evan Mitchell.” When he hesitated, I said. “It’s okay to talk in front of him.”
“Is anyone else here with you?” Dr. Riley asked, and I felt my stomach tighten. If everything were okay, he would have said so.
“My grandparents are here,” I said slowly. “They’re in the cafeteria right now.”
“And your father?” Dr. Riley asked.
“He’s on a business trip,” I said. “We haven’t been able to reach him. Please, Dr. Riley, how is my mom?”
Dr. Riley sighed. “She’s resting right now. I’d prefer to speak to all of you together. Would you like to go and get your grandparents, or would you like me to have them paged?”
Evan squeezed my hand. “I’ll go. You can stay here.”
I watched Evan walk away, and I didn’t know what to do. Something was wrong. Doctors didn’t wait to give you good news.
Dr. Riley cleared his throat. “I’m going to check on your mom, and I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”
I nodded before sinking into the chair. Where the hell was my dad? How was I going to find him? Silently, I pleaded, Please, Dad, if you can hear me, come to the hospital. Please. Hurry. If Ula hadn’t reached him, I didn’t think he would get my message, but I didn’t know what else to do.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the poster that gave disease prevention tips. When I heard David’s voice, I turned around to see him crossing the room to me.
“Meara, what’s going on? Where’s your mom?”
“Well,” I started. That was as far as I got before the dam broke and the worry, guilt, and sadness came pouring out. I tried to continue through my tears, “S-she collapsed…and…the a-ambulance…and…”
David pulled me into his arms and patted my back. “Calm down, Meara,” he crooned. “I can’t understand you, honey.”
I tried to stop crying, but I only cried harder. Luckily, Evan returned with my grandparents, and the three of them took turns filling David in on what happened.
As promised, Dr. Riley returned within ten minutes. “Are you Mr. Quinn?” he asked.
“Yes, but you can call me David.”
“David.” Dr. Riley shook my dad’s hand before he motioned to all of us. “Please come to my office.”
We followed him through the side doors and down the hallway. His office was bright and organized. Besides his diplomas and certifications, the walls were covered with beautiful nature scenes. A brown leather couch ran the length of one wall, and two cushioned chairs faced his desk.
“Please have a seat,” he said. David took one of the chairs near the desk, and I sat next to him. Evan sat with my grandparents on the couch. Dr. Riley waited for us all to be settled before he began. “Sharon is stable, but she suffered an internal hemorrhage. We’ve stopped the bleeding.”
“So, she’s okay.” Relief flooded through me, until I noticed Dr. Riley was frowning.
“She lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion.”
“Is she in pain?” My father looked ready to bolt to find her.
Dr. Riley shook his head. “We gave her a sedative. She’s resting peacefully now.”
David relaxed back into the chair, but Dr. Riley leaned forward. “The cancer has spread throughout her abdomen. Although we stopped the bleeding, there’s a good chance it will start again. The prognosis does not look good.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Dr. Riley looked at me. I shrank back from the concern in his eyes. I didn’t want his sympathy.
“Your mother needs hospice,” he said. “We can ensure that she is comfortable, and that her pain is manageable.”
“Hospice care?” I asked. “I don’t understand.” Wasn’t hospice care for the elderly and terminally ill? My grandmother sobbed behind me. Hands rested on my shoulders, and I looked up into Evan’s eyes. I reached for one of his hands, and he covered mine with his.
“Can she come home?” my dad asked. His voice broke when he said home. He reached over and squeezed my other hand, but continued to look at Dr. Riley.
“We can certainly arrange for care in your home,” Dr. Riley said. “It will take a few days, of course, for equipment and staffing.”
Equipment? Staffing? “When will she get better?”
Dr. Riley frowned, and this time I clearly saw pity in his eyes. “She won’t,” he said, not unkindly. “The cancer has progressed too far. We’ve done all we can do. Our goal now is to make her comfortable.”
No! I screamed in my head, as my dad asked, “How long does she have?”
Dr. Riley shook his head. “I can’t say. It’s different with each patient.”
“An estimate, then,” he insisted.
Dr. Riley took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Finally, he said, “Anywhere from two weeks to six months, I would guess.”
