Page 12 of That's Not a Thing

Wesley narrowed his eyes at me, ready to argue, but I wasn’t having it. “Seriously, I’m good,” I told him, as I zipped up my coat. As sorry as I was to cut our date short, I was hardly prepared to drag my flirty new crush out for a hot night cruising the oncology ward. “I don’t even know what’s wrong, and honestly, you’ll just be a distraction that I don’t need right now. I just need to be with my family.” I spoke quickly, with determination.

“Okay, I get it.” He nodded slightly as he threw his bag over his shoulder. “But at least let me put you in a cab.” He took my hand and started pulling me toward the elevator.

I’d like to say I was so focused on my mother that the heat of his hand against mine didn’t send shivers through my body, that I didn’t want to melt into him.

As we hurried toward the elevator, I realized there was some relief to having another person in my corner, that this extra bit of support mattered. I was tired of fighting my father, of putting on a brave face for my mom, of chasing after my brother.

NEARLY AN HOURlater, I was waiting in a fabric-covered chair in the hospital lobby, wondering how much longer it would be before my mother and father arrived from New Jersey. I sat under the harsh fluorescent lighting, pondering how I could at once be totally freaking out and also bored stiff. As I watched people coming and going, I was surprised by how many of the visitors at the hospital looked happy, like they were checking in for restaurant reservations instead of asking the receptionist where their half-dead friends and family members could be found.

My phone vibrated, and I looked down to see a new message.

Wesley: Update me when you know something?

I wondered if he really wanted to hear back or was just being polite. Before I could make up my mind, my dad rushed into the lobby through the automatic glass doors.

“Mer!” He huffed my name in exasperation as he approached me, his weathered features scrunched with tension. “God, I’ve been running circles around this hospital looking for you. Why didn’t you think to go up to Mom’s ward?” There was a bite to his words, like I was just one more hassle.

“Jesus, Dad. Text much?” I held up my phone. “You could have found me right away.”

He stared back at me, silent, waiting for me to fall in line. When I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize for cop-ping the attitude he deserved, he turned away and started walking toward the stairwell in the center of the lobby.

“Come on,” he grumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to her. We came in a different entrance.”

He was speed-walking back toward wherever my mother was, and I found myself wishing that the urgency was out of concern for his wife rather than his own pressing desire to get out of the hospital, out of the marriage, out of the family. Did I mention he was planning to move to LA after my mom recovered? It was as though he couldn’t get far enough away from us.

When we reached my mother’s room, she was already settled in a bed with wires protruding from her arm and a faraway look on her pasty face. Her headscarf was askew, and I could see blue veins running through the side of her bald scalp. She looked so small and frail in the bed. She looked like a dying woman, really, and I had to swallow quickly to prevent the tears that were stirring behind my eyes from spilling forth. A nurse was crouched over her, fiddling with a catheter bag that rested on the floor.

My mother appeared to be sleeping with her eyes open, but as I walked into the room, she spoke. “Honey,” she rasped in a near whisper.

I wanted to surrender to my despair and start bawling, but I forced myself to keep it together. She was struggling enough as it was. I didn’t need to make things worse by breaking down in front of her, letting her worry about me even more than she already was. I forced myself to put on my shallow face, not to acknowledge what I was really feeling, not to let my brain go there. I would act lighthearted and oblivious, because that was the role I so often played in my family, and it would be easier for my mother to view me that way. I wouldn’t show how devastated I was for both of us, for everything we had lost already and everything else we stood to lose.

“Come,” she said, and I saw her fingers twitch against the bedsheet. I knew she was trying to reach out for me and didn’t even have the energy to lift her arm.

“Sweetie.” The nurse caught my attention as she put her large ebony hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait in the hall. Your mom’s getting a transfusion. She’s going to be much better in a couple of hours—you’ll see. Fresh blood is an amazing thing, like blowing up a balloon.” She put a little pressure on my shoulder, pushing me toward the door. “The sooner we get started, though ...”

I nodded and held up a finger, signaling that I just needed one second. I went to my mom and gave her cheek a quick kiss, forcing a whimsical smile onto my face despite the waxiness of her skin, its coolness against my lips.

“See you in a few, Mom.” I tried to sound breezy as I walked out into the hallway, where I then paced in front of the closed door until a blond-haired desk nurse looked up and raised her eyebrows at me.

NEARLY TWO HOURSlater, one of the nurses finally came to the lounge to get my father, who had been busily typing on a tablet for the entire time we’d been waiting.

“She’s all finished,” the older woman said. It was the same one who had gently booted me out of the room earlier. “Come, sweetie.” She turned to me with an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to see how much better she looks already.”

It turned out that the nurse was right. As I followed them into my mother’s room, I saw that she was sitting up in bed and her skin tone had returned to its former hue. She hardly had a healthy glow illuminating her features, but she didn’t look like a rotted onion anymore, either.

“Wow, I wish I could get one of those every day,” she joked, her eyes crinkling slightly. I could see she was still weak, but she at least had the energy to pretend otherwise.

The doctor told my dad they were going to keep Mom overnight for fluids, but the expectation was that she would go home in the morning.

“Can I stay?” I looked over at the pleather recliner in the corner of the room. “I have all my books, and I can finish my work here.”

My parents exchanged some sort of a look with each other, and then my father was telling me no, that the hospital would only let one visitor stay through the night, and it was going to be him.

“Please, Mom.” I turned back toward my mother.

“Your father’s right. It should be him. Otherwise, he’ll just have to drive back here in the morning to get me. You go ahead.”

I didn’t want to exhaust her further by arguing. “Fine,” I huffed, “but make him call me if anything changes.” I gave her a pointed look before picking up my bag.