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Meg
“Is it hot in here?”I fan myself with Sweet Bakery’s expense report for the month and reach for another sip of my diet soda. My baby sister, Emmi, keeps her head in her phone and her butt perched against my desk as she shakes her head. I make my way over to the thermostat and check it again. When it shows normal temperature, I flick it with my finger. “I swear this thing is broken.”
“I feel fine.” Emmi purses her blackberry lips. Her phone casts a bluish glow on her face. “Hurry up, Megs. I’m starving and there’s a frozen pizza at home screaming my name.”
I brush the sweat from my upper lip and let out a long exhale. “I’m coming.”
Maybe I’ve had too much caffeine? The jittery feeling I normally thrive on seems out of my control. My legs are weaker than normal and I can’t seem to focus. I set down the can of soda and reach into my purse. “Hey.”
Emmi looks up and in the nick of time catches my keys between her boobs and her pinched together elbows. Of course she still holds onto the phone for dear life. “What’s this for?”
“You drive.” Another wave of heat washes over me and for a brief second the room spins.
“Are you okay?” The look of concern on my sister’s face steels my stance. When you’re not the oldest sister, or the youngest, or the prettiest you have to be something. I’m the strongest.
“I’m fine.” I wave my hand through the air. “Let’s scoot, though. I feel like I may be coming down with something. My bed is calling.”
Emmi grabs the back lights and we head out to the parking lot. The crisp night air sends a wave of goosebumps all over my skin. I shiver, but can’t deny it feels like heaven after the blistering heat of the office.
“You look pale, Meggy.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I lick my lips which are suddenly bone dry. “A bug or something I picked up from one of the locals.”
“You live here now, too.” Emmi mutters under her breath. “We all do.”
Under any other circumstances I’d admit that I don’t plan on being here for long. I didn’t get an MFA in financial management just to be holed up in a podunk mountain town for the rest of my life. Beautiful as it is, I miss the whir of traffic and the blunt assertiveness of the people. I came along for the sake of our parents’ dream, but the city is calling me home. Tonight, however, it’s hard to speak. My tongue feels ten tons heavier than normal.
The passenger side handle is within arms reach when my vision blurs. Black spots dance before my eyes. Sweat pours from my hairline.
“Meggy!” Emmi’s harried voice echoes in my ears, almost as if they’re stuffed with cotton balls. My heart races in my chest, it takes me a minute to realize that I’m leaning against my car. Emmi wraps her arm around my shoulder and hoists me up enough that I can bear my own weight.
“Dammit.” I murmur, my words slow and groggy.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I say, though my heart still races like a horse at the Kentucky Derby. “I just need to get home.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Emmi opens my door and helps me inside. “You’re going to the doctor’s office.”
I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to beat any faster. I was wrong. “No. No. No way.”
“You just straight up passed out, Meg.”
“I don’t care.” I rest my head against the back of the seat. “I hate hospitals. I hate doctors. I hate being sick.”
“Everyone hates being sick, but everyone gets sick.” My baby sister schools me before shutting the door on me and hopping into the driver’s seat.
The last place I want to be is in some podunk backwoods doctor’s office. I can only imagine how ill-equipped they are to deal with any medical emergency. Let alone give a proper diagnosis. Hell, I could go in with a simple head cold and leave without legs.
My sense of presence returns in time for Emmi to make a right instead of left out of the back parking lot. “Em, I said take me home and I mean it—.”
“Would you takemehome, Meg? Would Carolyn take me home? Or Winona, for that matter? No. Anyone with any sense would take you straight to the doctor. You work all hours of the day and night, you barely eat anything other than sweets and you drink coffee and diet soda all day.” Emmi casts her hazel-green eyes on me, dad’s eyes. “You could be having a heart attack.”
A little laugh tumbles from my lips before I can stop it. The hurt in my baby sister’s eyes brings my hand to my mouth. “Sorry, honey.” I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “I’m not dying. You said it yourself, I’m just overworked.”
“Well,” Emmi keeps her eyes on the road. “That’s for the doctor to decide.”
