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“Go on, now,” I heard my mom say. “You’re upsetting your sister.”
The light switch flipped off, and I got what I wanted.
Darkness and solitude.
It was better to be alone — especially if I couldn’t be with the person I loved.
* * *
The weeks stretched to months. There was still no word from Mikhail.
I didn’t have to pretend to be sick in bed anymore. I really was sick. Everything hurt and felt wrong. I couldn’t keep food down. I didn’t understand what was happening, except that I was so sad and ill all the time that it felt like my life was ending.
“Sadie, this is becoming too much,” my mom said, her shape just a dark outline against the brightness of the open door as she attempted to get through to me. “I know you’re upset and not feeling well, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Come on. Get up. Let’s get you outside for a walk. Some fresh air would help your stomach.”
Moving would upset my stomach. The light upset my stomach. Everything was bad.
“When was the last time you even ate?”
Food? Just the thought of it roiled my stomach, and I gagged weakly.
“Sadie!” My mom rushed toward me. “What in the world is wrong?”
Jonathan was by my side in an instant too. I didn’t even know that he was home. “What’s happening?” he demanded.
“Sadie, say something!” my mom urged.
“I don’t feel good,” I croaked, and my stomach tried to heave again.
“She needs to go to the hospital,” my mom said. “Jon, can you lift her?”
I was already in his arms. “She doesn’t weigh anything,” he said, punctuating the statement with a curse as he strode out the door. I tried to hang on around his neck, but I was just too weak. All I could do was clutch the front of his shirt. “Are you sure about the emergency room, Mom? What if we go to the clinic instead?”
I hadn’t seen my mom run in years. Not since we were kids. But there she was, dashing out in front of us to start the car, which sputtered on almost miraculously at the first try.
“Hospital’s closer,” she said. “And I don’t like the looks of her. She’s gray. Come on. Get in.”
Jonathan didn’t bother sitting me in my own seat. He just folded the two of us together into the front seat and closed the door behind us, me on his lap. The car lurched forward and I hid my face against his chest. The motion, like everything else, sickened me.
“Puke on me and you’re dead — I don’t care what’s wrong with you,” he muttered, but it was less of a warning and more a worried joke than anything. I couldn’t remember the last time the two of us had been so close. Probably when we were both inside my mom at the same time. Once we’d been born, it was like we tried to carve out our own space in the world by pushing each other away.
I must’ve drifted off on the drive, because when I next opened my eyes, I was lying down in a gurney, a nurse peering down at me while eviscerating my pajamas with a pair of scissors.
“Wait,” I croaked. “Wait.”
“It’s okay,” the nurse said, shushing me. “You’re okay.”
“My pajamas,” I complained, but there was nothing I could do. They cut the clothes off of me with frightening efficiency, like sheering a sheep of its wool. I was in a hospital gown before I could track what was happening. They were either that fast, or I was that out of it.
I closed my eyes, shying away from the needle as the nurse inserted an IV. “She’s dehydrated,” someone said. “We’re going to need to do some tests.”
“I don’t like the look of that distending,” someone else added, pressing my belly, and that’s all I could keep track of, slipping back into blissful nothingness.
* * *
I blinked awake, my mom clutching my hand, as the curtain swooshed open on its rod. Oh, no. How long had I been asleep? Was I really in the ER? This was going to cost a fortune.
My brother stopped in the middle of his pacing to stare down the doctor who had entered. “Well? Anything yet? Or are there another dozen tests you’re going to order before we have answers?”
