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"Explain to me right damn now. What do you mean, my daughter passed out?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that one minute she got up to the podium to answer the question and then she fainted.”
“Oh my God. Oh myfreakingGod. Did you call the ambulance? Is she breathing?”
“Yes. They’re on their way. And yes, she’s breathing, but she’s just not waking up.” I could hear the panic echoing in Sasha’s voice. “We’re in the infirmary right now. They don’t think she hit her head.”
“Calm down, Sasha, just calm down, okay? Just make sure she’s still breathing and stay on the phone.”
“Okay.” Sasha, says, taking a deep breath. “Alright.”
I focus all my nervous energy on driving, but horrified possibilities are bouncing through my brain. What’s going on? Poison? Did she eat something she wasn’t supposed to? An allergy I don’t know about? Did someone hurt my baby?
Oh God, please no.I haven’t been the prayerful type for some time now, but I do it today, channeling every single religious bone inside me.Please, God, you can take everything else from me, but not my daughter. Not my baby.
I hope this time someone listens.
I arrive at Mimi’s school in time to see a paramedic carrying my limp daughter’s body into an ambulance. I jump out of the car dashing to them.
“What’s wrong with her?” My voice sounds hysteric. “What’s wrong with my baby?”
The blue-eyed paramedic glances at me. "You’re the mom?”
“Yes,” I respond at the same time I spot Sasha talking to the school nurse. “What’s happening?”
“We’re not sure. Might be an allergic reaction. We’re taking her to the hospital to make sure.”
“Okay, I’m coming with you." I climb into the back of the vehicle and hold my daughter’s hand as they slip on an oxygen mask, praying to see her beautiful eyelashes flutter open again. Praying she's okay.
We drive on the highway for what feels like forever and my anxiety climbs with each mile. When the hospital comes up in the distance, relief flushes through me.
At that point, my phone rings. At first, I don’t answer, too distracted, but the second time it rings, one of the paramedics looks at me pointedly.
“What the fuck is going on?” It's Maddox and he sounds pissed.
Suddenly, I remember the meeting. The client. I completely forgot.
“Nixon says you walked out in the middle of the meeting.”
“Yes I—” How do I even explain this? “I’m so sorry. Something came up, I had to go to the hospital.”
“Are you alright?”
“I just… I’m so sorry. I should have let you know first—"
“I asked you, are you okay?” he still sounds pissed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“What hospital are you going to?”
“What hospital? I’m…”
"The ambulance is going to Mercy General," the paramedic volunteers helpfully.
"You're in an ambulance?" Maddox says.
"Um... yes, but it's not what it looks—"
