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“Something’s wrong, you’re–“
She’s right. Somethingiswrong. That’s the last thing I hear before my vision blurs and my knees give out.
The next thing I know, I’m bobbing in someone’s arms. The left side of my body is sore and I think I hit my head. I open my eyes, but they won’t focus no matter where I look.
“What’s…what happe—”
“Just rest. It’s going to be okay.”
I know that voice. I know the feeling of these arms. But I can’t place it, I’m too…tired, too lost, too disoriented to even know which way is up. I close my eyes again, praying this nightmare will be over when I wake up.
* * *
“Oh, her eyelashes are fluttering.”
“You’re seeing things.”
“I’m not!”
I blink my eyes open to a blurry face leaning over me.
“She’s awake!” The voice belongs to Amy. “I told you her eyelashes–”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” There’s Gillian.
“Okay, girls, just relax, don’t crowd her, alright?” I hear Dad interrupt. He leans over me. My eyes start to focus a bit more and his features sharpen. “Harley? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah…” My voice comes out all muted and strange. I reach up to my mouth. My hand hits a plastic oxygen mask.
Dad touches my wrist softly. “Now, let’s just leave this on until–”
“I want it off,” I say. The warm air is making me feel strangled. I yank the mask down and take a deep breath of…stale hospital air. Maybe I should have left it on. “What happened?”
Dad glances around the room at my sisters and sits on the bed next to me. “You had a little accident, sweetheart. You fainted. But everything is okay and–”
“And your baby is okay too!” Amy squeaks and then slaps her hand over her mouth.
Dad sighs. “Amy…”
“How do you know about–” I sit up too quickly and feel the blood rush to my head.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy.” Dad gestures to Dana. “Help me with the pillows, would you?”
Dana and Dad fluff the limp hospital pillows behind me. “Thanks,” I mutter before eyeing Amy again.
She’s standing almost like a child who has gotten caught sneaking a cookie from the cookie jar.
“Well?”
“I mean, it’s kind of Dad’s fault.”
“Amy,” Dad scolds.
“Dad!” I scold too.
“I…” Dad rubs his hands over his eyes. “I had to tell the doctors that it was something to look out for since I suspected that you might be. I’m sorry, Harley, I was just worried.”
I look up at my dad. The worry is clear in every nook and cranny. The thin line of his mouth, his furrowed brow, the sad corners of his eyes. This man has been put through way too much lately and I’m just making it worse. I’m sure he rushed over here as soon as he heard. But how did he hear? That’s still a mystery.
