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After Zeke left, the house seemed empty and quiet. Jeremy was fussier than normal, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Having some money now—Zeke had left a thousand dollars in cash on the kitchen counter—made everything feel different. From what Aunt Meg said, all the bills were paid, including the huge hospital bill we’d been making payments on. We’d have a new roof in a few weeks, the pantry was stocked, Jeremy had enough diapers and wipes to last until he was potty trained, and there was meat in the freezer.
I was still struggling with a plethora of emotions related to my situation with Zeke, but anyone who said money didn’t buy happiness had obviously never been dirt poor. I felt lighter in general, and at work, the normal dread that always filled my chest loosened a little. It was easier to laugh with my co-workers, and I even stayed after one night to have a few drinks, something I’d never been able to do before.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, having Zeke back in my life made things easier. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to trust him, but Aunt Meg was right that hanging on to the hurt and anger didn’t impact anyone but me. I had to find a way to get past it, no matter how difficult it was. It wouldn’t just be better for me, but it had to be better for Jeremy in the long run. I didn’t want him to grow up seeing his parents at odds every time they were in the same room together.
I was still mulling things over in my mind when I got home from work late on Saturday night. I’d closed, so it was after two, and I was hoping Jeremy would let me get some sleep since I had to work again tomorrow night. Well, technically, tonight, since it was already tomorrow.
I’d just gotten the key in the front door when I heard Jeremy screaming.
Boy, he was really in a mood.
Poor Aunt Meg.
I was chuckling to myself as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“Rough night, huh?” I called out.
There was no answer and I frowned as I stepped into the room. Jeremy was in his rolling bassinet, arms flailing as he cried.
“Hey, buddy, where’s your Auntie?” I looked around, suddenly worried. Aunt Meg would have never let him cry like this if she could help it.
Oh no.
Dread filled me as I considered the fact that she could have fallen again.
“Meg! Aunt Meg!” There was no answer and I rushed into the kitchen, holding Jeremy against my chest as I simultaneously tried to soothe him.
She was on the floor, sitting at an awkward angle with her back against the cabinets, as if she’d slid down.
“Oh, god.” I dropped to my knees, using one hand to find a pulse.
“Heart,” she whispered, her eyes barely opening.
“Fuck.” I yanked my phone out of my back pocket and called 9-1-1, all the while talking to her, trying to keep her awake.
“Baby okay?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“He’s fine,” I said, trying to quell the panic that was starting to overwhelm me. I didn’t know what to do. Aspirin? Something else? The 9-1-1 dispatcher said help was on the way, but it seemed like it was taking forever.
“I’m going to make him a bottle,” I told her. “Help is coming.”
She nodded and I quickly made two bottles, thinking ahead to accompanying her to the hospital. There was no way I was letting Meg go alone, and obviously I wasn’t able to leave Jeremy at home.
“You okay, Auntie?” I asked her as I grabbed Jeremy’s diaper bag from the counter.
She didn’t respond and I knelt beside her again. “Please, Meg. You’re all I have. Don’t give up.”
“I’m not.” Her voice was barely discernible but at least she was conscious and lucid.
I jumped at the knock on the door, running to answer it.
Then there was chaos as paramedics came in, assessing Aunt Meg, getting her on a stretcher and asking me a million questions I didn’t have the answers to.
“What hospital are you taking her to?” I asked.
They gave me the information and I finished packing Jeremy’s bag on autopilot. Diapers, wipes, the extra bottle, a change of clothes, a couple of toys to keep him occupied in case we were there a long time.
Please, please, please, I thought to myself. Don’t let it be something bad.
