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“I know, I know,” I quickly said as I jumped into the driver’s seat again. “I just think that we should. I don’t—I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“No…” her voice trailed off as she started to sob, and as much as it broke my heart, all I could think of was appendicitis. I had gone through it when I was younger—not quite as young as she was, though. I whipped the car out of the parking lot and headed toward the Sans Verta hospital, pulling out my phone.
I stared at a missed call from Gunner, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually call him about it. I exited out of it and went to my mom’s contact, calling her up.
“Hey, Hal,” Mom greeted me with a bright voice. “Did you get Iris dropped off for school?”
“No,” I said in a rushed tone. “I’m actually heading to the ER with her. I knew something was off this morning, because she was running so late—and then she’s complaining of abdominal pains. She looks terrible.”
“Oh no! Do you want me to meet you there?”
“Um…” I hesitated. “I don’t know. It might not be anything.”
“Or it might be appendicitis. You weren’t much older than Iris when you had that happen. I thought you were dying.”
“You know she’s not like that,” I said through gritted teeth as I thought of the way Gunner was. She had gotten that from her father—and neither of them knew it.
“I know, but I’ll just meet you there, anyway.”
“Okay.”
“Mom, hurry up,” Iris groaned from the backseat. “I think I might throw up.”
Oh no, fuck!
“Hang on,” I said to my mom, dropping the phone to my lap as I reached around the seat for a plastic trash bag I kept in the seat pocket. One hand on the wheel, I managed to grab it with my fingertips, handing it over to Iris. “If you have to throw up, do it in the sack.”
“That’s so gross,” she whined as she opened the bag up.
“Well, it’s better than throwing up all over yourself,” I gave her a soft smile, relieved when she giggled at the joke. I picked up the phone and put it back to my ear. “Sorry, she thought she might throw up, and I had to get her a bag.”
“My poor baby,” Mom said in a sad tone. “How close are you?”
“Pulling in right now.” I parked the car just out front of the small hospital, threw it into park, and turned it off. “Call me when you get here.” I hung up before she could say anything and shoved the phone into my pocket.
Iris was already unbuckling and climbing out of the car by the time I got out myself. “I can walk,” she held up a hand at me as I slung my purse over my shoulder. “I don’t need you to carry me.”
“Okay.” I did my best to hide the worry as I followed my hunched over little girl into the ER. I glanced down at my tennis shoes, noticing that one of my laces was untied, but I didn’t stop to tie it.
Thankfully, the waiting room was empty, and the receptionist, an older woman with thick-rimmed glasses, looked up at Iris with deep concern. “What can I help you with?”
“She’s having abdominal pain,” I said quickly, digging out my insurance card and driver’s license.
“Let me grab a nurse. You can fill out all the paperwork once you make it to a room.” The rush made my own stomach flip, worried if she was seeing something I was missing.
“Mom,” Iris whined, grabbing my hand and leaning into my side. “I hate the doctor.”
“It’s okay,” I wrapped my arm around her, purposefully gentle as to not cause her any more discomfort. “We’re gonna get you back to see someone.” As the words left my mouth, a middle-aged nurse stepped through the double doors, waving us to follow her.
“I’m Karen,” she introduced herself, giving Iris a smile. “I’m going to help you get comfortable so we can run some tests, okay?”
“Okay,” Iris cried, tightening her grip on my blouse. It was casual day at work, which I had to inform I was running late, but I was more thankful than ever that I wasn’t in heels like usual.
“So your stomach has been hurting?” Karen asked Iris as we stepped into the hospital room. “Can you tell me what that feels like?” She continued her questions as she started taking vitals from Iris.
I stood there, anxiously awaiting the results, giving Iris a supportive smile.
“Her temperature is elevated, but not a full-blown fever,” Karen remarked as she glanced down at the forehead thermometer. “Heartrate is a little elevated, too, but that’s probably the pain.”
