Send Me a Sign

by Tiffany Schmidt

  “Just fluids. They’re going to disconnect me for the night after this bag. My fever’s down and I stopped puking.”

  “Not puking’s good,” he answered.

  “You sure you don’t mind babysitting me? I’d hate to interrupt.” I looked at Meagan and held out my hand to him.

  He took it. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s been such a—”

  “Your hair?” Meagan asked in surprise when her adoring horde had subsided.

  “A wig,” I pointed to the foam head on the windowsill.

  “It’s a good one; I didn’t know.” For someone who had seen this before, Meagan was edgy and twitchy. She stood awkwardly at the end of my bed and avoided looking at the IV tubes sprouting from my chest. The whole benefit of her friendship was supposed to be that she’d been through this before, yet she was the visitor who made me feel the most uncomfortable.

  I tried small talk. “I can’t believe Business Nurse hugged you. I’ve never even gotten a smile out of her.”

  “Who?” Meagan stared blankly at the wall above my head.

  “Denise,” Gyver translated.

  “Oh,” was her insightful response.

  “Where are your parents?” Gyver asked.

  “Probably at dinner.”

  Meagan surveyed the room, her gaze lingering on the door. She was twisting her hands in her lap, miming the process of lathering.

  “I’ll try and refrain from kidnapping you while they’re gone.” Gyver smiled and I felt some of my chaos dissolve.

  “We’d have plenty of time to make a getaway. They’re staying home tonight.”

  “They’re not staying with you?” Meagan was appalled.

  “Mom doesn’t sleep well, then I don’t sleep. And she had a major meltdown today.” Gyver met my eyes with a knowing gaze and squeezed my knee through the blanket. I opened my mouth to confess the awful things I’d said—

  “What about your dad?”

  “He snores,” Gyver and I answered simultaneously.

  Meagan shook her head and began to twist her hands again. “I can’t believe you want to be alone here.”

  “I’m never alone. Don’t you remember? There’s someone coming in every ten minutes.” I laughed, but she didn’t. I looked to Gyver, but he was also watching Meagan, concern cutting into the line of his jaw.

  She chewed her lip, then said in a rush, “I’m sorry, Mia. I can’t do this. I can’t be here.” Meagan was out the door before I could respond.

  “What was that about?” I asked Gyver. A part of me, a small, guilty part, was glad to have him to myself.

  Gyver tipped his head toward me, his eyebrows converging in a frown. “It’s probably too familiar. Bad memories.”

  “Her brother.” Realization began to gnaw at my insides. “You said Max had leukemia and I didn’t need to worry. Did he …” I swallowed the last word.

  “Yeah. He died.”

  “But you said …” I gagged on my guilt, shame, and blame. Terror.

  “Mi, how could I tell you? It was a different kind. A worse kind. He had transplants. Radiation.” Gyver’s eyes and voice were desperate, but I was too furious to care.

  “You lied to me!”

  “I didn’t want you reading into it. I was trying to protect you.”

  “You can’t. No one can!” I dropped from a yell to a whisper. “You lied to me? You?”

  “Mi, please understand.” Gyver stood and swore. His conflict was clear, but he shook it off his face. “I’ve got to go. I drove.”

  I nodded, face blank. Inside I was collapsing.

  “Say something,” he begged.

  I couldn’t.

  He sighed. “We need to talk, but Meagan lives across the lake; I can’t get back before visiting hours end. I’ll come first thing tomorrow.”

  He was leaving me. Alone. With my emotions from earlier. Adding a new layer of grief and fear.

  “Don’t go.”

  “I’m sorry, Mi.” He bent to kiss my cheek. Impulsively, I turned so his lips brushed mine: stealing a little more of him before he went after Meagan. Maybe I thought he’d stay. Maybe I needed him to.

  He didn’t.

  He just swore softly, touched my hand, and left.

  I was shattering. Or being crushed. My last bit of strength was cracking and my lungs wouldn’t cooperate. He’d left.

  And I had no one left.

  I was alone with nothing to do but stare at the vacant space where my horseshoe should be hanging and try to breathe despite the pressure that threatened to shred my heart and lungs. There were too many empty hours until morning and too many problems to face when it came.

  I jammed the call button, and Mark stuck his head through my door. “How’s my favorite patient?”

  “Sleep meds. Can I have some?” The words quivered. My lower lip did too.

  “It’s only seven thirty—what’s going on?” Mark disconnected the empty bag from my pole. He put a stopper in the line.

  “I’m ruining everything I touch today!” This was a melodramatic Mom comment. I took a shaky breath and tried again. “I’m in a toxic mood and I started fights with everyone.”

  Mark picked up my phone from the bedside table. “So? You’re a big girl. Call and apologize.”

  I drew my knees up and hugged them. “These are bigger than over-the-phone I’m sorrys.”

  “And?” Mark shrugged.

  “But …” I searched for another excuse and tried to take a full breath. “Visiting hours are almost over.”

  Mark grinned. “Nice try, but I’ll make an exception.” He placed the phone in my hand and curled my fingers around it. “Call. Fix your fights and you’ll sleep like a baby.”

  I nodded somberly and Mark patted my arm and left my room. I stared at the screen, blurred by tears that refused to stay out of my eyes. I’d made it clear to Gyver and he’d made a choice. He didn’t choose me.

  A shaky exhale became a sob and I dialed.

  “Hey, you. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry.” I garbled the words.

  “Is this a yes?”

  If this was that important to him—if I was that important to him, then he deserved a chance. A real one. “Yes. Will you come?”

  “Yeah, sure. But I’m, like, twenty minutes away. Will they let me in after eight?”

  My eyes flooded and my throat tightened. I didn’t deserve this guy who’d drop everything because I wanted him to hold my hand. “Yes,” I whispered as the tears spilled onto my cheeks.

  “Don’t cry.” Ryan sounded sympathetic, not triumphant. “Want me to stay on the phone?”

  I shook my head, tears choking my breath. “No. I’m okay.”

  “All right. Soon.”

  Southern Nurse might have been waiting outside the door for me to say good-bye, or she might have uncanny timing, but she came in to check on me as I shut off the phone and surrendered to my desperation and tears.

  “Mark said you were out of sorts. What’s the matter, darlin’?”

  I didn’t answer, just sobbed. Panic was clawing me inside out with uncertainty. I sat up on my bed and broke: tears washing down my chin and over my knees. I couldn’t find words or air.

  “Breathe.” Southern Nurse rubbed my back.

  I tried to. Tried to make my lungs inhale and exhale with any sort of rhythm. To banish the dizzy spots forming in the corners of my vision. When I managed a half breath, Southern Nurse—no, I couldn’t call her that anymore. I checked her name tag. When I managed a half breath, Polly said, “Good, that’s better. Now you need to get some rest. We should call your parents.”

  “Please don’t call my mom. I can’t. I can’t handle her tonight. We had a fight and she’ll be a mess and I’ll have to pull it together and reassure her. I just—I just can’t. Ryan’s coming.”

  Polly’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I heard about this afternoon. Cancer’s hard on everyone, darlin’; sometim
es you need a little space. I won’t call if you agree to this: when he gets here, you hug him tight, then you get some sleep. Your job right now is getting better. Nothing’s more important than that.”

  I nodded, but didn’t release her hand when she stood. She sat back down. “I’ll wait with you until Ryan comes. It’s all right. Sometimes you just need a good cry. You’ve been brave for so long, it’s about time you cracked. Let it out.”

  When Ryan arrived my face was splotchy and tear stained; the shoulder of Polly’s scrubs was damp and rumpled. After he’d stopped at the sink to scrub his hands, she turned me over to him, saying, “She’s had quite the day. Try and get her to calm down.”

  Ryan climbed up beside me. “Mia?” My name was a question and the next move was mine to make. I fit myself into the U of his arm, buried my face in his chest, and spilled sobs and confessions in tangled gasps.

  “I’m so tired of this, Ryan. All of it. I’m tired of fighting so hard to be healthy and trying to look brave. I’m not brave. I’m scared. Meagan’s brother, Max, died. What if that’s me? I don’t know how to do this anymore. It’s too hard. I’m so scared.”

  “Shh, baby, shh. It’s okay.” His arm around my shoulders tightened.

  Polly came in with a sedative and I obediently sipped, swallowed, and blew my nose in the tissue she held out like I was a toddler. “Enough of that for today. Rest now. I’ll be back to check on you.”

  “Rest,” I echoed, already impatient for the sedative to fuzz my vision and words. But before they did, there were things I needed to say, gratitude I needed to express. He was trying so hard and being so much more than I ever imagined. I needed to give him credit, but lacked the words to say it right. “Ryan, I’m sorry about earlier. Thanks for coming. I really needed you.”

  “All you had to do was ask.” He touched his forehead to mine and shut his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.

  “I’m here. Right here.” It became a mantra. Ryan whispered it to me as he rubbed my back. I stopped fighting the sleeping pill and surrendered to its escape.

  Chapter 35

  My temperature was edging above 103 when the nurses took it before seven the next morning. They hesitated a moment, eyes flickering to Ryan as he blinked himself alert. He wasn’t used to waking up to an audience.

  “He stays,” I rasped. His presence meant yesterday’s damages hadn’t been part of my horrible fever dreams. Max had died; Hil had yelled; Gyver had left. Everything was blurry and surreal. I hiccupped.

  “Is she okay?” asked Ryan as the nurses frowned and paged the doctor.

  “No kissing,” teased Mark, but his smile was flat. “This is more than the flu. We’re going to need to do a full blood workup.”

  “I’ll call her parents,” said Business Nurse.

  Mark drew blood, then the nurses were gone in a rush of rapid-fire medicalese.

  “Is it always this crazy in the morning?” Ryan rubbed his eyes.

  “Sometimes.” My head felt so heavy; I rested against his chest and asked, “Will your mom freak out that you didn’t go home?”

  He shrugged. “She’ll just think I stayed over at the party. No big deal.”

  Ryan leaned his chin against my forehead. Instantly he jerked away. “Baby, you’re burning up. Your shirt is soaked.”

  “I’m too tired to change.” I shut my eyes. “I just want to sleep.”

  The sunlight hit my room with stinging brightness. Everything looked pointed and sharp. I wanted the curves and buffer of unconsciousness.

  “Two minutes. Change and wait for your meds, then you can sleep.”

  “You’ll stay?”

  “They’ll have to pry me away.”

  I willed my eyes open and relaxed my fingers from Ryan’s shirt. He opened the closet and unzipped my suitcase.

  “Pick one that buttons. My IV.” I made a weak gesture toward my port.

  “Got it.” Ryan selected a green paisley pajama top. “Do you need pants?” He held out a red-and-blue-striped pair.

  “No.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders to help me sit up when my trembles made it clear I couldn’t do it alone. I leaned against him and lifted shaky hands to my buttons. Why were they so hard to undo? Had the buttons grown and the holes shrunk? My fingers were clumsy.

  Ryan gently pressed them out of the way. Shifting his arm on my back and sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands—most at home when shooting three-pointers—were soft as kisses as he unfastened the buttons on my sodden top. He held the cuff so I could pull my right hand out of the sleeve, then traded support arms and peeled it off my back, carefully freeing my left hand. The cool air hit my damp skin and I began to shiver, hugging my arms across my chest, too cold and weary to be embarrassed.

  “This probably isn’t how you imagined seeing me topless.” I tried to joke, but my teeth chattered and mangled the words.

  He helped thread my arms through new sleeves. “Plenty of time for that when you’re better.” He was being so careful and his fingers brushed like whispers, but still left aching pathways on my fevered skin.

  Eyes shut, I leaned my throbbing head against his shoulder as he closed the buttons over my blue-white stomach.

  “It’s not the right time, not how I planned it, but I have to tell you—” His fingers stilled on my third button and he turned his lips toward my ear. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  I was trying to summon the energy to lift my head and look at him; the noise of the door opening barely registered.

  “Hey—” The greeting crashed to a stop. “You’re unbelievable, Winters. This is a hospital.” Disdain dripped off each word. I twisted my head—still on Ryan’s shoulder—to see Gyver at the door, his face darkened with contempt.

  “God, what’s wrong with you? She’s sick. I would never—” Ryan’s voice choked off and he turned his back on Gyver. Fastening my last three buttons, he eased me back against the pillow and tucked the blankets up. I shivered as the cool sheets replaced his body heat.

  Gyver dismissed him. “It’s nothing compared to this summer—not that you’d know.”

  “You’re right. I wasn’t here then. But I’m here now—so stop acting like you know everything.” His voice was fierce, but the hand on my cheek was gentle and cool.

  “It’s just the flu,” Gyver said.

  “She’s neutropenic—she has no immune system,” corrected Ryan. “There’s no ‘just’ about anything she catches. Do you know how bad her counts are? Or that her temp went up four degrees since yesterday?”

  “Where’d you learn all that?” My voice was too thin to reflect my shock.

  “The nurses just now. Internet. Books from your dad. And I listened when the doctor was talking to you.” He sounded miserable. “I don’t want you to end up in isolation.”

  “Isolation?” Gyver and I asked.

  “My God, Mia. Were you in the same room when the doctor was talking? If you don’t respond to antibiotics, you have to go in isolation. That’s why there are hand-washing signs all over your door and why the nurses keep telling us ‘no kissing.’”

  “But they were saying I might go home today. Weren’t they?” It was so hard to remember; it seemed so long ago.

  “Yesterday it looked good, but now your fever’s back up.” He reached for my hand, stroking it with his thumb.

  Gyver had gasped “huh?” when Ryan mentioned kissing. I shut my eyes. It was much more likely I was sicker via the stress of last night than the barely-brushed-lips kiss I’d stolen from him. Perhaps I should’ve reassured Gyver, but I couldn’t. “Ryan was helping me change. I sweated through my shirt,” I offered instead.

  I peeked from beneath lowered lids; Gyver looked defeated, wilted. “Mi, how’d you get so sick? You were fine. I would’ve stayed.” He took a step forward, then stopped. Ryan was in his spot.

  “I’m just tired,” I mouthed.

  “’Course you’re tired, you didn’t sleep well last night. You can as soon a
s your meds come. Promise.”

  “You stayed here?” There was a long pause before Gyver continued in a detached voice, “I came to talk about yesterday, but it looks like you don’t need me.”

  The tears started as a whimper this time. They leaked from under closed lids and felt icy on my fevered face.

  “Don’t cry, baby.” Ryan’s soft breath on my neck as his hand wiped my face; Gyver’s panicked, “Mi—”

  I didn’t open my eyes, couldn’t look at either of them. Or my parents, doctors, and nurses when they arrived.

  “There’s too many people in here,” barked Business Nurse over the melee of greetings, status updates, and my mother’s loud wailing. My hand instinctively closed on Ryan’s.

  “I guess I’ll go,” Gyver offered.

  I didn’t protest. Didn’t open my eyes.

  Couldn’t bear to see him walk away from me for the second time in two days.

  Chapter 36

  I spent two days at the mercy of feverish hallucinations. Voices alternated between whispering and yelling gibberish. Faces loomed clownishly large and then blurred behind the spots in my vision. In my delusions the nurses’ needles morphed to guns, then transformed into my mother’s knitting needles.

  I woke up yelling something, my mouth coated with desperation, but I couldn’t remember why. I’m sure there was a moment when my fever broke and danger passed, but I didn’t notice it. Awareness came back gradually—being able to differentiate day from night. Sitting up without the room tilting. Realizing the only person who’d held my hand or called all week, besides my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Russo, was Ryan. That his summer tan was fading and being replaced by dark circles under his eyes and lines on his face. Lines that seemed to get deeper every time he rubbed his forehead.

  His blue eyes filled the first time I opened mine and said, “Hi, Ryan.”

  He wiped them on his sleeve and climbed out of his chair so he could pull me against his chest in an urgent hug. “Hey, you. How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  He sniffle-laughed and rocked me gently. “Tired? How’s that even possible?”