by Cara McKenna
She shot to her feet, me right on her heels.
Probably unsure which panicked woman was Jack’s mom, the nurse’s attention jumped between the two of us. “They’re still not sure exactly what’s wrong, but his fever’s down to one-oh-four, which is an improvement.”
Amber looked to me. “That’s good, right?”
“But it’s not looking like any bug we’ve been seeing.”
“Maybe a different doctor should look at him,” Amber said.
She smiled tightly at my sister’s tone. “Dr. Chandra is one of our most experienced pediatricians.”
“Does he have kids, this doctor?” Amber demanded.
“Dr. Chandra is a mother, yes,” the nurse assured her. “And we’ve got specialists consulting from other departments as well.”
This revelation seemed to calm my sister somewhat, and I added, “I’m sure Jack’s getting the best care possible.”
Amber took a moment to breathe, cheeks puffing, eyes shut. I rubbed her back.
Having ascertained that the more shrill of the two of us must be Jack’s mom, the nurse told Amber, “I’d like to take you to a private room and ask you some questions, to help the doctors narrow down the potential causes, okay?”
“I’ve been answering questions! The same ones, over and over and over!”
“Yes, but this flu is tricky, and we need all the details we can get.”
“Can I see Jack?”
“Not yet. His room’s still too chaotic. But you can help by answering these questions, and hopefully we’ll know what’s going on real soon.”
I patted Amber’s arm. “Go on.”
“What if I don’t know the answers?” she asked me over her shoulder, following the nurse, just like she might have panicked over a looming test as I dropped her at the middle school on a hundred bygone morning walks. I told her what I would have then.
“Just do your best.”
A couple of women in the waiting room watched me as I took my seat. One smiled weakly, seeming to say, Hang in there. The other looked away when our eyes met, hiding in her paperback.
Whatever new questions the nurse had to ask Amber, they must’ve been numerous—she was gone for ages. I prayed she’d be back before Marco got here. The last thing I needed was to deal with his bluster, without Amber there to cling to him, placate him, snap him into big, tough man-mode.
I glanced up at the clock as I finished skimming a magazine, and it was past eleven. My stomach growled and I ate Amber’s M&M’s. I saved the blue ones for last, just as Jack would, and I cried a little when they were gone.
My shins hurt. My chest ached. My eyes stung and I felt scared and useless. Like a fraud. I’d come here to be the strong one, but I felt anything but strong. I felt more alone than I could remember, trapped in this too-bright room between cheerful nurses and frightened parents. I rubbed the floor with the toe of my sneaker, to see if a fleck there was actual glitter or just some mica in the tile.
A shadow killed the sparkle, and a pair of black shoes stopped before me. Shit. Marco.
And I looked up, and there was Kelly.
Chapter Sixteen
I was too hollowed out, too wrung of emotion to process Kelly’s presence. My heart felt hard and small, rattling around my chest like a stone.
“Hi,” I said, and reached for the Kleenex box on Amber’s chair to blow my nose.
Without a word, Kelly took my snotty tissue and the ones Amber had left and shuttled them to the nearest trash can. Taking her spot, he held the tissue box on his thigh, rubbing his thumbs over its corners. It looked tiny in his hands, and I wanted to crawl onto his lap and go to sleep inside the box, safe on that soft, miniature mattress.
I looked in his eyes. The waiting room bulbs were bright, bleaching his irises to the color of rain clouds. He looks so exactly his age, I thought idly. No gray in his short hair, but lines beside his eyes and mouth, across his forehead. I wondered how he’d got those lines, when he so rarely smiled or frowned. Though when he did, he made the gestures count.
I pursed my lips, unsure what to offer aside from another, “Hi.”
“Can I ask what’s happening, or are you too upset?”
I cleared my throat. “They don’t know yet. Some complication with his flu, it sounds like. Or some flu they’ve never seen? I’m not sure. His fever’s high. Like, really high. It came down some, but not much . . .”
Kelly slipped his arm behind my back, squeezing my far shoulder.
My chin and lips trembled and a tear made its escape. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I live ten minutes away. What kind of a shit would I be if I didn’t?”
I gulped a sob. “The kind of shit who calls himself Jack’s father?”
Kelly tensed, sitting up straight, his hand sliding to my neck. I sensed his anger surge and recede in a breath, dutifully suppressed. He began rubbing my back in slow circles. “Your sister’s in there with him?”
“Not yet. She’s been taken someplace to answer questions, so they can try to narrow down what’s wrong . . . She’s been in there over an hour.”
“Waiting game sucks, doesn’t it?”
I nodded, letting a few more tears slip down my face.
“You need anything? You or her?”
“I’m not moving until I hear some kind of update.”
For an eternity we sat there, the motion of Kelly’s palm hypnotizing me, eventually bringing a small measure of calm. When I found I could take a full breath again, I gently shrugged his arm away so I could sit back in my chair.
I’d used up the tissues, so I dabbed my nose with my cuff. “Thanks. For coming.”
“Sure.”
“It could be a long wait. Don’t feel like you need to stick around. It’s nice that you came at all. Especially after . . . you know.”
He didn’t acknowledge our fight. He didn’t do much of anything, except lean forward with his elbows on his knees, absently linking and unlinking his fingers.
I knew this version of Kelly. I’d gotten the briefest glimpse of him, that second night he came to my room, after Don had attempted suicide. This was how Kelly got, when he was mired in a situation he couldn’t control. Couldn’t fix things in the ways he felt competent at, with muscle or threats.
He couldn’t hit on me now, like he had that night when Don cut him. He couldn’t close himself inside some hard, empowering role, and in lieu of that option, he seemed to just turn himself off.
There were plenty of times I felt that shameful sting of weakness, but I never shut down over it. If anything it charged me up. Sometimes with anger, sometimes for the worse, but I never just went numb in the face of my own discomfort.
“You don’t need to be here,” I murmured, picking up a copy of People from another chair.
His gaze met mine but he didn’t reply.
“I didn’t ask you to come.” I opened the magazine, retreating from his stare. “And I can tell you can’t stand it.”
“Who can fucking stand this? Flipping through magazines while you wait to hear whether a kid’s going to be okay or . . .”
“You don’t even know my nephew. You can just choose not to care. I wouldn’t blame you.”
His eyes narrowed. “How fucking coldhearted do you think I am?”
I sighed, exquisitely exhausted. “There’s nothing you can do to help, and it’s obvious this whole place is making you uncomfortable.”
“If you don’t want me here, just say it. I’ll go.”
The thing was, I did want Kelly here. Not this Kelly, but the one who watched over me at work, the one who’d scared Marco off. Guilt jabbed me in the heart to realize it, but I wanted strong Kelly, even after all those times I’d resented that side of him. Now I was rejecting this helpless versi
on of him, just as he so often rejected it himself.
I’d cared about this man, but I couldn’t have loved him, before. Not if I wasn’t ready to see him this way. Maybe he was a better person than I was, even being willing to be here, letting me see him so . . . stripped.
I chewed my lip, gnawed it the way the shame was worrying my insides. I took a deep breath and let it out, out, out, and turned to Kelly.
“No, I want you here.” He might not be my lover anymore, and we might not even be friends, but he’d come without my even asking, and he was prepared to stay. And I couldn’t think of another person in my life who’d do the same.
I touched his arm. “I’m glad you came.” My throat tightened, but I forced the words through—the absolute truth, despite how much I resented hearing it. “I hate feeling this helpless. I don’t want to be alone.”
He nodded, just a single dip of his chin, gaze dropping to the floor.
“I doubt we’ll be hearing anything soon,” I said. “You want to check out the vending machines?”
“Sure.”
We got up and wandered down the hall. I fished singles out of my wallet and bought myself a pop. Kelly got a Butterfinger.
“You need some air?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I tapped out a text to let Amber know where I’d disappeared to, and we headed through the lobby and outside, finding a bench that faced the circular drop-off area. For the moment there were no sirens, no flashing lights, no smokers stealing a taste of their vice. Just me and Kelly under the yellow glare of the awning’s bulbs. His candy wrapper crinkled loudly in the relative stillness, and my bottle hissed in reply.
For five minutes or more we nursed our worries in silence, my thoughts tugged between Amber, Jack, the uncertainty of how my life might look come morning . . . and Kelly.
Kelly’s nearness. The miracle of his very presence, when there was absolutely no reason for it. And how I’d so meanly diagnosed his callousness as fragility, when even putting himself in this position had to be intensely humbling. And brave. We were just the same. Two powerless people stuck waiting for news we couldn’t affect. Two people who felt too many ways about each other, too soon. How long had I even known him? Three weeks? Felt like months.
He cleared his throat. “How you doing?”
“I’m scared.”
He nodded. “I am, too. But nothing like what you must be feeling.”
And I broke. My face crumpled and tears pooled hot in my eyes before sliding down my cheeks.
“C’mere.”
I twisted my pop’s cap shut and set the bottle beside me, edging closer to Kelly. I expected his arm around my shoulders, but he surprised me. He hauled me sideways onto his lap, like a fireman cradling a rescued child. I let all my stupid, stubborn defenses fall away, and I wept against his neck. He stroked my hair, and when he whispered, “Go on,” I could smell chocolate on his breath.
I cried like I was already in mourning. And maybe I was. Maybe I was grieving the loss the old me, the one who’d gotten so used to acting like she had it together, who’d convinced herself she could fix whatever needed fixing. Kelly’d killed her. He’d struck the first blow when I had to admit I needed him on the ward, another when I submitted to him during sex. Again when I’d called him after my car broke. And this was the deepest and most mortal wound, letting him hold me like a baby and see me this weak and lost. The grief ran deeper still, to realize what I’d had with this man, and to imagine we’d likely wrecked it beyond repair.
When the sobs petered out, I dabbed my nose on the collar of Kelly’s shirt, etiquette be damned. A thick, homely breath rattled out of me, making my shoulders shake.
“Better?”
“My heart hurts. So bad.”
“Mine, too.”
Maybe he meant empathetically, about Jack. Maybe about us. I was too tired to truly care, and there was no room left in my brain for the confusion that guessing would bring. I pressed my face to his neck, damp with my tears, and took comfort for a final minute in how strong he felt. How much I’d miss this access. How much more naked and delicate I felt, when our bodies weren’t touching. And just how he smelled, how steady his pulse was—
The lobby doors shushed open and I pulled my face away. Getting found draped in Kelly’s lap would’ve been humbling if it were a stranger, but far worse was finding Amber standing there. If there was any time she needed her big sister to have her shit together, it was now, yet here I was a tear-streaked mess.
I fumbled to standing, wiping my face and accepting Amber’s hug. The second my arms closed around her skinny shoulders, she lost it, like I’d passed her the baton in a mental-breakdown relay. I rubbed her back and let her sob, fighting every instinct in my being to demand to know what was happening with Jack. Finally she stopped quaking, and I stepped back, smoothing her hair.
“What’s going on, honey?”
“They think it’s s-something called Reye’s Syndrome.” I mentally scanned my nursing school notes but came up blank. “Because I gave him some medicine—” she fell apart all over again, shaking and wheezing.
I steered her to the bench and sat beside her, ignoring my pop bottle as it tumbled to the ground behind us.
I massaged her shoulder. “Breathe slow.”
Kelly wandered a few respectful paces away.
“Oh my God,” she muttered after a minute. “It must’ve had aspirin in it, they decided. It was just kids’ medicine. But he could—” She cut herself off. “It messed him up, and it’s all my fault. It could fuck his liver up, or his brain . . . I just wanted his fever to go down . . .”
“It’s nobody’s fault, honey.” In my head I was screaming, Did they say he’s going to die?! But she didn’t need to hear that. Didn’t need to hear it even more desperately than I needed to hear the answer. I glanced up, wanting a glimpse of Kelly. For once his arms weren’t locked across his chest. His thumbs were tucked in his front pockets, almost like he was saying, I’m open. Lean on me if you need to.
I waved him over, and he took a seat on Amber’s other side. After a pause, he began to rub her back, slow, soothing strokes that made her entire frame sway, but it seemed to relax her.
She snuffled loudly and looked up, face pink, eyes red.
“Have they said . . .” I began, gagging on the words. “Did they give you any sense of how he’s doing?”
“They said he’s stabilizing.”
My heart soared. “Did they?”
“And they got his fever down some more, to one-oh-three. They wouldn’t say anything for sure, except that his temperature was better and they’re going to do something, something to do with his liver. But they can’t say if . . . They don’t know exactly how he’ll be. After.”
I nodded. “But he’s going to . . .” I couldn’t say it any more than she could. Couldn’t say live or die or bear to hear those cold, black-and-white words in relation to my favorite child in the entire world.
“They wouldn’t say for sure, but I think if they were allowed to, they’d say he was going to . . . you know. He’ll be okay.” Amber’s chin quivered as she turned to Kelly. “It’s real nice of you to come. His daddy didn’t even show.”
Hate flickered through Kelly’s eyes for just a second, then he got ahold of himself. “That’s a shame.”
“I know it is. And I always knew he was a loser, but I never thought he . . . That he’s this much of a coward. Child support’s one thing, but I mean, fuck the checks. He coulda kept every dime and I’d probably wind up forgiving him, if he’d just been here when Jack needs him.”
“No offense, but your boyfriend’s just a kid himself. I met him for about five minutes and I can tell you that.”
She nodded, miserable. “I know he is.” After a pause she asked him, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eigh
t.”
“Damn, that’s old.” She started laugh-crying then, and Kelly cracked a smile. “But maybe I ought to look for a guy closer to your age, someday. Somebody who’s got it together.” She sniffled. “You make Erin happy, anyhow, and that’s not easy.”
I looked away, and Kelly must have felt as I did, that now was not the time to tell her we weren’t a thing anymore. Let the girl think something in this world was dependable. Functional.
“I have to get back inside. They told me I might be able to see him after the liver thing. I don’t want to miss it.”
“We’ll be in soon,” I told her, not quite ready to resume all that horrid waiting.
Kelly swiveled and bent, fishing my pop bottle from behind the bench.
I accepted it with a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”
We sat in silence for a while. I let the positive update settle over me, loosening those old corset strings, one lace at a time until I could take a deep breath. Kelly just sat with his eyes on the city’s lights, bent forward with his elbows on his thighs. I watched his back swell and fall, swell and fall.
My phone buzzed and I scanned the text in a heartbeat. “They’re letting her in to see Jack.”
He put a hand to my shoulder before I could stand. “Give her a couple minutes, just her and him.”
“She needs me.”
“She’s a mom. She’ll be okay.”
I pursed my lips, but he was right. Maybe it was just that I needed my own protective role right now. I wanted to trick myself into believing I felt strong, as much as I wanted to trick Amber into believing it. Maybe it was time she was strong on her own, if only for a few minutes.
I sank back against the bench, my pop opening with a mighty hiss, agitated from its fall. Kelly grabbed it before it could erupt all over my lap, holding it over the concrete until the fizz died again. I took it back and he licked the spoils off his fingers.
“It’s hard to let go,” I said softly. “I was trusted with her since I was like, eight. Whether I wanted that gig or not. If I’m not there when she needs me, I’m like . . .” I trailed off, choked by a tearless sob.