Gone.
CHAPTER 26
I SAW MY LAST patient and murmured an excuse to Brittany before leaving in a rush. In my car, I took out my burner phone and texted Gabe:
One of the girls from Ben’s van came into my clinic. Think she recognized me.
Gabe replied almost immediately.
Shit. Tell Ben. He can talk to her.
But what if he didn’t get to her in time? No, I couldn’t just sit around waiting for my world to crash around me.
I had a half hour before Josh’s chemo appointment, so I drove to Julia’s house. I parked on the street and sent a quick text to Nate reminding him about Josh’s appointment. He wasn’t the type to forget something so huge, but he’d been so busy with his case, acting like a promotion would change everything, that I thought I’d remind him.
I’ll be there, he texted back.
And then a second later: X
I smiled and tucked my phone in my bag.
Julia answered the door looking fresh and chipper in khakis and an oversize dove-gray turtleneck, a stark contrast to the last time I’d seen her. Now that I knew, I could tell she’d taken painkillers. But even as a doctor it was difficult to spot the signs.
“It’s good to see you. Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?”
I hung my purse and coat on the coat hook by the door, my fingers brushing against something hanging from one of the hooks as I did.
“Sure. Coffee, thanks.” I followed her into the kitchen. “I just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing?”
Julia lowered her gaze, shamefaced, and turned to fill the kettle. “I’m so sorry for asking you to prescribe me oxy. I really shouldn’t have tried to drag you into this. I was just desperate.”
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “Seriously. I just hope you understand why I had to say no. Are you… feeling better now?”
She put the kettle on the stove and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. “Yes. I’m all… sorted out now.” I noticed the slight hesitation. She’d received the pills I’d put in her birdhouse last night, then.
“Good. Someone must be looking out for you.” I figured slipping the oxy I’d gotten from Ben into Julia’s birdhouse was the least I could do for her. She could lose her job, her license, her ability to pay for pain medication, all because I hadn’t locked the medical supply room door after I’d stolen the prescription pads.
Julia side-eyed me, but I smiled innocently, confidently. Even if she suspected it was me, I’d learned my lesson at the clinic and had been on the lookout for any video surveillance cameras. I’d found one directly above the door and had made sure I was never in frame. There was no evidence I’d left the pills.
“So, what’s your lawyer say about the drug charges?”
“I’m meeting with him later today. I was able to give him the alarm system footage here at home, which proves I wasn’t at the clinic the night they’re trying to charge me for. At the very least, it’ll cast reasonable doubt.”
“But you said you did take the samples.”
She shrugged, her mouth pressed into a hard line. “So sue me.”
I frowned. I’d never seen this side of Julia.
The kettle whistled, and Julia scooped instant coffee into the mugs, pouring water over.
“You take your coffee black, right?” she asked.
“Yes, thanks.”
We took our mugs to the living room and sat on the couch, sipping our coffees as we spoke for a few minutes about Josh and chemo, Nate and his big case, the bake sale Moira’s church had run last week to raise money for Josh.
I set my coffee on the table and stood. “Excuse me, I think I hear my phone ringing.”
I hurried down the hallway to the front door, where I’d left my purse. Darting a quick glance over my shoulder, I rifled through Julia’s coats, looking for the item I’d noticed when I arrived.
Julia’s hospital electronic key card was hanging under a navy puffer coat. I was a little surprised security hadn’t taken it, but maybe this was her spare. We were all given two. I plucked it from the coat hook and slipped it into my purse, feeling ashamed and horrified of the person I’d become.
Back in the living room, I sat and picked up my coffee. “So, how’s Kia handling it all?”
“It’s been tough on us. Our relationship is so new, and she can’t really be seen as supporting a lawbreaker. It looks really bad for her.” Julia blew gently on her coffee.
“Does she know about the… delivery method?”
“God, no! She’d definitely turn me in!” Julia laughed, but stopped abruptly, the smile falling from her face. “You won’t turn me in, though, right?”
I smiled at Julia and patted her knee. “I swear, my lips are sealed.”
* * *
BACK AT the hospital, I parked and slipped Julia’s key card under the spare tire in my trunk.
Guilt swirled fast and thick in my gut, turning to bile in my throat. I would never need it, I assured myself. It was just insurance, really. If things went bad and vitiligo girl turned me in, somebody had to take the fall for setting up an opioid drug ring. Julia and I looked vaguely alike, and we both worked at the clinic, but only one of us was being investigated for stealing.
Like my dad always said, never get caught drawing dead. And now I had a backup plan.
I just hoped it never came to that.
I hurried through the staff entrance and took the elevator to the pediatric oncology floor. A Winnie-the-Pooh mural greeted me, a Dr. Seuss aquarium, a wall of children’s books. All around me were children in wheelchairs, some wearing oxygen tanks and others too weak to get out of their beds.
Moira, Nate, and Josh were already in the infusion center, a large room that held six reclining chairs with IV poles and bags of clear liquid hanging from them. Each chair had a television that could be pulled out of the arm, like on an airplane, equipped with headphones and a wireless video game controller. There was another boy at the far end of the room, maybe a year or two older than Josh. He was completely bald. His mother was reading a homeopathy magazine while he played a video game.
Josh’s eyes lit up when I entered and he smiled, a tiny, feeble curl of his lips. I pulled him into my arms, my heart pinging with those agonizing sympathy pangs mothers get when they see their child in pain.
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” I murmured.
He sighed faintly. He was so weak. Even before starting chemo, the cancer had been eating him alive. I would be glad when he got the reprogrammed T-cells injected next week.
As long as I had the money to pay for it, that is.
Josh sniffed and swiped at his nose. One of the side effects of chemo was a mess of flu-like symptoms. Josh’s eyes were red-rimmed, his skin pale and cold, making him look even smaller and more vulnerable than he should.
“My tummy hurt this morning, but I’m better now. Grandma made me some soup, and it was yummy. I have these things in my mouth that hurt, though.”
He opened his mouth, and I peered in. The moist pink skin along his gums and under his tongue was riddled with white-edged mouth ulcers.
“Poor baby. Those look sore.” I handed him a bottle of water, feeling impotent and useless, and stroked a hand over his silky hair only to have a tuft of it come off in my hand.
I met Nate’s eyes, seeing my horror mirrored in his face. Tears flooded my eyes. I clasped my hand over my mouth and turned away so Josh wouldn’t see my reaction. The antiseptic smell in the room burned my throat as I stared at the hair in my palm.
This was hair I’d washed and brushed and cut since Josh was an infant. And soon he would have none.
If only I’d noticed the bruises on Josh’s small body sooner. Would his chances be better now?
I thought suddenly of when Josh was a baby, the early stages of my pregnancy, when I’d been so terrified about that paternity test. How I’d had to go back into the hospital when I’d unexpectedly started bleeding at twenty weeks. How I’d gone into la
bor three weeks early, and he’d been born underweight and yellow. How he’d broken his leg jumping off the top of the slide when he was just three. But it had all been fine, everything normal and ordinary and just, magically, fine.
Until now.
I had to get that money.
I don’t know why I did it—maybe even then I couldn’t let go—but I shoved Josh’s hair into my pocket.
Dr. Palmer came in, casting a quick glance at me. Josh grinned a greeting, and Dr. Palmer’s creased face lit up. My boy. There was nobody who didn’t like him.
“Hey, Captain Smiley. You’re looking good!” Dr. Palmer pulled a round, wheeled stool over to Josh and gave him a fist bump.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip. “He was very sick last night.”
“It might take a few days for us to find the right combination of antinausea meds. I hope it’ll settle down by tomorrow.”
“Dr. Palmer, did you know that snails are very old?” Josh asked.
“I didn’t know that,” Dr. Palmer replied seriously. “What makes them old?”
“Because they’re very slow. So we hafta take care of them.”
“I think that’s very wise.”
The nurse, Katie, came in and prepped the bag of fludarabine and cyclophosphamide—the lymphodepleting chemotherapy regimen—that would go into Josh’s arm.
“Are you ready, Josh?” Dr. Palmer asked.
“Accept the challenge, I do,” Josh answered in a funny Yoda impression.
Nate and Dr. Palmer laughed, but I could barely bring myself to smile. I was so tired and so sad and so, so angry that this was happening to us. Angry that I was so helpless. Angry at this thing we couldn’t see eating away at Josh’s insides.
Katie leaned in with the needle, and I closed my eyes, trying not to think about it sliding into the blue vein on the back of my baby’s hand.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, Nate and I tucked Josh into bed together. It was nice having Nate home instead of working for once. I leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. Charlie clambered onto the bed, excited that everybody was home. Josh wrapped his arms around him, and Charlie dragged his tongue across his face.
Josh giggled and it was pure magic. Even though his face was thinner than ever, his skin sallow, dark circles ringing his eyes, the antinausea meds seemed to be working. He’d only vomited a few times since the chemo drip. Now he was sleepy and clean, and we were all together, smooshed onto his bed.
Nate and I lay on either side of Josh, with Charlie at his feet.
“Pimple squish.” Josh smiled, although he lacked his usual energy. “Can I go back to school tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, buddy,” Nate said. “Soon, I hope. You have your infusion next week, and if that goes well and you’re feeling better, you can go back to school after that.”
“But it’s boring at home. And I miss my friends.”
“We know, sweetie.” I stroked a hand over his hair gently. “You know I love you so much?”
“I know, Mommy. I love you so much back. More than belly buttons.”
“I love you more than noodles.”
“I love you more than poop-heads.” Josh was giggling now.
I burst out laughing. “Wow, that is a lot. I’m a very lucky mommy.”
Nate stood, shaking his head. But he was smiling when he moved toward the door. “You little weirdos.”
I got up too. “Can I have a kiss?” I held my cheek out to Josh, and he kissed it.
“You can have all the kisses,” he said somberly. “Days and nights and up until I’m dead.”
That word—dead—sent a spike of adrenaline shooting through my veins. I froze, wishing I could call Nate back to help me deal with this conversation.
I didn’t want Josh accepting it, acting like it was an inevitability. He had to fight.
“That isn’t going to happen for a very long time,” I said.
Josh’s face pinched with too much sadness for a five-year-old. “I might. We all die. George told me that his hamster died and he didn’t even want him to die.”
I wanted to kick that little jerk in the knees.
I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on Josh’s chest.
“I don’t care what George told you. Sometimes we can stop it. That’s why I became a doctor, and sometimes I stop it. And that’s what this cancer treatment is about. You’re going to live a long and happy life. I promise you. Remember what Daddy told you? The good guys always win. And we’re the good guys.”
He smiled faintly.
“Do you believe me?”
He thought about it for a minute and then nodded.
“Good.” I pulled the blankets to his chin. “It’s time for you to get some sleep now.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“Always.”
I lay next to him, and he snuggled into me. After a moment Josh’s breathing evened, the way only a child’s can in sleep.
From downstairs I could hear the gentle murmur of the TV. The heating kicked on, a pleasant hum. I breathed in the scent of Josh and felt my body relax, and before I knew it, I was drifting off too.
CHAPTER 27
GLASS SHATTERING.
My mother’s scream.
The sound of gravel crunching, someone knocking on glass, a voice calling, “Hello? Hello?” A curse, like someone was in pain.
Help, I wanted to shout, but the word was stuck in my throat.
The scent of smoke was thick in my nose. Everything was dark.
My head felt funny. The way it did when I did a handstand in the backyard for too long. Something warm was dripping down my face.
“Emma.” The sound of my name made me jump.
That was when I realized I was upside down.
I was in the car. We’d been driving home and then the brakes had screeched. A scream. Glass shattering. And then nothing.
I fumbled to release my seat belt, falling directly on my head when I did. Pain jolted through my temples and down my neck.
“Mommy?” I whimpered. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d called my mom that.
“Emma.” Dad’s voice floated to me, riding the crest of a moan. “Help.”
I tried to open my door, but it was stuck. I moved to the other side and pushed the door open. The night air was cold, bringing a sharp awareness along with the bite.
I looked at the car. It was a shattered mess, twisted metal and shards of glass everywhere. Orange flames licked out from under the hood. The smell of gas coiled with the scent of smoke.
I yanked at the driver’s door, my hands shaking.
“Help… me…” Dad moaned.
I reached over him to unfasten his seat belt. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to look at my mother’s fixed stare on the other side of the car.
Dad’s body landed heavily. “I can’t… move my legs.”
The crackle of fire reached me. I tugged on my dad’s arms, straining, finally getting him out and away from the car. The fire was spreading, flames leaping higher now, a roar as it engulfed the battered vehicle.
“I have to get Mom,” I panted.
Dad grasped my wrist, an iron shackle. “No. Don’t go. She’s dead.”
I snatched my wrist away, horrified at his words.
“No. I have to—”
The explosion pushed me back, a hot ball of fire punching me like a fist. Sounds dimmed, and I lay motionless on my back for a long time.
I rolled over, choking on blood that had pooled in my throat, and scooted closer to my dad. I gently moved his head so it was on my lap. His breath was coming in short, shallow bursts. Blood flecked his lips and smeared across his hair. His mouth was twisted in pain.
Crack.
A twig popped somewhere nearby.
“Who’s there?” My voice was thin and trembly.
Nobody answered, but a shadow moved over near the bushes by the road. My heart leaped. The shadow darted into, then out of a
pale slice of moonbeam.
“Help us!” I shouted, louder now. “Please!”
But the shadow had already disappeared.…
* * *
I JERKED AWAKE, disoriented. The nightmare clung to my throat, sticky like jelly.
My eyes flew to the clock. It was almost time to meet Ben and Gabe. Josh was sleeping soundly. Where was Nate?
I slipped downstairs to find my husband crashed out on the couch. Charlie was asleep at his feet, his ears dangling over Nate’s ankles. The TV murmured quietly in the background.
Nate’s head was propped on the edge of the couch, one arm thrown carelessly over his forehead, his mouth hanging open slightly. Gentle snores rumbled from deep in his chest.
I watched him, thinking of Violeta and Julia and vitiligo girl and the drugs that tied us together. I thought about the lies I’d told. Big lies and small lies. Half-truths and tiny fibs. To Nate. To his whole family. To Ben. Even to Gabe.
Especially to Gabe.
The lies were woven around me, a spider’s web, swirling, tightening. I was becoming more and more entangled. I didn’t know how to get out now.
Nate was a pretty heavy sleeper, but if he woke and found I was gone, he’d have questions I couldn’t answer. I moved to wake him, to convince him to go upstairs to sleep, but caught sight of an envelope that had been torn open and left on the coffee table. It was addressed to me.
I snatched up the envelope, annoyed that Nate had opened something of mine. My fingers went numb as soon as I read the contents. It was the hospital bill.
I sat on the edge of the coffee table.
Summary for patient: Joshua Sweeney.
Please pay amount due within 30 days of the statement date.
Below that was an itemized list of treatments that Josh had received so far. Above that, in bolded black letters, was the amount owed.
Even after the insurance company had paid, there were still too many digits. They wobbled in front of me. The money in the GoFundMe account wouldn’t cover it. And this was only the first month. It didn’t even include the amount I needed to pay the hospital for Josh’s infusion next week.
Do No Harm Page 17