Chapter Seven
In seconds the mound was swarming with people. Carrie raced forward too but couldn’t get close. She heard Dr. Fineman yell, “Get back, all of you.”
Carrie strained to see through the press of bodies. Holly grabbed her arm. “Can you see? What’s happened to my brother?”
“It’s his shoulder,” a voice announced. “I think it’s dislocated. Let’s get him to the hospital.”
The crowd stepped backward, and Carrie saw several people lift Keith and start across the field. Keith’s moans made her sick to her stomach. “Holly!” Mr. Gardner shouted. “Come on! Your mom and the others are already on the way to the van.”
Carrie watched helplessly as Holly ran ahead of her dad. She felt a tug on her hand and looked down to see an ashen-faced Bobby. “Will Keith be all right?”
She could scarcely control the tremble in her voice when she answered. “I think so. There’re plenty of doctors to help him.” She wanted to go to the hospital too. She wanted to be close by when Dr. Fineman reported to Keith’s family in the emergency room. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hella heading toward the parking lot. “Hella! Wait! Are you going to the hospital?”
The nurse turned. “Yes.”
“Please take us with you.”
“It could be a long wait.”
“I’ll call Lynda, and she can come get Bobby, but I want to be there. I have to be there.”
They rode to the hospital without saying much, and once there Hella led the way to the emergency-room waiting area. When Holly saw Carrie and Bobby, she said, “Oh, Carrie! We haven’t heard a thing yet.”
Mr. Gardner was holding his wife’s hand and was telling them, “It’s a sports injury. A bad one, but these things happen.”
Still, they all looked frightened. “But he always pitches, and he never gets hurt,” April cried.
Hella disappeared into the ER, and Carrie hoped she’d soon be back with some kind of report. She searched her pocket for a quarter for the pay phone but ended up borrowing one from Mr. Gardner. Shakily she dialed her father’s number and explained the situation to Lynda. “I’ll be right there,” her stepmom said. When Lynda arrived, Carrie introduced her to Keith’s family, who promised to get Carrie home safely. Before Lynda left with Bobby, she slipped Carrie ten dollars.
“What’s that for?” Carrie asked in surprise.
“In case you want to get something to eat.”
Carrie was touched by Lynda’s thoughtfulness. A part of her longed to have her mother there, but of course she was in Florida, and besides, she wouldn’t be there because she hated hospitals. Holly interrupted her thoughts with, “What’s taking so long?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t suppose he’s really hurt bad, do you?” Holly twisted her hands together while she spoke. “This isn’t right. It’s not fair.”
The doors from the patient area of the emergency room slid open, and Dr. Fineman emerged. His expression looked set and businesslike. He shook Mr. Gardner’s hand, and Carrie edged in closer, feeling like an intruder, but wanting to be a part of the group.
“His shoulder was dislocated,” Dr. Fineman said. “I put it back into place and called in an orthopedist. We X-rayed, and the film showed plenty of tissue trauma.”
“How is he?” Mrs. Gardner asked. “Can we take him home?”
Dr. Fineman adjusted his glasses. Carrie noticed that he still wore mud-caked sneakers, and there was a smudge of dried dirt along his receding hairline. “I want to keep him a few days for observation.”
“But why?”
“In the routine exam I gave him on the table, I felt a slight enlargement in his abdomen I want to check out.”
Carrie saw Mrs. Gardner slip her hand into her husband’s. “What does that mean?”
“I want to run some tests.”
Carrie backed away, because she didn’t want to listen anymore. She kept seeing her parents’ faces when a doctor had told them she had to be checked into the hospital for tests. Her mother had clamped her hand across her mouth, and her father had slammed his beefy fist violently against a nearby wall and shouted, “I want my little girl out of this place!”
“What do you want us to do?” Mr. Gardner was asking.
“I’m sending him up to oncology. It’s the floor he knows best, and I think he’ll be more comfortable up there. You can all go up in about fifteen minutes and say good night to him.”
“Me too?” Jake asked in his little-boy voice.
Dr. Fineman crouched in front of him. “You too. I’ll tell the staff you have my permission.”
Twenty minutes later all of them were standing around Keith’s bed. Carrie felt a sense of déjà vu being on the oncology floor. “Hey, buddy,” she heard Mr. Gardner say. “How’re you doing?”
Keith lay with his shoulder wrapped, his mouth set in a grim line. “I want to go home, Dad.”
“It’s just for a few days, son.”
“But I’ve got baseball district-finals and final exams coming up.”
Mr. Gardner shook his head and said gently, “The season’s over for you, Keith. You know that.”
Carrie saw Keith squeeze his eyes shut and wad up the sheets with his fist. “This stinks.”
“I’ll get in touch with your coach,” his dad said.
“And I’ll talk to your teachers,” his mother quickly added. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I want to pass, Mom. Not like last time. I want to stay with my class.”
“Rest right now, and we’ll be back in the morning. Things always look better in the sunlight.”
“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so despondent that Carrie felt a lump in her throat.
Holly leaned over the bed. “Do you want me to bring anything from home?”
“My Walkman and some of my tapes. You know which ones.”
Carrie waited while each family member bent over and kissed Keith; then she stepped forward. “Is there anything you want me to tell the kids at school?”
“Tell them to stay away. I’ll be home in a few days.”
“Even me?”
For the first time he offered a slight smile. “You can come visit if this place doesn’t give you the willies.”
“You mean the Little Shop of Horrors?” She used the name kids in support group had tagged the oncology floor. “I’m a veteran, remember?”
He smiled again, and it made her feel good. “Thanks, Carrie.”
Later, during the ride to her dad’s house, Mrs. Gardner said, “Whenever you want to visit Keith, please call us. We’ll be glad to pick you up and bring you along.”
Carrie thanked them. Next to her Holly whispered, “I’m glad we’re all friends, Carrie. This time Keith won’t feel so all alone.” Carrie nodded, but she knew that as long as Keith had his family around him, he would never be alone. And she hoped he would never know what it felt like to have anything less.
Lynda and her father were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee when she arrived. She told them what had happened, what Dr. Fineman had said, and how much she wanted to be at the hospital for as long as Keith was a patient. “You’ve hardly been here all weekend,” her father grumbled. “And you go back to your mother’s tomorrow night. I’ve hardly had any time with you at all.”
“But Daddy—”
Lynda broke in. “Now, Stan, we’ve been through this. Carrie should be with her friend if she wants.”
Stan Blake shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “I know, I know. Look, I’ll pick you up from school, and we’ll all have dinner together. Then I’ll drop you off for visiting hours. We should at least all eat together.”
“Sure,” Carrie said. “And Keith’s parents can take me back to Mom’s tomorrow evening. Her plane gets in at six o’clock.” Wearily she sat at the table and started talking about the picnic, adding, “We could have used you in the tug-of-war, Dad.” She knew she sounded piqued but couldn’t help it. Why was he not ther
e for her when it mattered, yet he made such a big deal over eating dinner together?
“I thought your mother was going to go to the picnic.”
“She had to change her plans, but you could have come.”
“Look, you know I don’t like being around all those poor kids.”
“But this was a picnic, not the hospital. We were all having fun.”
Her father stood abruptly. “Things just got fouled up this time. Next time we’ll all do your picnic together, if your mother lets me know in advance that she can’t take you.” He told Lynda, “I’m wiped out. I’m going to bed now.”
“Why does he make it out to be Mom’s fault?” Carrie fumed, once he’d left. “He just doesn’t care about the things that are important to me.”
“It’s hard for him to show his feelings, Carrie,” Lynda said.
Carrie wanted to shout, What would you know! You’re not part of our family! You weren’t there when I was all alone in the hospital. “Keith’s dad shows his feelings,” she said.
“Your father’s different. He cares, but it’s hard for him to show it.”
“Well, pretending something isn’t wrong won’t make it go away.”
Lynda reached out and touched Carrie’s arm. “We know that, but he doesn’t. It’s just his way of coping.”
Carrie jerked back her arm and stood. “All I know is that my friend is in the hospital, and something more’s wrong than a hurt shoulder. I’m going to spend every minute I can with him. And Dad had better let me, because people stand by people when they care.” She spun and hurried to the door. Lynda called her name, but Carrie ignored her, rushing up the stairs and throwing herself across the bed, where she wept for Keith, for herself and for the terrible, aching loneliness that chewed away at her insides.
Chapter Eight
“You know, Carrie, I thought you’d be more enthusiastic about the things I brought you from Disney World,” Faye said as she unpacked her suitcase.
Carrie stared down at the Mickey Mouse beach towel, the Cinderella jewelry box, and the hat with mouse ears. Didn’t her mother realize that she was too old for a stupid mouse hat? And Cinderella—what girl her age still thought about Cinderella?
“I dragged Larry from shop to shop so that I could buy you and Bobby gifts.”
“How nice of him to tag along.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. Larry is a wonderful man, and he really likes me.”
Carrie bit her tongue. Her mother sounded juvenile, like a lovesick seventh-grader. Frankly, Carrie wasn’t interested in the particulars of her mother’s relationship. “I told you, Mom, it’s hard to be excited about anything with Keith in the hospital.”
“And it’s hard for me to come back full of excitement and see you so down in the dumps.”
Carrie sighed and scooped up her presents. “I’d better go to bed. You remember that I’m catching the city bus tomorrow after school and going straight to the hospital.”
“Yes, you already told me.” Faye shook out a skirt. “How long will you be doing this?”
“For as long as Keith’s in the hospital.”
“What about your homework?”
“I can handle it, and anyway, there’s only a few weeks of school left.”
“Carrie, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but hanging around the hospital … well, it isn’t emotionally healthy.”
“He’s my friend, Mom, and I know how it feels to be alone with nothing to do but watch TV and not have anyone around to talk to all day long.”
She saw her mother’s hands pause. “I was with you as much as I could be,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I just said that the days get long. The nurses on the floor are busy, so you sometimes have to spend a lot of time by yourself. I figure that I can help Keith not to be so bored.”
“Well, don’t make plans for Thursday. I’ve asked Larry to have dinner with us. I think it’s time the two of you got better acquainted.”
“I don’t know how late I’ll be at the hospital,” she hedged.
“You can skip one visit, Carrie. It’s important to me for the three of us to eat together. I ask very little of you, you know. And while I’m thinking about it, we need to discuss what you’ll be doing this summer.”
“I was planning to get a job.”
“I think you should. My paycheck never seems to go far enough, and your dad’s no help.” She glanced around the room and gestured toward the windows. “This place is falling apart. It needs all new screens before summer, and the water heater’s older than Noah’s ark.”
“Maybe Dad—”
“He was always too busy to fix it up when we were married, so I doubt he’ll get to it now. Meanwhile he sits in a fancy new house while this one’s falling down around us.”
“It’s not so fancy,” Carrie said defensively. “It’s just newer.”
“Right,” her mother said with sarcasm. “Anyway, if you want new clothes for school next year, you’re going to have to earn the money to buy them.”
Carrie said good night, and once in her bedroom she tossed the beach towel and mouse ears into her closet and stuck the pink-and-white jewelry box on the back corner of her dresser. How could her mother buy her such childish gifts and then turn around and tell her she was grown-up enough to get a job and buy her own clothes? It made no sense to Carrie. No sense at all.
Outside Keith’s hospital door the next afternoon, Carrie squared her shoulders and pasted on a big smile before she breezed into his room, saying, “So, hotshot, how do ya feel?”
A grin lit up his face. “Like a pin cushion. Thanks for coming. I was beginning to think I’d have to face this Gilligan’s Island rerun alone.”
He clicked off the TV set as she pulled a chair next to his bed. “Tell me about it,” she said.
“Bloodwork today.” He held out his arm, crisscrossed with tape inside his elbow. “Tomorrow they’re doing a colonoscopy—some sort of medieval torture that includes a needle biopsy of my intestines.”
Carrie made a face. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Yeah, but that’s the fastest way to find out what’s going on inside my guts.”
He looked so dejected that Carrie wanted to cry. Instead she told him, “No blue funks allowed. If you’re interested, you were the talk of the school today.”
“What’d they say?”
“Mostly wailing in the halls because you won’t be pitching in the districts for Martin.”
Keith sighed. “Coach was up here at seven-thirty this morning checking on me. I really hate letting the team down.”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“Sore.”
“So you wouldn’t be pitching even if this other stuff hadn’t come up.”
He shook his head. “I told Coach we’d get ’em next year.”
For the first time Carrie noticed books heaped on the nightstand. “Homework?” she asked.
“Yeah. Mom talked to my teachers this morning and brought books and assignments at lunch.”
Carrie made a face. “Aren’t moms thoughtful?”
He didn’t smile. “The problem is, I don’t think I can keep up. Especially if they put me back onto chemo.”
“There’s no reason to think that anything serious is wrong. Maybe you have an ulcer or something.”
Keith gave her a long, level look. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Carrie. I’ve been down this road before, remember?”
“Well, even if they do start chemo again, you can still finish the term.”
“School’s not that easy for me.” He looked away as he told her. “I’m sort of a slow reader, and I never do good on tests. I’m already dreading the PSATs in the fall.”
Carrie pulled his English text from the stack. “Making decent grades isn’t so tough. You just need a little push, that’s all. English is my best subject.”
“And my worst.”
She thumbed through the pages. “I could help you,”
she added cautiously.
“Help me?”
“You know, sort of tutor you. If we work together, I’ll bet you can do pretty well on your finals.”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s the big deal? I’d like to help. I made the dean’s list last grading period.”
“I know you’re smart, Carrie, it’s just—uncool, you know?”
She understood instantly. She was only a freshman, and he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of his friends. Inspiration struck her suddenly. “I didn’t say I’d do it for nothing.”
“You’d charge me?”
“Didn’t you tell me you’d teach me to play the guitar?”
“Yeah, but—”
“So that’s what I’d like you to do. And I’ll help you through the end of the school term. And if anyone asks, we’ll just say you’re giving me music lessons.”
“Learning classical guitar isn’t easy.”
“But I’ll have a good teacher.”
He looked at her for a long moment before saying, “I’m game.”
“So am I. Now, who’s on first?”
“Correct.”
“What?”
“What’s on second.”
They broke out laughing together. “You know that old Abbott and Costello comedy routine?” Carrie asked.
“I know everything there is to know about baseball. How do you know it?”
“I told you, comedy’s my specialty. I watched lots of TV reruns when I was in treatment, and the old comedy shows were my favorites.”
“So TV and books got you through. What about your family?”
Carrie sobered. “What about them?”
“When I hurt really bad, my family tried to distract me. We played a hundred board games and thousands of hands of cards. Holly and I got pretty good at double solitaire, and the whole bunch of us played Uno because it was something Jake could play too.”
Carrie diverted her gaze. “We never did things like that. My parents didn’t handle my cancer too well, and besides, they were miserable with each other most of the time. They split right after I achieved remission.”
“Bummer,” Keith said, and she could tell by the way he shifted that he was feeling embarrassed.
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep Page 4