The Tea Series
Page 77
“Not really.”
“What’s going on?”
“I just don’t feel well. Teagan made me eat all day, and it isn’t working for me. I feel like I should just throw up, and then I’d feel better, but I can’t throw up.”
“How about if you lay down? Maybe you can get a little sleep.”
“I tried. It isn’t working.”
“I’ll lay down with you. That might help.”
“I know I’m being a crazy person. I know that. I’m trying to be sane, and I promise I’ll be sane soon, but it just feels like the whole world is messed up right now. It’s more than just my mother’s death.”
Did I put the word “just” in front of the words “mother’s death”?
What the hell?
Then, when I realized that, I didn’t even cry.
I got up, went to the bathroom, ran myself a bath, didn’t even bother with the smelly good stuff, sat there in a daze until the water cooled, did a half-ass job of drying myself off, and went to bed.
I woke up at eleven eleven. It was so dark in the room. A.J. was beside me, and the moment I moved, he was wide-awake.
“You okay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just feel wrong. My stomach hurts. My back hurts. I feel like I need to throw up, but like if I even sit up, I’m gonna pass out. Please, God, I can’t have the flu. Teagan’s wedding is the day after tomorrow. I can’t be sick. I can’t miss it. What am I gonna do?” I started to cry. It seems to be my go-to response for everything.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“For what?”
“To have you checked out.”
“But I’m not hospital sick. I’m just sick, sick.”
“But if we go to the hospital and it is the flu, maybe they can give you something that will make you okay in time for the wedding.”
“If they had a medicine that could get rid of the flu in forty-eight hours, don’t you think we’d know about it?”
“Maybe it’s a bug, not the flu.”
“Then it will work its way out.”
“Cara, I’m not going to argue about this. We’re going to the hospital. You can walk, or I’m going to carry you, but we’re going.”
Is it a sin against all of womankind that I liked that he just took over and pretty much forced me to do the right thing?
When we got to the emergency room, it made more sense. It seemed like half the people there had the same complaint that I had. There was a guy in the corner who was throwing up, which would normally make me throw up, but for some unexplained reason it didn’t.
Thank you, Mom.
I know I always said “thank you, God” before, but since my mom passed, I’ve switched that to “thank you, Mom,” and God is good with it.
I was just about to walk out the door when they finally called my name.
Back in my little cubicle, A.J. helped me change into a hospital gown and got a blanket from the nurse. All of the sudden, I was freezing.
They came in and asked a bazillion questions. A.J. explained that I had been having a hard time since my mother was killed unexpectedly by a drunk driver. My brain kind of flipped. If a drunk driver kills someone, is it ever expected?
While I was lost in that thought, the doctor left, and a nurse came in almost immediately. They did a bunch of tests. Had me stand up and sit down and do this and do that, but basically I was on autopilot.
They took some blood and a culture of my throat.
The nurse started an IV. He explained everything to A.J., but I was beyond caring at that point.
I laid back and watched the stuff drip into the tube that went into my hand.
I’m not sure what they put in there, but I really was feeling better. I fell asleep.
I’m not sure what time it was because the nurse’s head was blocking the view of the clock, but he was just checking on me any way. What woke me up was a fight in the cubicle next to mine.
From what I could understand, there was a kid that had run away from home and had taken some drugs, and the cops brought the kid into the emergency room. They called the parents, and the parents were none too happy about being called in the middle of the night to come and check on this problem child.
I couldn’t believe it.
If your kid had taken enough drugs that the cops brought him to the hospital, and the hospital tracked you down, wouldn’t your last concern be a lack of sleep?
Mom and I talked about that. One of the ladies that she met a long time ago had a teenaged son that was driving them nuts. Mom said that they had done everything right raising this kid, but that he was adopted and his biological parents were both drug addicts and had mental health issues, and that the older he got, the more he was like them. It was breaking her heart. From there, it just got worse. The kid was suspended all the time, and then he started getting violent at home. Drugs were suspected but not proven because they couldn’t get the kid to take a drug test, and the courts weren’t cooperating. Mom said this lady that had been the most gentle and loving mother you had ever thought of was turning into an angry and resentful person. When people that didn’t know the whole story saw her, they assumed the reason the kid was so messed up was that the mother was so angry and resentful. Chicken and egg situation, I guess.
A.J. positioned himself between them and me. I guess he figured a curtain wouldn’t stop them from coming on my side if they got into a physical fight, and it sounded like they might.
A few minutes later, they wheeled the kid out for tests, and I fell back asleep.
I had the strangest dream.
I was little. I was walking to school in my favorite dress. It was black and white and had bright colored flowers on it. It was a hand-me-down, but I loved it anyway because I was tall and my sister is short, so she was older when she wore it, and I felt so grown up.
Jeanie and I were walking, and I fell down.
I really hurt myself, which is weird because little girls fall down all the time and they aren’t really hurt.
My stomach hurt and my back hurt, and I started to cry.
I told Jeanie to go get my mom, that I needed my mom.
I woke up to a flurry of people in the room. I tried to open my eyes, but they weren’t working right. The bright lights kept them closed. I could feel people tugging at me.
All I heard was A.J.’s voice. He sounded panic-stricken. “What happens now?”
“Now we go to surgery.”
I was gone again.
I opened my eyes.
Different room.
A.J. was there.
His head was on the side of the bed. By my hip.
Everything hurt.
I tried to talk. It didn’t work.
When he raised his head, A.J. looked so sad.
It was three thirty-three when he told me that I’d lost our baby.
Our baby.
I didn’t even know.
Oh, sweet Jesus, please. I need my mom.
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
THE TEA SERIES
Hot Tea
Sweet Tea
Iced Tea
Green Tea
Peppermint Tea
Tea To Go
Summer Tea
Traditional Tea
Tea & Honey
Happy Tea
Dark Tea
Shattered Tea
THE TEA SERIES: THE BLENDS
Romantic Blend
Perfect Blend
THE GIRLS SERIES
Las Vegas
Hawaii Can Wait
On the Road (Again)
Spoiled Fruit
THE AUNTIE SERIES
Abbie
LESSONS, THE SERIES
Consequences
Coming soon — Promises
Learn more about Sheila and her books at www.SheilaHorgan.com
Series