The Big F

by Maggie Ann Martin

  Which I had been doing, by the way. Or at least trying to. It was pretty easy to keep things civil at the store, occasionally asking about classes or talking about music, but anytime we had to stay later than normal I scooted out of the store quickly before we could have time to really talk. That was, until the week of Luke’s flu epidemic.

  I would have never predicted Luke to be a pathetic sick person, but that he was. He lay in his bed all day waiting for Porter to bring him water and washcloths. At one point in the week I got a frantic call from Porter saying he didn’t know what to do about Luke anymore—he wasn’t getting any better.

  “Porter?” I asked as I answered.

  “You have to come watch him for a while,” he said.

  “Oh no, is he getting worse?” I asked.

  “He’s being impossible and keeps asking for you,” he said.

  “I’ll be over soon,” I said. I popped a few vitamins like I had been for the past few days and headed over to their apartment in the Jankmobile.

  I knocked on the door and could hear Luke’s pitiful sick voice saying “Danielle? Is that you?”

  Porter pulled the door open to a bundled-up Luke shivering on their old couch watching cartoons. He had a trash can by his head, a glass of water, Sprite, and a sports drink on the table, saltine crackers in hand with a wet washcloth on his forehead.

  “Oh, babe,” I said. I knelt down next to him and planted a kiss on his damp forehead. “What have you been able to eat today?”

  Porter rested his hands on the back of the couch. “He’s eaten some peanut butter toast and those saltines without … you know.”

  I nodded, handing Luke the cup of water for him to sip. “And his temperature?”

  “Been staying around a hundred and two,” Porter said.

  I looked down at the shivering mass of Luke and back up at Porter. “He’s going to have to go to the hospital soon if he doesn’t shake the fever. It’s been, like, three days.”

  “No,” Luke whined.

  “Don’t you want to feel better, babe?” I asked.

  “I do feel—” He sat up abruptly, and I instinctively grabbed the trash can in perfect timing to catch his vomit.

  This went on for the rest of the afternoon, Porter leaving around four to go to the bookstore. He was supposed to tell Misty I couldn’t come in today. We both agreed that if he still had the fever and was sick by the time he got back that we’d take him to the ER. He had to be getting dehydrated no matter how many glasses of water he drank.

  The clock hit ten by the time Porter came home and, after so kindly cleaning out the puke bucket, he helped Luke stumble into the front seat of the Jeep. I prayed that he could keep the puking to a minimum on the ride to the hospital, and as if he heard my silent prayers, he managed to do an ugly dry heave at every turn.

  Pulling up to the hospital, I ran inside to grab a wheelchair for him. Porter maneuvered Luke out of the car and into the seat with ease, and I wheeled Luke inside while Porter parked. As we came in, the woman at the front desk got on the phone, saying we needed a doctor immediately.

  “Hi,” she said. “Do you have his information?”

  I handed her his insurance card from his wallet and looked toward the doors, waiting for Porter to come inside.

  “Do you have his driver’s license?” she asked. I handed her the rest of the info and rubbed my free hand on his back. The doctor came outside in that moment and held out his hand.

  “I’m Dr. Haughbon. You look like you’re having a bad day, sir,” he said.

  “He’s held a hundred and two fever and been throwing up for three days. It won’t get better on its own,” I said.

  He nodded. “That sounds like the flu that’s been going around. Some cases get this extreme if you aren’t treated earlier. Here, let’s take him back and get him hooked up to some fluids. Are you family?”

  “We aren’t, but they are on the way,” Porter said, coming up behind me.

  “Okay, you two stay out here with Nina, and we’ll get some more information.” Porter nodded and patted Luke on the shoulder.

  “It’s going to be okay, man. We’ll be out here,” he said.

  Luke gave us a little smile before being wheeled back by Dr. Haughbon. Porter and I were instructed to stay in the waiting area until they were ready to have people visit him. They said this could take anywhere from one to two hours and to make ourselves comfortable. Making yourself comfortable in the hospital had to be the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. We sat on the uncomfortable gray chairs and watched bad reality television on the small screens while people fell asleep, sliding down their chairs and starting to snore. The occasional cough would break up the silence, but for the most part, an eerie calm fell over the place. Porter’s knees rhythmically bounced up and down, and he kept fidgeting with the blue notebook that happened to live in this pair of jeans. After thoroughly cracking all his knuckles, he looked my way.

  “Want to go get something to eat?” he asked.

  “Yes, please,” I said. I’d take anything over waiting in this room longer than necessary.

  It didn’t take long to find the area that connected to the rest of the hospital, including the cafeteria. There was a little section that was still open, boasting their delicious coffee for people who needed a pick-me-up. We walked into the small area and got two coffees, retiring to some couches just outside the waiting room. It was more pleasant out here—not so drab. I curled my legs up underneath me and sipped from the scalding coffee cup, coughing as it burned my throat.

  “I’m glad I didn’t have to do this alone,” Porter said.

  “You should have called me earlier if he was driving you nuts,” I said. “We could have gotten him in here sooner.”

  He nodded. “I hate hospitals; I was trying to keep it as a last resort.”

  My eyebrows furrowed.

  “I was always in and out of hospitals with my mom growing up. She took care of my brother and me on her own up until last year, when social services caught on to me living alone in our house while she was recovering from another episode. Of course, right when I’m seventeen—a year away from being able to legally take care of myself,” he said.

  “Oh my God, I had no idea,” I said.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t talk about it because it’s embarrassing—my family is royally effed up and being here, knowing people who didn’t know my dad or mom, is refreshing. It’s nice not getting those pity looks all the time.”

  “Porter?” I asked. He looked up and met my eyes, lazily so you could barely see into them underneath his long eyelashes. I was momentarily distracted and seemed to have completely lost my train of thought. I thought back to the night with Emilie in the tent, her mentioning that his dad had been in and out of the hospital lately.

  “Uh—” I fumbled. “How does your dad fit into this?”

  “He took off when my brother and I were kids. Only moved a few towns over but never bothered to get to know us. He knew that Mom had episodic breaks, that her mind would take importance over our care, but he left anyway. We basically raised ourselves. Then, within the last year, my teacher watched my mom snap in the parking lot of the school and called social services. I either had to move in with my dad or go into foster care for a few months. I thought moving in with him would be the lesser of two evils,” he said.

  His fingers twitched in his lap, and I took his hand in mine. He did that killer eyelash look at me again, and I felt something cold trickle through my body. I couldn’t tell if it was the way he looked at me or if my body was purely dreading the end of the story. But I listened.

  “I slept on this tiny air mattress in his living room for the year, and we barely spoke two words to each other. He didn’t get me, and I sure as hell didn’t understand him. How could someone leave his kids like that? How could he look me in the eye every day and not apologize for everything my brother and I went through? My brother, Phoenix, lives in New York now. He got as far away a
s possible. I can’t bring myself to leave, though. Mom will need me again someday when she’s out of the hospital, and without me, she’ll have no one.”

  Tears formed in my eyes, and I felt his hands tremble in mine. I gripped them both tightly and waited for him to go on. If he even had anything else to say. I imagined Porter sitting alone in waiting rooms like this so many nights, how scared he must have been. Porter inhaled a shaky breath, and I could feel the panic building up inside him, the same way it starts to swirl in me. It comes from my toes and bursts out my throat, and I could see it moving through his body like a ripple.

  “Hey,” I said as he shook. “Hey, look at me. Please.”

  His lips trembled, and tears dotted the corners of his eyes. “I’m right here. I’m here with you. Those are memories, they aren’t happening right now. Tell me. Tell me something good that’s happened in the last week.”

  “I-I finished a notebook yesterday,” he said.

  “That’s good,” I said.

  “Luke just has the flu,” he said. I squeezed his hands tighter. His tears dropped into his lap, and the faintest smile started to form on his lips.

  “I’m not alone.”

  * * *

  Luke’s eyes widened in relief when we walked into the room. He had an IV hanging out of his arm to keep him hydrated, and his skin looked like it was starting to go back to its normal color. I took his hand and sat on the edge of his bed.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Better,” he said. And he did look so much better. I only wished we’d come sooner so he didn’t have to be so miserable for so long. “They want to keep me overnight to make sure I keep something down. You two go home; I won’t be any fun here.”

  I ran my hand through his hair. “No, I’ll stay with you.”

  He looked at Porter. “Please, make her go to bed.”

  An unspoken thought passed between them, and we waited for a good half an hour to talk to the doctor and make sure everything was set for us to leave. The doctors predicted that they would discharge him sometime after noon tomorrow and that we should be here to pick him up then. Porter agreed to come since I had class during that time. I kissed Luke good-bye and headed out the same sliding doors I wheeled Luke in so many hours ago.

  Porter drove slowly back to my house, most of Denton asleep for hours already. My dad was most likely up in his recliner, waiting for me to get back with the TV on. If it wasn’t for that fact I would probably have gone to Zoe’s.

  “Oh shoot, my car is at your place,” I said.

  “You’re too tired to drive,” he replied. “Want me to pick you up in the morning so you can take it to class?”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “What time?” he interjected.

  “Is nine okay?” I asked. He nodded. As we drove on I kept going back to the image of Luke sitting in the hospital bed so helpless, or him not being able to keep anything down and apologizing profusely. I shouldn’t have left him there by himself. He would have stayed with me. “I should have stayed there with him.”

  “No, he would have rather had me carry you out than have you stay. He felt bad for the whole day already,” he said. I began to protest, but he reached out and touched my knee, which certainly shut me up. “He’ll be fine.”

  I shifted and his hand fell off, leaving a hot trail down my leg. I crossed them and forced myself to look out the window. I was about two minutes away. I could make it two minutes without talking or looking at him, right?

  Directing people to my house was always difficult at night since all the streets looked the same in the dark. We finally made it down mine, and I could see the flicker of the TV in the living room. I looked at him, not sure what to say. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, and I quickly opened the door.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said.

  “See you tomorrow morning,” he replied. As he pulled out of the driveway I’d never felt so cold.

  I was so tired when I stumbled through the door that I hadn’t noticed my mom waiting up for me on the couch. I froze in the doorframe, as I’d swiftly avoided one-on-one contact with her for the past few weeks. The only reason I was allowed to go on that camping trip with Luke’s family was because Carrie Upton personally called and asked. If it was up to Mom, she would have kept me in this miserable house with her for as long as possible. I attempted to scoot up the stairs without her acknowledging me, but I had no such luck.

  “How is Luke?” she asked.

  I turned around slowly, gauging what my response would be. “He’s spending the night there to make sure that he keeps everything down. We’ll pick him up in the afternoon.”

  “We?” she asked.

  “Me or Porter,” I said.

  “I see,” she said, nodding. I attempted to continue up the stairs, but she stopped me again. “Come here, Danielle. Let’s talk.”

  I walked slowly over to the couch and sat down across from her. We kept a healthy distance between us as I wrapped my legs underneath me, pretzel style.

  “Have you worked on getting your transcripts sent in early to Ohio State?” she asked.

  I kicked myself internally. I’d been so busy with other things that I’d forgotten to ask Professor Harrisburg about sending my projected grade over sooner than the end of the semester.

  “I’ll take your lack of answer as a no,” she said.

  Anger bubbled up inside of me. I didn’t know if I was angrier with her for asking about it again or at myself for letting my relationship drama get in the way of my remembering to ask in the first place.

  “It’s been a long night. Can I please just go to bed?” I asked, no, begged.

  “It’s not that difficult to ask your professor a simple question, Danielle. Or are you trying to ruin your future? I honestly can’t tell at this point,” she said.

  Her words smacked me in the face and caused tears to start forming in my eyes. “I’ve been busy with other things going on in my life. A good mom would know that things have been hard lately.”

  “I didn’t ask you to sit here so you could insult me,” she said.

  “Oh, so you just wanted me to sit here so you could insult me?” I asked. “Right. Duly noted.”

  “You’ve always had such a mouth on you,” she said.

  “I’ve learned it from the best,” I replied, crossing my arms.

  She sat silently for a few moments and rearranged the pillows she was sitting on. I watched the wheels in her mind churning and wondered what she would say back.

  “How did we get to this point where you don’t tell me things?” she asked. “How did I not know that you wanted to be involved with environmental policy? It’s my job to recognize what a kid’s full potential is—what they actually want to do with their lives. How could I have missed yours?”

  “You’ve been busy these last few years. Your business is growing, and with Noah’s acting, we haven’t really had much time for just us,” I said.

  Her shaking hand pinned back a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of her bun, and I saw tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

  “You always said that you wanted to go to Ohio State. You were always so great with language—quick witted and easy to communicate with—I thought you wanted to do communications. Or be a teacher. Remember when you wanted to be an elementary school teacher? That wasn’t that long ago,” she said.

  “That was when I was eleven,” I said.

  “Ohio State was your dream,” she said. “And it had the perfect program.”

  “It wasn’t my dream, Mom; it was yours,” I said, raising my voice a bit. “You were so preoccupied with this image you thought you had of me that you didn’t bother to pay attention to me like one of your clients. Do you know how hurtful that was? How awful it made me feel to have this mom that everyone loved for helping them find the perfect school, for understanding what they really want, and have her not see her own kid like that?”

  “I didn’t know I’d
become such a monster in your eyes,” she said, starting to stand up.

  “Don’t do this,” I said. “Don’t shut me out. It’s not fair to either of us.”

  Her tears streamed down her face now, and I could see her wrestle with the urge to run up the stairs and slam her door like in every other fight or stand her ground. I sure as hell wasn’t leaving. We were in a standoff.

  “I wanted things to be different with us,” she said. “I wanted a different relationship than my mom and I had. That’s why I started working from home—to be closer to you and Noah. But then he was so sick when he was little, and then the business picked up and … and…”

  “Don’t blame this on Noah. That’s not fair to blame it on him,” I said.

  “Our problems with each other have been a two-way street, Danielle. I’m not the only bad guy here,” she said.

  “I’ve apologized to you so many times I can’t even see straight, Mom. I will never be exactly what you want me to be, and, I’ll say it again, I’m sorry about that. But you need to accept me for who I am and what I want to do,” I said. “And, for the record, I would be more than willing to open up to you if you showed any interest.”

  She pulled out the same bobby pin she had been messing around with earlier and put it into her mouth with a shaking hand. She smoothed out the part of her hair that fell out of her bun with two hands before putting it back in its place.

  “I’m going to go to bed if you have nothing else to say,” I said, standing up. I made my way to the foot of the staircase before she spoke up.

  “I am sorry,” she sobbed. “So, so sorry.”

  I turned around to find her with her face in her hands, shoulders bobbing up and down. I froze for a few seconds, thrown off by seeing this woman who had always been full of strength and poise broken down into sobs. I’d never seen her cry like this before, much less over something that I’d said. I walked back over to the couch and sat down right next to her, my arms wrapping themselves tightly around her shaking shoulders.