by Cara Malone
Alex was only too happy to bolt out of the building when class was finished, speed walking to her car as fast as her legs could carry her. Somewhere behind her, Sarah was calling after her—she probably wanted to schedule a study session for their upcoming test—but Alex couldn’t take being on campus a minute longer.
Her chest was feeling tight and her pulse was racing, mimicking the symptoms that Mr. Chase had just described in such vivid detail, except hers were a byproduct of panic, not cardiac arrest. That wasn’t something Alex was used to, and she could feel the effects of tapering off her medication already. Her therapist had said it would take a few weeks, and that she shouldn’t expect it to be easy, but Alex hadn’t been prepared for a day like this. She headed straight for her car and made a mental note to call Sarah later to find out what she wanted.
She reached for the radio and turned on the angriest music she could find, playing it just loud enough that the vibrations from her stereo mixed with the anxiety in her body and made it impossible to tell the two apart. It seemed counterintuitive to lean into the feeling, but after a few minutes of driving down the road with the screeching vocals and heavy vibrations of a metal band, Alex felt calmer. She was having to relearn all of the coping skills that had been rendered irrelevant thanks to the little blue pills that blotted out her emotions, and now they were flooding back in the most unpleasant ways.
By the time Alex got home, her breathing had returned to normal and the anxiety in her chest was nearly gone. She went inside and sighed as she leaned against the doorway to the living room.
Her mother was curled up beneath a lap blanket to ward off the cooler weather, and a pizza box lay open on the coffee table in front of her, a few slices missing. Otherwise, this tableau was exactly the same as Alex always expected to find it, and the product of the hour was a hundred-piece survival kit, complete with a bucket full of freeze-dried and powdered entrees that the host was trying in vain to make appetizing.
“This chicken noodle casserole cooks instantly with just a half-cup of hot water,” she was saying, lifting her spoon and not quite getting up the nerve to taste it on the air.
“Hey, ma,” Alex said. “Order anything good today?”
“They had a really nice Tupperware set a few hours ago,” she said. “Twenty-four pieces, dishwasher safe, BPA-free.”
“Cool,” Alex said. They had at least three other sets stuffed into cabinets in the kitchen, but she didn’t have the energy to hassle her mother about her coping mechanisms today. She came into the living room and asked, “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course, sweetie,” her mom said, gathering up her blanket and clearing a cushion for Alex. “There’s pizza if you want it. It’s just delivery, nothing fancy.”
“Thanks,” Alex said, grabbing a lukewarm slice out of the box.
She ate in silence for a minute or two, watching the Home Shopping Network host heat water in an electric kettle and then demonstrate how a survivalist would reconstitute a packet of peach cobbler. At least that one looked like something you might logically add hot water to.
“So, umm, we talked about cardiac emergencies today in class,” Alex said after she’d finished her first slice of pizza and reached for another one. “It was kind of rough.”
“I tried to warn you,” her mother said, and Alex was surprised to find that her tone was more concerned than judgmental. “I still think you should re-enroll in your art education program. You love teaching.”
“I used to love it,” Alex said. “But things happen and plans change. I think I’m on the right course now, even if it’s hard sometimes.”
Her mother didn’t answer right away, her eyes going back to the television screen where everything was safe and the world made sense as long as she just kept waiting for deals. With a deep breath, Alex reached for the remote and watched her mom’s hand flinch.
She turned off the TV and her mom said, “Please turn that back on. I was watching it.”
“In a minute, ma. I want to talk,” Alex said.
It was her mother’s insistence that she get back to living her life that caused Alex to enroll in the EMT program in the first place, and now even though Megan had broken off whatever it was they were doing and she’d just had a panic attack in her car, she was finally beginning to crawl out of the cocoon she’d wrapped around herself last year. She thought it was time for her mother to begin to do the same, and if she needed someone to kick her into gear too, then Alex was going to try.
“It’s going to sell out,” her mother said a little more insistently, irritation edging into her voice. “That means they’re about to introduce a new product. Turn it back on.”
“In a minute,” Alex said. “I think you’ve been watching too much of this crap.”
“It’s not crap.”
“The entire garage is filled with junk we’re never going to use,” Alex said. “Ma, you have to get off the couch. You need to go back to work and get on with your life.”
Her mother snatched the remote out of Alex’s hand and flipped the television back on. They were still on the survival kit, but a countdown timer had been added to the bottom of the screen just like she predicted.
“They’re not holding my job anymore,” she said. “I lost it months ago.”
“I know,” Alex said. “You could apply for a new job, find something part-time at first.”
“Not today,” she muttered, cradling the remote protectively in her lap.
“Okay, ma,” Alex said. She was still holding a slice of uneaten pizza, but she had no appetite for it anymore. She put it back in the box and stood up. “I’m sorry.”
She went down the hall to her room and closed the door gently, then collapsed on her bed, looking up at the ceiling. A single hot tear fell down the side of her face, and then another, and then she squeezed her eyes shut. This whole living her life without anti-depressants thing was going to be harder than she thought, especially if she couldn’t get her mother on board.
Chapter Seventeen
Megan
The following morning, Megan awoke to her phone ringing. She jerked out of sleep, snatching the phone off her dresser and answering without looking at the caller ID because no one ever called her so early in the morning. With all the anxiety and precautions surrounding the meningitis exposure, she was half worried that someone was calling to deliver her bad news.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Megan,” an unfamiliar female voice said, and it was friendly in a way that made it pretty unlikely that this was the bad kind of early morning phone call. “It’s Krys Stevens from Lakeside Hospital. Do you remember me?”
“Oh, hi Krys,” Megan said, relaxing. “Yes, of course.”
She’d gone back to the hospital a few days ago to steal a few more minutes of Dr. Stevens’ time. They talked about the precautions that the ER had taken after their unwitting exposure to meningitis. Once again, Dr. Stevens had been pulled away when an ambulance arrived, but Megan had given Krys her phone number in case she remembered any more details of the case for her research paper.
“I wanted to let you know we had a second case of bacterial meningitis last night,” Krys said. “A fifteen-year-old who was rushed in with a high fever and vomiting after he left football practice.”
“Oh no,” Megan said.
“He’s going to be fine,” Krys added quickly. “His treatment was started in time and we’re expecting him to make a full recovery.”
“Oh, good,” Megan said with relief. “So was it the same strain of bacteria?”
“Yep, Neisseria,” Krys said. “His school is taking this very seriously. They want to avoid any chance of the disease spreading further, so we’re going to take swabs and order antibiotics for the entire student body, as well as the staff. I figured you’d be interested to hear about it, and if you’re available, we could use extra help on swab day. Are you interested?”
“Hell yeah,” Megan said, putting her hand self-consciously to her mouth a
s she realized that was a less than professional response. She asked, “When?”
“First thing tomorrow,” Krys said. “We had to get the antibiotics shipped in because we don’t normally have large quantities like that on hand, but we can’t put it off long. We’ve already distributed an information sheet to parents so they can look out for any suspicious symptoms in the meantime. So you’re in?”
“Absolutely,” Megan said. She grabbed a sheet of paper off her desk and jotted down the details, including the school’s address, and then hung up the phone with a huge grin on her face. This would make for an excellent learning opportunity, and a very compelling research project that would certainly upstage whatever inconsequential literature review Ivy turned in.
The first thing Megan did was send an email to Dr. Morrow explaining why she would be absent from his lecture tomorrow. The second thing she did was call Alex. She knew she shouldn’t do anything to draw Alex back into the romantic direction that they’d been going in, but Megan still liked her as a friend and this would be a fantastic learning experience for her, too.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Megan asked before Alex even had a chance to say hello.
“Well, there’s no class tomorrow so I guess that means it’s grocery shopping day,” Alex said, sounding a little wary of Megan’s upbeat tone. “Why? What are you doing tomorrow?”
“We are going on a field trip,” Megan said. “You can grocery shop afterward.”
“Okay,” Alex said warily. “Umm, about the coffee shop—”
“Do you think we could just be friends?” Megan asked. “I really like you, but it sounds like between us we have too much baggage for anything more.”
“Yeah,” Alex said slowly. “I guess that sounds like a good idea.”
Megan filled Alex in on the details of swab day, then she hung up to let Alex get to class. Going into the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before heading to the library as usual, Megan ran into Chloe. She was in the middle of her own morning routine, leaning over the kitchen counter and studying her notes while she waited for the coffee to brew. When Megan walked in, she immediately looked up and smiled at her.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she said. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“Nothing much,” she said. “Class as usual, then studying as usual. You?”
It was kind of nice to get back into the routine of studying. She’d underestimated the amount of time she’d spent talking to—and thinking about—Alex last week, and it was time to buckle down and think about protecting her class rank.
“Same,” Chloe said. “I’m really looking forward to Dr. Morrow’s lecture on proteinase-activated receptors in the respiratory system.”
“Yeah,” Megan said, “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
Chloe went over to the coffee pot and filled a travel mug, then asked Megan if she wanted one. Megan nodded and Chloe filled hers up, too, carefully mixing in the exact proportion of cream and sugar that Megan liked. She thought briefly about not inviting Chloe to swab day tomorrow. Dr. Stevens had said they needed all the help they could get, and that she could bring her medical school friends, but there was something about letting Chloe interact with Alex that unsettled her.
It was silly, of course, because she wouldn’t think twice about introducing Chloe to any of her other platonic friends. She reasoned that it was just because she couldn’t immediately turn off her attraction for Alex. Deciding to be friends with her wasn’t the same as flipping a switch and no longer wanting to be with her—it would just take time.
“Hey,” she said casually as Chloe handed her the mug. “There was another meningitis case last night. I guess the high school is testing its entire student body just to be safe and I’m going to help with the swabs. Do you want to come?”
“When?” Chloe asked as she went over to the dining table and started to pack up her books for the day’s classes.
“Tomorrow,” Megan said. “First thing in the morning.”
“During lecture?”
“Yeah,” Megan answered.
Chloe looked at her as if she’d just suggested that they go outside and slash some tires instead of asking her to skip a lecture class. She looked a little disappointed as she said, “No, I better skip it. Have fun.”
And for some irritating reason, Megan felt relieved.
Chapter Eighteen
Alex
The next day, Alex woke up with more purpose than she’d felt in a long time. Megan picked her up in front of her house before the sun had risen to drive over to the high school. Megan was wearing her white coat and glowing with excitement, eager to get some practical experience, and Alex was relieved to have another chance at undoing the mess she’d created when they were in the coffee shop. She didn’t want to push Megan away, and spending the day as friends, getting a little practical work experience at the same time, seemed like a good enough start toward that goal.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I help?” Alex asked as they pulled into a packed parking lot. “I’m just a student.”
“So am I,” Megan said, shooting her a butterfly-inducing smile across the center console.
It made Alex nostalgic for their brief flirtation, but she was critically low on friends—she couldn’t afford to reject Megan’s suggestion that they cool things off for a while. It was probably a good idea, anyway—Megan was right about Alex’s issues, but she wondered about the baggage that Megan alluded to as her own. Was a bad breakup really enough to turn Megan off dating permanently? She couldn’t think about that now, though, because they were about to head into the fray.
“You’re a medical student,” Alex said. “It’s different.”
“Well, you’re a third of the way to being an EMT,” Megan pointed out. “I’m not even close to a third of the way to being a doctor. Besides, we’re just going to be swabbing people all day. You’re not afraid of getting puked on, are you?”
“No,” Alex said, remembering their conversation from the coffee shop and shooting back, “Are you?”
“I would always prefer not to be,” Megan said with a laugh, “but I’m not afraid. Come on.”
They went inside and found the gymnasium, which had been temporarily converted into a treatment center. There were row upon row of tables set up in the large space, a masked volunteer sitting at each one. A couple hundred students were sitting in the bleachers, waiting for their turn to be swabbed and sent back to class.
“Wow,” Alex said, taking in the scene. “It’s like the beginning of an outbreak movie in here.”
“They don’t seem too concerned,” Megan said, nodding at the students in the bleachers. She was right—most of them were laughing with their friends, or texting, or just enjoying this interruption to their class schedules.
As Alex scanned the crowd, a thin woman with dark, glossy hair pulled back into a ponytail approached them, giving Megan a grin that briefly stirred something akin to jealousy in Alex’s stomach.
“Alex, this is Dr. Stevens,” Megan said, making the introduction.
“Krys, please,” the doctor answered, shaking Alex’s hand and then gesturing around the gym. “Well, what do you think?”
“Pretty impressive,” Megan said.
“Overwhelming,” Alex squeaked, and they both gave her a little chuckle.
“Alex is an EMT student. I brought her along since you said you’d take extra volunteers,” Megan said. “So how can we help?”
“Grab a table and start swabbing kids,” Krys said.
She led them over to an open table near the bleachers and showed them how to check off each student’s name on a printed list and then label the swab vials for analysis at the lab. Then she waved their first student over, demonstrated the swabbing technique, and walked away to make sure the whole operation was running smoothly.
“Well, she’s efficient,” Alex said with a laugh as she labeled the swab that Krys had handed her and then put the vial in a box at the end of th
e table.
“She has to be,” Megan said. “She works in the ER.”
They sent their first kid reluctantly back to his calculus class, despite protestations that he’d rather have a dozen more swabs, and then Megan waved the next one over. Check mark. Swab. Label. Dismiss. They repeated this process, working effectively as a team for about an hour.
Just when Alex thought that the crowd on the bleachers was beginning to dwindle, a new set of students came and filled them back up again and she realized that they were being sent to the gym in shifts. That was okay, though, because as repetitive as the work was, Megan made it fun. She chatted with the students and teased Alex about her penmanship on the vials (“You try to write on something that’s half an inch wide and cylindrical,” Alex retorted) and the time flew by.
It was a little after eleven when Alex couldn’t ignore her need for a break any longer, leaving Megan to happily keep swabbing while Alex searched for the restroom. She was just washing her hands at the sink when a girl rushed into the room, heading into the nearest stall and slamming the door. Alex tensed, wondering if she was about to be sick, but instead she heard the faint sounds of crying—the girl was clearly trying her best to conceal her tears.
Alex went over to the stall door, feeling awkward as she knocked on it and said, “Hey, are you alright?”
“Yeah,” the girl said. “Can you just, like, go away?”
“Umm, yeah I can,” Alex said, but she didn’t move. It seemed wrong to just leave her crying in there without any idea what was wrong. If she’d just broken up with her boyfriend or something like that, then her friends would be along shortly to comfort her. If it was anything more serious, then Alex didn’t know how she felt about leaving her alone. “Do you want to talk?”
“Not really,” the girl said, a sharp teenager’s attitude cutting into her voice.
Alex took a step away, about to leave after all, when the stall door opened and the girl came out. This time when she spoke, Alex could hear fear and panic that were all too familiar. “You’re one of the doctors, aren’t you?”