Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

  “She’s going to be fine,” Isaac says, his breath catching in his throat. “She has to be fine.”

  He holds me tighter. I feel his tears land on my forehead. As much as I’m hurting, it also hurts to see him so distraught. He’s always the happy one, no matter what. Not today.

  He has gone beyond the call of duty when it comes to Stella. He sat through Princesses on Ice. He has watched every animated movie we own with her a thousand times, although truth be told, I think he enjoyed them as much as she did, if not more. He searched high and low for the perfect puppy for her. I’ll never forget the expression on her face when he brought that little ball of fur into the house. Stella and Yeti were fast friends. She was so happy, which made Isaac happy.

  If something made her happy, Isaac was all over it, even if it meant letting her plaster makeup all over his face. I can still see her applying one color of eye shadow after another to his eyes along with eyeliner that looked as though it were applied using a fat kindergarten-style crayon. She used her artistic skills on me next. We looked like two hookers when she got finished with us. Stella was so proud.

  I fish out my phone and fumble through the photos I have stored until I find one from that day. I show it to Isaac. He giggles, and tears flow down his cheeks. He giggles more and holds me tighter.

  “God, what I wouldn’t give to have her do that again,” he says.

  I wipe my face on my sleeve. “All that was missing was some six-inch pumps, and you’d have been ready for a nice stroll down Second Avenue.”

  “Not funny,” he says, but he can’t fight the grin on his face anymore.

  I wipe his tears. Without him, I would be so lost right now, especially since I scanned past the selfies Theo and I took on our birthday excursions. Isaac leans over and sees them before I can shove my phone deep into my pocket.

  Diane paces the floor, chatting up a storm on her phone. Everyone in the busy room has to listen to her conversation with her husband. She fidgets with her wedding ring, and her hand works its way to her necklace. I grab her arm and force her into the chair next to me. She throws her phone in her purse and wraps her arms around me.

  She squeezes me around the waist. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “She’s all I have.” I choke on my words, and my breath hitches.

  “You have us too, right, Isaac?” Diane asks.

  “Yes, you do,” he says. “And we’ll get through this together.”

  They envelop me in a burrito-style hug. I soak Diane’s blouse with tears. There’s no way I could do this without them. Shelby enters with a cardboard drink holder and four steaming-hot coffees. She shoos Isaac over so she can sit by me and show some love. Diane and Isaac grab coffee cups. Shelby holds one out to me, but I wave her off.

  Jennifer, a man I assume is her husband, and a college-aged girl rush into the waiting room. I can only assume she’s the baby sister I haven’t met yet. Reverend and Mrs. Edwards follow right behind them. They huddle together, and The Reverend leads them in a prayer—a prayer for my little girl, a prayer for Theo, a prayer that probably does not include me. Not that it should. After they finish praying, they continue to stick close to one another. The youngest girl sits in Mrs. Edwards’s lap as though she’s five years old instead of college-aged. She wraps her arms around her mother’s neck. Theo’s mother kisses her baby girl on the cheek.

  Jennifer’s husband hugs her. He runs a hand up and down her back. It’s such a sweet, simple gesture, but I would give anything to have someone comfort me like that right now. They share a hushed conversation. Jennifer buries her head in his chest. He strokes her hair as he continues to whisper to her. I gaze over at this classic Americana painting of the Edwards family and wish I had this loving family to cling to. I guess I never will.

  I’m such a coward. I cannot even go talk to them. They appear as devastated as I feel. Their child and grandchild are hurting. It’s a double whammy. Add them to the list of people that will never forgive me.

  Jennifer catches my eye from across the room. She pats her husband on the shoulder before she strolls up to me. “Can we talk?”

  I know I deserve a serious tongue-lashing, but I don’t think I have the strength to defend myself right now. She does deserve to hear my side of the story, so I follow her out of the waiting room, and we head down the hallway.

  “I know I owe you an explanation. I didn’t know you were his sister. All this happened so suddenly. I didn’t know what to do.”

  She grabs me in a hug, and I hug her back, so thankful that she has crossed the Edwards-Battle barrier. I know I am not worthy of her compassion, but I need it so badly right now. I know it’s Stella who’s in danger, but she’s my life. When she hurts, I hurt.

  “I don’t care, okay? None of that matters. Hey, don’t blame me that I’m good at putting two and two together.”

  I laugh and cry at the same time. “I was so scared you’d tell him before I—”

  “Not my place. There, there. None of this is your fault.”

  “Yes, it is. I let her go against my better judgment. I knew I should have kept her with me.” My words come out all choppy between my short breaths. “As long as she’s with me, she’s fine.”

  I’ve always kept Stella close. Ever since I came to the conclusion that I was going to raise her on my own, I’ve had to be two parents. I had to be the good cop and the bad cop, and the only way I knew how to do that was to keep as close an eye on her as humanly possible at all times. The first day of kindergarten was agonizing. Giving up control to let her do a simple rite of passage like starting school was hard enough. I’m still shocked I let her go across the country with Diane. That didn’t end well.

  “It was a freak accident,” Jennifer says. “It could have happened anywhere. And it doesn’t matter now. Trust the doctors. Trust God.”

  “I’m trying,” I say through another round of tears.

  She hugs me again like a sister would. “Where’s that crazy brother of mine?”

  “He went to donate blood, but it’s been a while. I hope he’s okay.”

  She takes a step backward. “He shouldn’t be giving blood.” She frowns. “But I guess I would too if it were my child.”

  “When the dust settles, if the dust settles, he’s going to hate me.”

  She wipes another tear from my cheek. “One day at a time, Darla. Let’s get through tonight.”

  Theo enters the room, as pale as a ghost, holding a bottle of orange juice.

  Jennifer grabs him in a hug. “How much did they take?”

  “Only a pint. I tried to get them to take more, but they wouldn’t.”

  She slides his hair off his forehead. “Did they check your sugar?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mother. That’s what took so long. It tanked, and my heart rate was off the charts. The bloodletting along with the stress is making it hard to regulate.”

  In my tunnel vision over Stella, I forgot about Theo’s health.

  “But I’m okay now.” He looks at me for the first time. “Any news?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing yet. Thank you, Theo.”

  He takes another gulp of his orange juice. “Dad and Tommy have B positive blood too. If the doctors need more, I’m sure they will be willing to help out.”

  I lean in to hug him, but he backs up and puts his hands out defensively. He juts his chin up and stiffens his spine. “I can’t do this right now. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  I guess I should have expected this reaction, but it still stings. Even though I didn’t plan for the truth to come out like this, I guess I naively assumed it might bring us together.

  “Theo,” Jennifer says.

  He stares at her. “You knew. You knew, and you didn’t tell me.” He sneers at me. Through his clenched jaw, he says, “
I only want to be in the same room with you when we’re discussing Stella’s care plan. You got it?”

  I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. “Got it.”

  He storms away toward the waiting room. Jennifer puts her arm around him, but he snatches it away. I give them a head start back into the waiting room before I slip back into my seat next to Isaac.

  “Focus on Stella,” Isaac says. “Focus.”

  Theo finds a place to sit next to his mother. His little sister moves from their mother’s lap. She sits next to him and holds his hand. His mother wraps her arms around him, and he crumbles in to her. From across the room, I see his entire body tremble from exhaustion, from stress, from such deep sorrow. His little sister rests her head on his shoulder and strokes his hand.

  “Focus,” I reply to Isaac.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Theo

  I huddle between my parents, impatiently waiting for news—waiting to see if my little girl has lost her leg or even worse… if she has lost her life. My mother plays with my hair like she has done a thousand times before. Any time I was ever upset as a child and even as an adult, her fingers would softly comb through my hair, giving me the peace I need. My mother has always been there for me, from skinned knees to diabetes scares, and even through the rare girlfriend breakups. She always knows what to do and say, and she knows when no words are necessary, like now.

  My father holds my hand, and I can feel him silently pray for everyone involved—for Stella, for me, and even for Darla. It’s hard for me to pray for Darla right now. I guess I wasn’t cut out for the ministry like Dad. He treats everyone with equal compassion like the Bible teaches. I can’t forgive her like I know I should. She has had plenty of chances to tell me about Stella, and she chose to keep my child from me.

  I can’t even talk to Jennifer right now. We’ve never had a divide like this before, and it’s killing me. She rests her head on Tommy’s shoulder, and they speak in hushed tones. Her eyes plead for me to talk to her.

  My voice breaks through the silence. “I’m sorry for all this.”

  Mom squeezes my shoulder. “We’re family. We get through things together.”

  “Yeah, but I know this is a lot to digest all at once. I promise you, I didn’t know she was mine. I wouldn’t have kept that from you.”

  “We know, dear.”

  “Don’t be disappointed in me.”

  My mother squeezes my shoulder. “This is a blessing. You have a child, Theo. It’s nothing short of a miracle.”

  “Your mother’s right,” Dad says.

  “It doesn’t feel like a miracle right now.”

  Jennifer wipes her face of tears. “Theo…”

  I peek over at Darla on the other side of the room. She has her knees tucked under her chin, and she turns her head, resting her cheek on them. She seems so devastated, so alone.

  “It will,” Dad says.

  My mother squeezes my shoulder again. “I have a granddaughter, and she’s named after me.” She kisses me on the cheek.

  I grin. I only now realize that. Tommy nudges my foot with his shoe. He winks at me. I think back to the one night I had with Darla. We didn’t share our real names, but somehow, I must have mentioned my mother in a conversation. It warms my cold heart. Stella is named after my mother. Knowing this, it’s wrong for me to stay mad at Darla. I shouldn’t, but I still am.

  Dr. Michaels enters the waiting room. I stand. Darla stands. This is the moment of truth. I can’t read his face. Doctors learn early on the art of a poker face. We can’t let our emotions get the best of us, especially when a family is facing critical news about their child. I’ve been there many times. If the doctor isn’t calm, the parents freak out. This isn’t helping me at all today. Oh, please tell me my daughter made it through the surgery. Please.

  Darla and I meet him halfway across the room.

  “She’s stable.”

  I exhale. I think I’ve been holding my breath ever since she was wheeled into surgery. Darla whimpers and grabs on to my arm. My parents must be saints to have managed all the childhood injuries and illnesses of four kids all these years.

  “We made three incisions, one on her foot and two on her calf. We cleaned out the infection as best we could but left all three incisions open because we will probably have to go back in.”

  “Why?” Darla asks before I can.

  “That’s how this infection works. We think we’ve got it cleaned out, but if one microbe is left, it starts destroying again. We may have to go in multiple times.”

  “What’s next?” I ask, not really wanting to know.

  “Every day is a new challenge. She’ll need to stay sedated and intubated. I need to be honest with you; she is not out of the woods yet. I’d like to talk to you about an unorthodox treatment.”

  Darla’s eyes are full of hope. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a theory. I don’t have scientific evidence, and no clinical trials have ever been done. But the theory is that with high-dose antibiotics, which is standard protocol for infections like this, the immune system kicks in to do its job but creates a severe inflammatory response, causing more damage to surrounding tissue. Sometimes IV steroids suppress the immune system only enough to avoid the inflammation and let the body get rid of the infection one hundred percent.”

  “So, she’s still fighting?” Darla’s hope-filled words ask what I was thinking.

  “Yes, but before we put her under, her vitals were already becoming unstable, and she’s started having hot and cold sweats. We don’t have the luxury to wait and see.”

  Darla and I lock eyes. It’s as if we can read each other’s minds.

  “Do it,” we both say without a second thought.

  “I can’t guarantee that it will work, and it’s very risky.”

  “Do it,” we both say again.

  It’s not much, but I’m thankful Darla and I didn’t argue over the course of action for Stella. It’s nice to have some common ground, even though it’s not enough to make a difference in how I feel about her right now. At least we can come together for Stella.

  The doctor nods. “I should get the culture back tomorrow. If it’s Strep A, I’ll order the steroids and continue with aggressive antibiotics.”

  “Can we see her?” Darla asks, reading my mind again.

  “Remember, she’s sedated and won’t be able to talk to you. And you can only stay for a few minutes. Two visitors at a time. I’ll let you know when you can go in.”

  “You go first,” I say to Darla.

  She shakes her head. “We see her together.”

  I’m not sure if I’m ready to be on team Darla, but maybe a united front is what Stella needs right now. “Okay.”

  Dr. Michaels leaves, and we are left staring at each other. I stand there like a bump on a log with my hands stuffed in my pockets. She checks her watch, glances up at me, and back down at the floor.

  Darla and I tiptoe into Stella’s ICU room. The nurse waves us in. Lots of beeps pierce the otherwise quiet, sterile environment. The nurse checks Stella’s vitals and records her urinary output. She examines each toe and finger.

  “Come on in,” the nurse says to us. “She’s sedated, so she won’t respond to you. Don’t let that scare you. She needs rest, so don’t stay long. Stay clear of her leg too.”

  I put my hands on Darla’s shoulders and guide her closer to Stella’s face, which is covered in beads of sweat. Her sweet cheeks have a deep-red tint to them, and oh, how I wish I could kiss them and wake her up like Sleeping Beauty. I slide a sweaty curl away from her neck. God, she’s burning up.

  “Stella Bella, it’s Mommy. I’m here. You rest and get better, okay?” Darla’s voice cracks.

  I rub her shoulder.

  “I love you, baby. Please
get better. Please.” She kisses Stella’s hand and cheek. “Please be strong and get better. I’m right outside that door, so don’t be scared. I love you so much.” Darla gives me a sad expression before she focuses back on Stella. “Stella, your daddy’s here. You need to get well so you can tell him all about you. He needs to know how special you are.”

  My heart melts. Even though Darla knows how hurt and mad I am at her, she knows exactly what Stella needs right now. It’s all about Stella. That’s what Darla told me once. Nothing else matters.

  Darla motions for me to come closer. “Talk to her,” she whispers as she wipes the tears from her eyes. She knows as well as I do that Stella won’t respond to us, but there’s enough evidence to confirm that patients remember what people say when they’re unconscious.

  I wipe the snot and tears off my face and sit on the bed next to her. Darla places Stella’s hand in mine, and I wrap my fingers around hers.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  Darla smiles.

  “It’s me. We’ve met a few times, and I knew you were special for a reason. I didn’t know why at the time. I’m your… I’m your…”

  I look at Darla. She motions with her head for me to continue.

  “I’m your daddy. And I would love nothing better than for you to get well so we can get that chocolate ice cream we talked about. Okay? So please be brave and strong. I love you, sweet girl.”