Friday, May 26
“Nadia? Nadia, how are you?”
My ears are still ringing as I blink out of the light sleep I’ve been drifting in and out of involuntarily for the last day. Through the wash of sound, I can hear her voice. Gentle and deep.
“I’m Dr. Willis. Sorry to wake you up, I know you’ve had a rough morning. Can you see me okay?” A woman with soft gray waves is sitting beside where I lie in a hospital bed.
“Hi, Doctor.” My voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far off inside my skull.
Dr. Willis pulls a stool up to the edge of my hospital bed and looks at me with genuine, soft concern. “Feeling okay?”
I nod then try to lift a hand to my face but the wires and tubes connected to my arm snag painfully. I let out an anxious squeal of hurt and fear. Dr. Willis jumps up to help me untangle myself. When she settles back onto her stool, she leans folded hands onto the side of my hospital bed.
“Your sister let us know about your diagnosis and correct medication regimen, and she put us in contact with your rheumatologist. We discussed the elevated levels of protein in your urine, indicating some potential renal damage due to systemic lupus erythematosus. Does that sound right?”
I nod.
“Okay.” Dr. Willis gives my bed a little maternal pat. “Nadia, yesterday you had what’s called a tonic-clonic, or grand mal, seizure.”
“A seizure?” I repeat. Why couldn’t I remember that? Wouldn’t I remember that? All I can remember is feeling thirsty and scared; Mike’s arms under me and then the back seat of his car.
“This is not uncommon in lupus patients who have very high levels of inflammation.”
Very high levels of inflammation. “I’ve been forgetting to take my medicine.”
Dr. Willis bobs her head. “Okay. I’ll note that in your chart, thank you. We’re going to keep you overnight again and run some tests. I ordered a chest X-ray so we can see if you have any inflammation in your lungs or heart, as well as a brain scan. I’d also like to run another round of blood work, but we can do that tomorrow. For now, let’s get you rested, okay?” She watches me for a moment longer, her eyes unreadable. “I know it’s a lot. Do you have any questions or concerns?”
“Maybe . . .” I run my tongue, dry and chalky, over my bottom lip. “Where am I?”
Dr. Willis looks startled, then she lets out a small laugh. “God, right. University of Penn hospital, dear.” She pats the edge of the bed before getting to her feet. There’s a nurse in maroon scrubs standing off to the side, typing at a computer. I hadn’t noticed her at all. How long has she been here?
How long have I been here?
Does Marco know?
Marco.
Hot tears burn my eyes. “I did this to myself.”
Dr. Willis pauses with her hand on the doorknob. She turns back to face me. “Regardless of whether or not you’ve been taking your medicine, you did not do this. Sometimes things happen and no one’s to blame. Try and get some rest, okay? You don’t need to figure out everything right now, and tonight you don’t need to focus on anything other than trying to get some food down.”
She leaves me alone in the yellow room.
Soon, I fall back asleep.
I wake up an unknowable amount of time later to Liv pacing at the foot of my bed, walking and speed-whispering into her phone. Then, she sees me watching her and quickly hangs up.
“Finally,” she says, rushing over to my side. “I was just checking in with everyone. Nicky’s on his way.”
“What time is it?” My voice comes out hoarse and broken.
“Five-thirty in the afternoon.”
“Oh my God—”
“Don’t freak. You have to stay calm.” She thrusts a paper cup of ice water into my hands.
“Stay clam,” I say.
“What? You need to hydrate, right now. You’ve been in and out of sleep for twenty hours.”
I obey. Has water always been this good? I drain the cup, and she brings me another. “I’m sorry,” I say when she hands it to me. “I’m so sorry.” Why is this the only thing I can say?
“Enough, okay?” She pushes the tears off my cheeks, strong arms encircling my head. I wrap a feeble arm around her waist and pull her to me. Liv shifts her weight away, and I notice she’s standing strangely, a fist pressed into her hip, like she’s reinforcing her lower back. Her shirt billows slightly, and suddenly everything about her shape seems different.
Without thinking, I reach out and press my other hand against her stomach. It’s hard and domed, a strange sensation underneath my fingers, but instead of pulling away, I press into her. Her stomach presses back.
Liv gasps and jolts away from me, grabbing me by the wrist. “What’re you doing?”
“Your stomach.” I reach out for her again, but she evades my touch.
“Stop it.”
I blink. Everything is foggy, light. The room feels like it’s made of cotton. Nicky’s on the way. But where’s Marco? Why is my sister standing like that, leaning from foot to foot?
“Liv, are you pregnant?”
She turns away, back toward the sink, getting me another cup of water. “Not now, Nadia.”
“You are, aren’t you?”
Liv leans heavily into the sink before bringing her eyes—her stunning eyes even more aquamarine as they glisten with tears—back up to mine. “That’s why I kept calling you. I was nervous—scared, actually—to tell you, but it was getting harder and harder to hide. I wanted us to just stop fighting, a-and I couldn’t do this without you anymore, Nadia. I just couldn’t.”
Fuck.
For days, my sister was desperately trying to reach me for the very same reason I’d driven to Philly when I could barely stay vertical: she’d needed her sister.
“You called me,” I murmur, tears burning at the corners of my eyes now.
“Of course I did, you fucking moron. Who else would I call?”
“I am so sorry, Liv. I am so, so—”
She slams a balled fist down onto the edge of the sink, cutting me off. It’s a dramatic action, but it makes only a muffled thunk. “When people love you, they need you. They expect things of you.” Liv makes an irritated swipe at her eyes before pushing off the edge of the sink. “We needed you.”
I’m moved into a better room—a bigger room with a perfect view of the Schuylkill River Trail and the lit-up cityscape. Liv takes my phone and promises me she’ll handle texting everyone. If I have missed calls or messages from Marco, she doesn’t let on, and I’m so grateful.
Just for a little while, I don’t think I can be trusted to function as an adult. I entrust myself fully to Liv. She fluffs my pillow, brushes my hair, puts a little bit of Aquaphor on my lips. She talks on the phone nonstop. I hear her describe the way I looked and how I crumbled to the ground about fifteen different ways.
Visiting hours end, but we tell the nurse that Liv’s pregnant and she brings us two dinners and promises she won’t rat us out. Liv kicks off her shoes, unbuttons her jeans, and climbs into the bed next to me. I want to rest my hand over her stomach so badly. I want to know everything about this magic thing that’s happening between us, quietly, while she flips through TV shows.
“Should we watch Law & Order or Bones?” she asks while I shift to make more room for her.
“Bones. Definitely Bones.”
“David Boreanaz is such a babe.”
Without thinking, I say, “I think Marco and I are over.”
She dismisses me with a brisk shake of her head. “We’ll think about that later.”
It’s decided, then. The show begins, the theme song playing, the premise set up. There are bones that need to be Bones’d.
Liv fiddles absently with the tape on the back of my hand. From the side, she really looks like our mom. Everything’s fuzzy again—but a good fuzzy. Fuzzy like sleep after a long day.
“Remember when we used to share a bedroom?” I ask, my voice already fading away. I hope this doesn’t scare her. I’m okay, I think. Just tired.
“Uh huh,” she huffs. She doesn’t take her eyes off the TV. “That fucking sucked.”