3. Scarlett
3
SCARLETT
I noticed Ethan wheezing around dinnertime, but now, seated next to the Christmas tree wrapping presents for his friends in school, it's gotten worse. He was happy as a clam, though, sipping hot cocoa with exactly ten mini marshmallows and a candy cane to stir. But my nagging fear of something being wrong with him wouldn't let up.
"You sure you're feeling alright, buddy?" I asked him, noticing how he seemed a bit pale. I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead and he swatted it away.
"Mom, your hand's in the way," he whined, and refocused on his work of taping the colorful Christmas wrapping paper onto the cardboard packaging of the toy squirt gun he picked for his friend Tony. "I'm almost done." Ethan coughed a little and I heard the wheeze in his chest worsen slightly.
"Did you use your inhaler today?" I pushed my finished package to the side, made a mental note to pick up some more ribbons to decorate them, and glanced up at the clock. At seven thirty at night we were usually snuggled in for a movie and a snack before bed. Tonight I chose gift wrapping because I got a pang of guilt after seeing Nicholas Edwards earlier this week in the bakery.
I thought at some point in Ethan's future I'd have to tell him about his father. I hoped he'd be a bit older—enough so to understand why I made the choices I made. And at that point it would be so far in the future that I wouldn't face any backlash from Nick either. But bumping into him scared me. I didn't know what to think. I considered dancing around the subject with Ethan to see how he felt about not knowing about his dad.
However, if he wasn't feeling well, now wasn't the time to bring up a sensitive subject like that. I didn't know when the right moment would ever be. If I, as an adult, couldn't face what I'd done almost eight years later, how could I expect my seven-year-old son to face it?
"Buddy, how about we take a break and just watch a movie. You can have popcorn." I tried to get him up, but he was too intent on finishing his tape job. So I stood up and walked to his bedroom where I last saw his inhaler on his nightstand. The doctors gave it to him six months back when during summer soccer league he had a difficult time breathing. I didn't really think it was asthma back then, but they insisted.
Now I just wanted to stop worrying, so I swiped the inhaler and hurried back to the living room where Ethan sat. The package was finished, but he had his elbows on his knees and the palms of his hands held up his head.
"Do you have a headache? Is everything okay?" I asked him, dropping to my knees.
"My chest feels funny, that's all. And my throat tickles when I breathe." He looked up at me and I noticed his lips looked a little blue, which sent my heart into overdrive.
"Okay, buddy, I want you to lie down on the couch." I wasn't taking no for an answer. I made him stand up then walked him to the couch and put a pillow under his head as he lay down. Then I put his inhaler in his hand and pulled out my phone.
Wheezing was one thing, and some tickling in his throat was okay. But chest pain and blue lips were bad. I didn't have to be a doctor to know that. I slipped out of the room but stayed where I could see him and dialed the number for the hospital's Call-a-Nurse program. It rang several times and I thought I was going to be sent to a voicemail, but after six rings a nurse picked up.
"Call-a-Nurse, this is Tammy," she said cheerily, but I was already panicking.
"Uh, hi…My name is Scarlett Moore. My son Ethan is seven years old. He was diagnosed with asthma over the summer but lately I've noticed him having a hard time breathing. I'm not sure his inhaler is doing anything for him and I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to rush into the hospital if it's nothing." I bit my lip and waited, watching Ethan lie on the couch holding his inhaler to his lips.
"Hi, Ms. Moore, I'm so sorry to hear you're dealing with that. Now tell me a little about your boy: height, weight, and any other symptoms? What medication is he on and how often does he use it?" The nurse sounded very professional and very polite, and I was already starting to feel better.
"Uh, he's forty-six inches tall, and I think around fifty pounds. We haven't had a checkup in a while. He's not as active as he used to be given his asthma, and when he gets rowdy he uses the inhaler, one or two puffs. Albuterol I think…" I was chewing the inside of my cheek raw with worry but this woman was my lifeline.
"And any other symptoms?" she asked again, and I could hear her typing on a keyboard.
"Oh yeah, sorry. Uh, he said his chest feels funny. I'm not sure if that's pain or pressure. And his lips are a little blue. We didn't have anything blue to eat or drink so I'm worried about that."
Ethan coughed a few times, making my heart leap up into my throat, and I heard the nurse mutter something. I wasn't getting a very good feeling about this at all. I feared that maybe I should have just gone straight to the hospital with him.
"Ma'am, if the inhaler isn't relieving the symptoms immediately, my recommendation is to bring him to the hospital. We could have a look-see and find out what's going on. Are you insured?"
The line was so silent and tense I could hear a pin drop. The way he'd been acting all evening had me wringing my hands. If she thought this was serious enough to warrant an emergency room visit, maybe I was stupid for calling this line.
"Ma'am," the nurse said, and I pried my eyes off my son's coughing fit.
"Uh, I'm here."
"Is everything okay? Do you need me to send a an ambulance?" she asked, and I got dizzy for a moment.
"Uh, yes…I think so," I told her. I was in no shape to drive and I knew it. And I was too worried to just sit here doing nothing. "Call the ambulance for me…"
"Alright, ma'am, I'll dispatch an ambulance to your location." She rattled off my address, probably gathered by their caller ID services, and asked me to confirm, and I was already at Ethan's side, brushing his mop of curls off his forehead.
By the time the ambulance got here, I could've driven him myself, but my hands were shaking so badly I had a hard time locking the house up. They let me ride in back beside him as I gave them our health insurance information, but they didn't drive superfast despite the blaring sirens. The paramedics gave Ethan oxygen right away, but they didn't look overly concerned, which helped my anxiety a little, but my palms were still sweaty and my heart still racing when they settled us into a hospital exam room in the emergency department.
Ethan was already starting to perk up a little and feel better as they ran tests. He nodded off to sleep for a while and another nurse came in to ask me more questions. She sat on the stool across the room reserved for doctors while I hovered at the side of Ethan's bed, unable to make myself sit down.
"Ms. Moore, I have a few more questions to ask you about Ethan. Do you mind?" She was a polite woman with long black hair and a pretty smile. She appeared so young I didn't know how she even got to work here, but she didn't appear to be issuing orders or anything, just filling out paperwork.
"Uh, sure," I said, turning to face her. But I stayed right beside him to keep watch.
"Tell me about your family history. Are there any conditions or chronic issues that you know of?" She had her fingers over her keyboard, poised to type in my response but I shook my head.
"Honestly, my family is pretty healthy. My mother had primary hypertension, but it was induced by alcoholism. My father had two heart attacks but those were later in life and brought on by thick blood, not heart disease." I glanced at Ethan. Did they think it was his heart?
She typed away for a second then smiled at me. I hated that smile. Why were people in hospitals always so happy? Didn't they know patients weren't happy to be here and some sympathetic expression would be much more well received?
"And what about Ethan's dad? What's his family history?" She waited while my blood ran cold and I sucked in a breath and held it for a second.
Not only did I not know Ethan's father's history, but if I brought that up here—even so much as uttered his name—the fragile house of cards I'd been sustaining for years would crumble. But not knowing what Nick might have suffered from, or his parents or grandparents, might be killing my boy. This was a knife to my chest.
"Uh," I muttered, swallowing a lump forming in my throat. "I had a one-night stand," I told her. It was the truth, and it was my only choice right now. All I could do was pray their testing would reveal something. Ethan was already looking better. I didn't believe it was something that was life-threatening. If there was even a hint of it, though, I'd tell anyone my secret just to save my boy.
"That's alright…It's an incomplete history but we'll have the best doctor in the state here shortly to look at test results." She turned back to her typing and I got curious.
"What sort of doctor? What sort of tests?" I knew they'd done blood work, chest X-rays—because he complained of the funny feeling—and they were looking at the possibility of an EKG. I didn't think the problem was his heart though. I figured it was his lungs since his lips were blue.
"Dr. Edwards is a cardiologist and he can help radiology interpret the X-rays. We're also going to do an EKG and…"
Her voice faded into the background becoming white noise when I heard Nick's last name and specialty. There was only one Dr. Edwards who was a cardiologist around here. Or maybe there was more than one, but it wasn't likely. My stomach wound up in knots and I thought I'd throw up. I walked to the chair in the corner of the room feeling suddenly lightheaded and sat down. The nurse stood and walked toward me looking concerned.
"Are you alright?" she asked, and I took a few deep breaths.
"It's … uh …"
"Is it Dr. Edwards?" She winced as she spoke. "The nickname people gave him is really awful. He's actually a fantastic guy and an amazing cardiologist. Don't let that bad rumor scare you."
While she was trying to be helpful, it wasn't the scandal he'd been through that worried me. It was the one that we could both go through if my secret got out. And if he was in the same room with my son, he was sure to discover that Ethan was his.
Then what?