Chapter 3 Antonia
Antonia
My stomach clenched as I pulled into the hospital parking lot.
I told myself there was nothing seriously wrong with Miri because this wasn’t some state-of-the-art hospital.
Honestly, it was nothing compared to the medical facilities we had in Boston.
If Miri was truly sick, I would have packed her things and moved her and the kids to my place.
I walked through the lobby with my phone pressed to my ear, acting like I owned the place. My ankle-length peacoat flowed behind me as I undid my scarf. “Hey, what floor and what room?” I asked as soon as Miri answered.
“Five,” she said, her voice hoarse. I prayed it was just from lack of sleep and nothing more.
It couldn’t possibly be anything else.
I jabbed my finger repeatedly against the elevator button, knowing full well it wouldn’t make the car arrive any faster. Still, it felt satisfying to do it.
“Okay, I’m on my way,” I said before hanging up just as the elevator door opened. I stepped inside, pushed the button for the fifth floor, and then pressed the door-hold button for someone shouting, “Hold the door!”
A doctor stepped in, slightly out of breath. He smiled kindly at me but didn’t press a button for a floor. “Thank you,” he said with a nod. “Sometimes these elevators are so slow.”
“Yeah,” I replied, unsure of what else to say.
He rocked back on his heels and whistled quietly. Here I was, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest, and this man, who was probably tasked with saving people’s lives, didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
“Are those comfortable?” I nodded toward his blue scrubs. “I’ve always wondered.”
He smiled, and I wondered if it was his normal, everyday smile or a practiced one. “They are. I tend to wear them even when I’m not doing my rounds.”
I nodded, remembering what rounds were from the Grey’s Anatomy marathons Miri and I would watch.
Of course, as soon as I thought back to the many nights we’d sat on the couch, eating popcorn or ice cream, I instantly wanted to ask the fine doctor next to me if what we’d seen on the show was accurate.
Was he hooking up with his coworkers in the break rooms?
Instead, I asked, “What’s on the fifth floor?”
He met my gaze, and his demeanor changed. Gone was the sweet smile, replaced by sadness. Before he could tell me what I faced, the doors opened. He nodded and stepped off, leaving me no choice but to follow.
My feet moved slowly as my eyes scanned each room number, studying the three digits as if I couldn’t comprehend them on sight.
When I came to Miri’s room, I stood in the hallway, staring at the curtain surrounding her bed.
My best friend was in there, waiting on me.
She would give me news that my gut told me wouldn’t be good.
With a deep breath, I cleared my throat, stepped in, and walked around the curtain with my brightest smile on my face. I had a role to play, an expectation. I was the happy-go-lucky bestie who didn’t stress about anything but work.
Miri was on her side in a half-fetal position, hooked up to monitors. I ignored them and set my purse on the table before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, bish. What’s up? Flu bug?”
Miri’s eyes watered instantly, and what was left of my heart fell to the ground. I scooted closer to her and ran my fingers over her light-brown hair. Her hazel eyes never left mine. Miri and I had the same eye color, with mine being a smidge darker.
“What’s wrong?” I kept my voice low and barely above a whisper, afraid it would crack.
“I have cancer,” she said, matching my tone.
I nodded and bit my lower lip, and I didn’t even bother trying to fight the tears. “Okay.” It took me a minute or two to get my thoughts together. “We can fight this. Right? We’re a strong team.”
Miri reached for my hand and held it tightly. “I can fight this.”
“And win,” I added. If anything, we had to remain positive. “I guess the first thing we need to do is get you transferred to Boston. I’ll make some calls.”
“I can’t go to Boston.”
“What, why not? Don’t be silly. Boston has the best doctors. You’re not staying here.”
“The kids have school, Toni. I can’t take them out of school.”
Shit.
I nodded. I hadn’t forgotten about them, but I’d definitely forgotten about the logistics of schooling. “I’ll figure it out, Miri. But you have to know I won’t stop at anything to get you the absolute best care. You and I both know it’s not here.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not really.”
“Scoot over,” I told her as I maneuvered my way onto her bed and held her in my arms. This was better for both of us. She didn’t have to see my tears or the fear I was certain my eyes held. “How’d you find out?”
“I had my annual exam last week, and my doctor found a couple of lumps. She sent me for an MRI, and the radiologist didn’t like what he saw, so they admitted me while they ran more tests. I didn’t want to do anything until I knew more.”
I leaned back. “So, you may not even have cancer?”
She gave me a slight shrug.
“Bish, can you be any more dramatic?”
“I could try,” she said, laughing.
We were quiet for a moment, the situation heavily weighing on us. If they wanted to run more tests, then something was wrong. I felt this deeply.
“Are the kids at school?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“Do they know you’re here?”
She shook her head. “Cutter has a game tonight.”
I looked at my watch and saw the time. He was probably on his way home from school.
“How long do you have to stay?”
“They said overnight.”
“Okay.”
Overnight. I wasn’t a doctor, but even I knew that staying overnight for tests was rarely a good sign.
I held her tighter as my mind shifted back and forth from saving her to protecting her kids. The only family Miri and the kids had was me and mine. Her family had kicked her out of the house when they found out she was pregnant at seventeen.
“I’m going to call my mom and have her drive up,” I told Miri. “This way I can be with you, and she can help with Cutter and Nova.”
Miri nodded against my chest. I felt her tears wet my shirt.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Miri. I’ll make sure of it.”
Reluctantly, I had to leave Miri at the hospital. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but she needed me to get Nova off the bus, or the driver wouldn’t let her off, and they’d start calling Miri, asking where she was.
We agreed I wouldn’t tell the kids their mother was in the hospital, at least for tonight.
The ruse would be that Miri had an out-of-town client she had to help with their books.
I told her it was unlikely the kids would buy the lousy excuse, but since it was the middle of January, Miri felt they would, since tax season was right around the corner.
While I sat in the car and waited, I pressed my mother’s name on my phone and waited for the video chat to connect. Before my mom came on the screen, my emotions got the best of me.
“What’s wrong and why are you in the car?”
“I’m at Miri’s,” I managed to squeeze out as my throat seized.
“She’s sick, Mom. I don’t know how sick but sick enough they’re keeping her overnight in the hospital and .
. .” I couldn’t bring myself to say the C word.
Deep down, I figured if I never had to say it, then it wouldn’t come true.
I wouldn’t be putting it out there in the universe for it to be real.
I glanced out the window, at the snow-covered yard, and took a deep shuddering breath. “Mom.”
“I’ll be up tomorrow,” she said without hesitation.
I nodded, unable to find my voice as tears streamed down my face. My reflection in the camera had me wiping angrily at my cheeks, removing my streaked and smeared makeup before the kids saw me.
“I love you, Mom.”
“And I love you. Whatever this is with Miriam, we’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
We hung up, and those final words from my mom lingered in my mind. My parents were one of a kind and had the biggest hearts. From the time Miri was seventeen, my parents had made sure she knew they always had her back.
The rumble of the yellow school bus, caked with mud from the road, caught my attention as it pulled up in front of the dirt driveway. I got out and walked briskly to the edge of the driveway, waving to the driver. She opened the door cautiously.
“Who are you?” She was blunt, which I appreciated. I wouldn’t want any kid getting off the bus with a stranger.
“I’m Nova Vaughn’s aunt,” I told her as I tried to look in the bus for Nova. “I’m on the pickup list.” The driver turned slightly as Nova approached. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Stay there, Nova. I need to call this in.”
I smiled at her. “How was school?”
Nova shrugged and tossed me her backpack.
It was light, except for the metal lunch box she insisted on carrying.
Last summer, when we went school shopping, Miri and I pointed out all these cool insulated lunch bags, but Nova wouldn’t have it.
She wanted to use Miri’s Wonder Woman lunch box.
Miri and I had the same one in first grade, but mine was long gone.
How she’d managed to keep hers all these years was beyond me.
The driver received permission to release Nova into my care, and Miri’s seven-year-old daughter launched herself into my arms when she reached the bottom step of the bus.
Compared to her friends, Nova was petite, with a wiry frame.
She was a carbon copy of Miri with the same light-brown hair that fell in soft waves down her back.
Her hazel eyes always held a hint of mischief.
“Cute pigtails,” I told her as I set her down. I held her hand and slung her backpack over my shoulder.
“Thanks, Mama did them this morning.” Nova skipped the length of their driveway.