41. Summer
41
SUMMER
T he first sign that something was wrong came in the middle of the night. Ava stirred in her bed, her small body restless against the sheets. I reached over from my chair, brushing her curls back from her damp forehead. Her skin was warmer than usual—too warm.
“Ava, sweetheart,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m hot, Mommy,” she mumbled, her voice weak.
Panic surged through me as I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. She was burning up. The monitors attached to her beeped steadily, but her breathing sounded heavier than before. I grabbed the call button and pressed it, my heart racing as I waited for someone to respond.
Within moments, a nurse entered the room, her face immediately registering concern as she checked Ava’s vitals. “She’s spiking a fever,” the nurse said, her voice calm but firm. “I’ll notify Dr. Taylor.”
I nodded, clutching Ava’s hand tightly. “Mommy’s here, baby,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re going to be okay.”
The next hour passed in a blur. Dr. Taylor arrived, her usual composed demeanor slightly more urgent as she examined Ava. “She’s developed a fever and additional bruising,” Dr. Taylor explained, her words directed at both Enzo and me. He’d arrived minutes after my panicked call, his face tight with worry. “Her platelet levels have dropped even further, and her body is struggling to keep up.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“It means we can’t wait any longer,” Dr. Taylor said. “The surgery needs to happen as soon as possible. It’s the only option to stabilize her condition.”
My breath caught, the reality of her words crashing down on me. I glanced at Enzo, whose jaw was clenched, his hands tightly gripping the back of a chair. He nodded curtly. “How soon can you prepare the OR?”
“Within the hour,” Dr. Taylor replied. “I’ll make the arrangements now.”
As she left, I turned to Enzo, my chest tightening as I saw the storm of emotions in his eyes. “This is happening,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “She’s not ready. I’m not ready.”
“She’s strong, Summer,” he said, but there was an edge of desperation in his voice. “We have to believe she’ll get through this.”
Ava stirred again, her small voice breaking the silence. “Mommy? Daddy?”
I rushed to her side, brushing a hand over her damp forehead. “We’re right here, baby.”
Her blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze tired but trusting. “I don’t feel good.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I said, tears stinging my eyes. “The doctors are going to help you feel better. You’re going to be okay.”
“Promise?” she asked weakly, her tiny hand reaching for mine.
“Promise,” I said, my voice shaking.
Enzo crouched beside her bed, his hand resting gently on her arm. “You’re the bravest kid I know, Ava. And we’re going to be right here with you the whole time.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting closed again as exhaustion overtook her.
The minutes before surgery stretched endlessly. I paced the hallway outside Ava’s room, my mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Enzo stood nearby, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“This isn’t supposed to be happening like this,” he muttered, his voice low but filled with frustration. “She wasn’t supposed to get worse this quickly.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, stopping in front of him.
He looked up, his dark eyes filled with anguish. “I’m a doctor, Summer. I’m supposed to be able to fix things, but I can’t fix this. I’m standing here, completely helpless, while my daughter fights for her life.”
I reached for his hand, my fingers gripping his tightly. “You’re not helpless, Enzo. You’ve been here every step of the way—for her and for me. That means everything.”
Dr. Taylor returned, her expression serious but calm. “It’s time. The surgical team is ready.”
My chest tightened as I nodded, following her back into Ava’s room. Enzo and I stood on either side of her bed, our hands gently touching her arms. She stirred as the nurses prepared her, her small voice breaking the silence. “Are you coming with me?”
“We can’t come into the room with you, baby,” I said, my throat tightening. “But we’ll be waiting right here when you wake up.”
“You’re going to do great,” Enzo added, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “We’ll see you really soon.”
Ava nodded, her trust in us unwavering, and it nearly broke me. As they wheeled her bed toward the OR, I felt like my heart was being carried away with her.
The waiting room felt impossibly cold, the sterile walls closing in as Enzo and I sat side by side. Neither of us spoke, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on our shoulders. Elaine and Richard arrived shortly after, their expressions a mix of worry and determination. Elaine sat beside me, her arm wrapping around my shoulders as I tried to hold myself together.
“She’s a fighter,” Elaine said softly. “She gets that from you.”
I nodded, my tears slipping silently down my cheeks. Enzo stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room, his hands running through his hair. “I can’t just sit here,” he said, his voice raw. “I need to do something.”
“There’s nothing to do right now except wait,” Richard said gently.
Enzo stopped, his hands braced against the back of a chair. “Waiting is the worst part.”
The minutes turned into hours, each one heavier than the last. Messages of support began flooding in on our phones—texts from friends, comments on social media posts, and even strangers reaching out to share their prayers for Ava.
“I had no idea so many people cared,” I whispered, scrolling through the messages with shaky hands.
“They care because of Ava,” Elaine said, smiling softly. “And because they see how much you love her.”
I looked at Enzo, who had finally sat down beside me again, his head in his hands. “We’re not alone in this,” I said quietly.
He looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine. “No, we’re not,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.
When the surgeon finally emerged from the OR, his expression unreadable, I felt the world tilt beneath me. “How is she?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“She made it through the surgery,” he said, his tone measured. “But the next 24 hours are critical. Her body needs to respond well for the surgery to be fully successful.”
Relief and fear crashed over me in equal measure. Enzo reached for my hand, his grip firm as we braced ourselves for what came next.