23. Summer 17
Rebecca’s panic continues to rise by the second. I’ve never seen her so scared, but I can see the possibility of her twin not being okay is completely shattering her.
I carefully put on my best brave face, recognizing for once I have to be the one who isn’t terrified. For Rebecca.
I grab Andrew’s wrist and lean toward his chest. “He’s breathing, and he has a pulse. Those are great signs!” Despite my best efforts, my voice shakes a little as I report the news.
“How do we get him to wake up? Oh God! This is all my fault. I’m such an idiot! If I had just slowed down...”
“Becs, this isn’t your fault. He’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I swear God himself was looking out for me at that moment because Andrew wakes up, coughing up water.
Rebecca quickly wraps him up in her arms. “It’s okay. Your big sister is here. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, Andrew. Are you okay? Do we need to call 9-1-1?”
He looks incredibly disoriented. His pupils are huge, his eyes are glassy, and his movements are slow.
I nudge Rebecca a little, indicating we should give him some space. “I think he’s going to be okay, but he almost definitely has a concussion. We should take him to the hospital to get checked out.”
Blinking rapidly, Andrew pushes against Rebecca and me, forcing himself to stand. “I’m fine. Thank you, but it’s going to take more than Rebecca’s elbow to take me out.”
“Clearly not! She just knocked you out cold. We are going to take you to get looked at.”
“Yeah, I smashed your skull in with my elbow! You don’t need to be Mr. Tough Guy right now,” Rebecca croaks.
One look at Rebecca’s face is all it takes to get Andrew to settle back down to the ground. “Fine, but I guarantee you a doctor won’t tell you anything I can’t already tell you. I’m fine.”
Mr. and Mrs. Martin join us in the waiting room as Andrew gets checked out. They’ve been grilling Rebecca and me with lots of questions since they arrived, but they’ve finally quieted down. Now we all just sit in anticipation of the doctor’s opinion.
Andrew steps out of the doors with a piece of paper in hand. He holds it up. “The doctor said it looks like a concussion, but I should be fine. She said to monitor for nausea or memory loss and to expect headaches and trouble concentrating or reading.” He frowns. “No working out for a little while, and I’ll check back in with the doctor in a week.”
Mr. and Mrs. Martin nod vigorously. “Maybe I should go talk to the doctor myself.” Mrs. Martin eagerly begins walking toward the doors Andrew just came through.
He grabs her by the arm holding her back. “It’s all right here, Mom. She even gave me a number to call just in case. If you really feel the need to talk to her, you can call her when we get home.”
The tension in her shoulders visibly releases.
We begin to walk out to our cars, and it’s then that Andrew seems to notice I’m here. He does a double take. “You didn’t have to stay here and wait, Em. Did no one offer to drive you home? It’s been a couple hours. Do your parents know you’re here? You probably missed dinner.” His words spiral in concern, and I’m incredibly impressed he’s able to recognize and process all of this information after what just happened.
I wrap one arm around him in a half hug as we continue through the parking lot. “I just wanted to know you’re okay, Andrew. I texted my parents I was here, and I’ll just eat leftovers when I get home.”
He turns to Rebecca. “Can we stop for some food on the way back?”
She nods anxiously. I can tell she’s still flooded with guilt. “Yeah, whatever you want! Are you hungry? We can pick up a pizza or sandwiches.”
Andrew swivels in my direction. “What do you want, Em?”
I wave my hands out in front of me. “I’m not hungry. I can wait till we get home. It’s not that far.”
Andrew furrows his brows. “It’s after eight o’clock, and you haven’t had dinner yet. I know you’re starving. Let’s get some food.” He assesses me. “I’m going to say you’re in a pizza mood. Who am I kidding? You’re always in a pizza mood!” The smile spreading on my face gives me away.
Rebecca hops in the driver’s seat, and he places his hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the bench seat of his truck. “There’s a Domino’s close by. We can order it now and it should be ready by the time we get there,” he insists.
My stomach growls, and he meets my eyes with a knowing look. I have no choice but to let him take care of me, even though the roles should be reversed after today’s events.
The pizza is really good though, and Andrew was right; I’m always in a pizza mood.