Chapter 6
six
MAYA
Ellie’s in the kitchen, already chopping apples when we get inside. It’s clear from the pallor of her skin, she isn’t feeling better. Maybe even worse.
Guilt surges in me. When we talked on the phone about bringing Poppy over, I assumed that meant Ellie was doing well.
“Go sit down.” I nudge her gently and take over with the knife. “Poppy, I hope you’re okay with apples for dinner. This is all we’re going to be eating for the next month.”
She giggles. “Can you do the peanut butter and special toppings like Daddy?”
“Umm—”
“It’s just that almond butter and coconut. It’s all on the counter,” Ellie says from the couch. The heating pad is already out. I watch her maneuver it around her hip.
What worries me the most is that Ellie doesn’t usually lose her appetite when she has a flare, but when I offer her a snack, she tells me that she hasn’t been able to keep food down all day. I’m just glad she was able to get some rest. Theo still has Stevie, I guess they went for a drive somewhere.
Poppy and I join Ellie on the couch once we’ve had a few bites, and I ask Poppy if she wants to explain what happened today. But her confidence from earlier seems to have faded a bit.
She snuggles into me, tilting her head down. “You can tell her.”
So I do. And to our shock, Ellie cracks up.
“Why are you laughing?” Poppy asks.
“Because when I was your age, kids didn’t understand me either. And I wish I had the ba– guts to tell them they were being ignorant. You, my dear, are a very smart girl. And I can’t wait for you to teach Stevie all you know.”
Poppy beams. “Did they call you a robot too?”
“No, not a robot, but it’s all the same, hun. Kids say mean things because they don’t know any better. And most of the time you just have to ignore them.”
Poppy looks thoughtful for a moment, like she’s really trying to absorb the lesson. Then she turns to me.
“Did you ever get not understood?”
“Oh, all the time, sweetie. I changed schools almost every year of my life. Kids made fun of me because I didn’t know the language, or because I looked different than them, or just because I was new when they had all been friends for years. You know, one time I told a friend that I was allergic to dandelions, and she proceeded to rub one all over my face because she wanted to see what would happen. We all had to deal with dummies at some point.”
“But you look perfect. Like a princess. You don’t have a machine in your arm.” She touches the pod that sits just above her elbow. When she grows up, it’ll be less noticeable, but it’s huge on her tiny body.
“Perfect? Kids will always find something to pick at. For me, it was my hair. It took me many years to learn to love my curls, sweetie.” I pull Poppy onto my lap and give her a tight squeeze. “And that little machine keeps you alive. Isn’t that amazing? I mean, you basically have a secret weapon.”
“Really?” She tilts her head all the way back to look at me and knocks my chin.
“Really. Here, let me show you something.” I set her down on the couch and get up to find my purse. When I come back, I have my inhaler in hand. “This is my secret weapon.”
“What is it?”
“It’s my inhaler. I have asthma, which means sometimes it’s hard for me to breathe.” I make a quick demonstration of how lungs work and then squeeze my hand into a fist to show what happens during an asthma attack.
“So you just stop breathing? Like when you hold your breath in the pool?”
“Not exactly. It just makes breathing harder, like after you’re running or playing and you feel out of breath. But then when I use this, I can breathe easy again.”
Poppy takes the inhaler out of my hand to examine it, just as Ellie excuses herself to go to the bathroom.
“But you don’t have to wear it. You can hide it if you want.”
I think about the years in college when every other girl wore a tiny wristlet but I had to carry a purse big enough to fit my albuterol. But she’s right, I’m not exactly scarred from that.
“You’re right, I can. Most people never need to know. But sometimes, when your illness is invisible, it just makes things harder.” The amount of times I’ve heard people tell Ellie she doesn’t look sick comes to mind. Maybe if she had a little pod in her arm labeled lupus warrior , people wouldn’t question her pain so much.
I think I’ve lost Poppy at this point. She looks more confused than thoughtful, and I realize she may need to be a little older to have the invisible disability conversation. Time to pivot.
“Look, the important thing here is that you should never feel bad about yourself. Your pod is part of you, and you are amazing.” She grins wide and I wonder at what age you stop blindly believing in compliments. When do we become so jaded that we stop thinking we’re amazing even when someone says it right to our face? God knows, I wouldn’t believe it. I’ve learned the hard way about hidden motives.
“And,” I continue. “When your feelings get hurt, and when they’re just too big to contain, sometimes the best medicine is to dance it out.”
“Dancing?” she asks.
“Yep. Ellie and I learned from two very wise women that after a really tough day, the best thing to do is dance it out. I’ll show you.”
I flip on the playlist that Ellie and I have shared since college, titled Meredith & Christina . We both add to it sporadically, which I’ve especially loved these past two years when we haven’t been able to see each other as often as we’d like. Every time she adds a new song, I’ll know exactly how she’s feeling, what emotions she’s going through. I hope we keep up the tradition forever.
“In My Dreams,” our favorite Kennedy Rhodes song, streams through the bluetooth speaker on their coffee table. I take Poppy’s hands in mine as we bounce to the music and I sing along.
Ellie comes back from the bathroom, her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head. I know without asking that she was throwing up. But she puts on a brave face and joins us with a strained wiggle of her hips.
“Did Maya add you to our dance-it-out club?”
“Yes!” Poppy cheers. She lets go of my hands and starts dancing around the room.
She gets it.
She’s letting it all go.
Ellie and I look at each other and so much passes between our eyes. There’s joy for Poppy, but fear for herself. My best friend is terrified. She’s going through something that no amount of dancing can fix. And I so desperately want to help her.
After a few songs and a very winded Poppy, she reminds me that I promised glitter. Ellie, god bless her, has been laying down on the couch but pops up just enough to let me know where her craft supplies are.
I love that I knew she’d have them. Neither of us are particularly artistic, unless you count her coding ability, but we both have always found crafting incredibly therapeutic. In college, we would bedazzle our books and crochet mini farm animals while the rest of the undergrads went out drinking. I still have zero regrets.
Today, we decide to add a few rhinestones to Poppy’s sneakers, creating a heart pattern. She asks if hearts are too girly and I tell her that it’s always okay to love love.
I wonder what it’s like for her without her mom around. Ellie let me know she hasn’t been in the picture for years. But then I think, I barely had either parent around, so at the very least, Poppy will be better off than I was. And based on the pink eyelash sweater she’s wearing with her silver jeans right now, I don’t think Liam has been doing anything to inhibit her femininity.
We’re eating dino nuggets and practicing braids when Theo and Stevie get home.
“Ellie’s upstairs resting,” I tell him. Then I immediately get on the floor and give Stevie a big kiss.
“Shoot,” he says. “I kind of have a surprise for her.”
“I’ll go get her,” I say. But when I do, Ellie doesn’t want to get up, and I can tell her skin is feverish. She’s not in good shape. But we’re only going downstairs, and knowing the kind of guy Theo is, I’m positive his surprise will cheer her up.
And in Theo’s defense, he really did come through, because my jaw is on the floor when we get downstairs. Not only is he holding the fluffiest puppy in his arms I’ve ever seen, but Ellie’s brother Ezra is standing beside him, holding Poppy on his hip. Another, fully grown dog stands by his side, the infamous Desiree. She was the ring bearer at Ellie’s wedding.
I watch the scene before me unfold, hoping for tears of joy. Theo explains that the same breeder where Ezra got his dog Desiree had called him to ask if he could take this pup. She was born blind in one eye and couldn’t be sold. But she’s six months old and fully house trained. He starts to ramble at this point, listing off all the reasons they’ll love this dog.
But then he says, “I wanted you to have someone here with you when I can’t be. Plus, she’s like a heating pad that’s always charged.”
And Ellie does burst into tears, but not the kind I’d hoped for. Her expression mimics a wild animal caught in a trap.
Theo stutters, trying to find the right words, but before he can get anything out, she runs back up the stairs.