Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The screams are coming from the man in the room directly across from us, on the other side of the nurse’s station.
He’s thrashing in bed with two nurses trying to hold him still.
Rose runs down the hall, with Cosmos just behind her, presumably to join the effort.
As soon as they enter the room, they shut the door, and I’m left wondering if everything’s going to be okay.
“What’s that about?” Mom’s voice has a hazy quality to it, like she’s still half asleep.
It’s not clinically provable, but I feel like her symptoms cycle a lot on this drug regimen.
I expected Thursdays to be the worst, since the drug has a cumulative effect and she gets it Monday through Thursday.
Instead, the fatigue hits the hardest over the weekend, like her body is exhausted from processing everything, and when it finally gets a break, it shuts down altogether. Which is where we are right now.
All she wants to do is sleep. Convincing her to wake up for breakfast was torture. Today, our nurse reprimanded me for Mom’s untouched breakfast tray and told me they’d need to put her on a feeding tube if I couldn’t get her to eat more.
I know she didn’t mean it as a threat, but it felt like one, and the weight of it, the responsibility, was crushing.
I tried. Mom ignored me, rolled over, and went back to sleep without saying a word.
It took over an hour to convince her to eat half a banana, and even then, she was angry about it, snapping at me in a way that was totally unlike her.
She’s mellower now. Her eyes are open, but glassy. Her cheeks are sunken. She’s so pale I can see her blue veins. The nurse is right. She needs to eat more.
“How about some orange juice?” I ask now that she’s awake.
She gives me a weak nod. I peel back the top and hand the prepackaged juice to her. It makes me feel a little better that she’s getting a few more calories, especially when I see how badly her hand shakes as she brings the small plastic cup to her lips.
Once she’s asleep again, I try to ignore my curiosity about what’s going on across the hall and work on my novel.
A pointless effort. I’ve apparently forgotten every word in the English language and turned into a slug that can do nothing but smear slime across my computer screen.
What a gross analogy. See, I can’t even come up with a decent analogy anymore.
I sigh and stare off into the empty hallway, hoping the patient across the hall is alright, and that Cosmos can help them.
I wonder what Cosmos is like in action. Is he the reassuringly calm doctor, or the no-nonsense take-charge type?
There’s a confidence and a gentleness to him, and I’m unsure which side would win out when he’s dealing with a patient in crisis.
Then again, the last time I saw him, he was both dominant and gentle at the same time. When he told me to cut his hair, he looked at me like he wanted to devour me, but he was so careful, too, like he saw all of my hurt and didn’t want to push on any of my bruises.
That was days ago, but his eyes are still burned into my memory.
I’ve never seen eyes as dark as his. Brown, like…
rich coffee or my extra-strong hot chocolate.
Ugh, again with the poor analogies. His eyes are…
more like the fertile soil coffee plants need to thrive.
Humus, I think it’s called, or is it loam?
Either way, they’re eyes that make things grow.
I switch over to happilyeveraftercrap.doc, an idea blooming in my mind.
A conversation between the main character and love interest takes shape, and soon I’m typing away.
It’s not a fleshed-out scene, just quick notes and bits of dialogue.
Writing this romance novel is nothing like writing my thesis.
When I’m writing it, I feel the same excitement I get from reading.
I don’t know where it’s going or what’s going to happen next, and I can’t wait to find out.
I want to keep turning pages, or rather, turning out pages.
At the sound of people talking, I look up.
Nurses are slowly filing out of the room across the hall with solemn looks on their faces.
Fear steals my breath as I consider the worst-case scenarios, possibilities that could just as easily happen to Mom as to the person in that room.
Were they screaming because they were in pain, or did something else happen?
What would it take for Mom to scream like that?
When we were first admitted, Mom rated her pain at a nine, but she never screamed.
She clammed up, ground her teeth, and stopped talking altogether.
It was like she was trying to hold back the force of a dam, control her way out of the pain she felt.
Thankfully, she hasn’t been in that kind of pain lately.
She’s just been tired. She can barely make it through a thirty-minute TV show without falling asleep.
But the trial seems to be going well. She hasn’t experienced any of the more extreme side effects, and those she has developed—fatigue, a rash, tremors—have been well controlled with meds and sleep, and, of course, Aunt Joan’s pot brownies.
I don’t feel as panicky as I did when she was first admitted. My breath comes more easily, and my chest isn’t so tight. I don’t hate watching the sunrise anymore. I feel hopeful. There are still plenty of things to feel anxious about, but I can face it all as long as Mom’s okay.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Kiara:
Help! I accidentally told Sullivan about The Book Bar’s open mic tonight, and I got roped into inviting him. You have to come with us!
Pleeeeeaaaaase! I can’t survive a whole evening with him by myself. He’ll want to talk about his cat all night, and I’ll want to rip my ears off.
If you come, I’ll love you forever and ever
I’ll even buy you the fancy edition of Jane Eyre you’ve been wanting
I’ve wanted that edition for a while, but not nearly enough to make me leave Mom.
Cosmos, Rose, and three other nurses come out of the room across the hall and congregate around the nurses’ station, their voices pitched low and private. He looks more worn and tired than he did last time I saw him. I wish I could smooth the crease between his eyebrows and help somehow.
As casually as possible, I stand up and walk to the doorway. I don’t want to be too obvious, but my curiosity and my desire to be closer to Cosmos propel me forward.
After a moment or two of standing there, without Cosmos so much as glancing in my direction, I start to feel awkward and decide to go get some hot chocolate.
I don’t usually start my hot chocolate drip this early in the day, but maybe Cosmos will follow me again, or maybe he’ll still be out in the hall when I get back.
After only a few steps, my phone buzzes, and I stop to check the message. Okay, maybe I’m stalling a little, too, in hopes Cosmos will look at me.
Kiara:
I’ll even give you my signed copy of The Handmaid’s Tale!
Wow, she is desperate. But it’s still not enough. I type a response telling her I can’t go, but another text comes through before I can hit send.
Kiara:
You promised you’d come to one of my readings. I won’t make you read anything. I just need a referee to keep me from ripping out Sullivan’s tongue. Or maiming his cat’s only good leg.
He actually asked if he could bring his cat. Have you ever heard something so ridiculous? A cat at open mic night?!? Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t want to see that.
She sends me a meme of the old Inspector Gadget villain petting his cat.
I picture Sullivan maliciously stroking his calico at The Book Bar, while Kiara recites her poems, which usually push the edge of propriety.
A snorting laugh bursts from me before I cover my mouth with a hand and stifle the noise.
“You know, it’s not healthy to hold it in.” Cosmos’ voice sounds so close I jump, but he’s actually a solid three feet away. I thought he hadn’t noticed me, but here he is, right in front of me, looking at me with that dimpled smirk.
“Excuse me?” I ask as I work to calm my racing heart.
“Your laugh. Better to let it out.”
My cheeks tingle with embarrassment. I’ve always hated the sound of my real laugh.
I usually only relax enough to laugh like that when I’m alone with Mom.
The fatigue is making it harder to keep control of all the things I usually monitor and hide.
I look around, hoping no one’s paying attention to us.
A few of the nurses are still in the hall, but only one of them is looking at us, and she quickly looks away, going back to chatting with the others.
Cosmos takes a half step closer. “So, what made you laugh like that?”
“Oh, well, um… my friend.” I hold up the phone as if that explains things.
“A boyfriend?” He looks down at the floor.
“No. A girl in my MFA program.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that you’re—”
“No! I’m not. We’re not. Not that there’s anything wrong with—I mean—I think it’s great. Love is love and all that. I’m just not—” I must be as red as a lobster. No one in the entire history of the universe has ever been as awkward as I’m being right now.
His eyes spark with amusement. “I was going to say, I didn’t know you’re getting your master’s.”
“Yeah.” I take a breath and let it out slowly, then hold up my phone, waving it through the air. “My friend’s trying to get me to go with her to The Book Bar for open mic tonight.”
“Oh?” His smile turns crooked and devious. “My sister loves that place. Maybe I should take her soon.”
Is he suggesting what I think he’s suggesting? One part of me wants to remind him of his own ethical rules, but the part of me that wants to lick his dimple tells the other part to shut up.
“You should go,” he says. I didn’t think it was possible for his smile to be even more lopsided or his eyes even darker, but they are.
“My mom—”
“Is doing great. According to everything I hear. When was the last time you took a break and got out of the hospital?”
“I left for class on Thursday.” It was only for a few hours, but it counts.
“You don’t have to worry about your mom.
She’ll be well cared for.” He sucks his bottom lip and rubs his chin.
“I won’t be around myself, since I have the night off and…
made plans with my sister.” His implication isn’t as subtle now, but I’m probably reading this situation all wrong. Story of my life.
“Rose will be here, though,” Cosmos continues. “And nothing gets past that woman.”
He looks down the hall, like he’s suddenly nervous to know where Rose is and if she’s watching us.
I don’t blame him. After the incident with the haircut, I looked up the hospital’s policies on romantic relationships.
It was very clear that hospital employees can’t date patients, but there wasn’t much about family members of patients.
A few external websites said that the ethics are basically the same as dealing with a patient, and some people said the doctor could even have his license revoked.
Which made me panic for a moment until I reminded myself that nothing’s happened.
But it feels like we’re walking a line, and I don’t want Cosmos to get in trouble.
Or maybe we’re not walking a line at all, and I’m just reading this all wrong.
It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.
I’m not the best at knowing when someone is flirting and when they’re just being nice, or just want a study partner to figure out a mysterious occurrence.
Not that I’ve been involved in many mysterious occurrences.
I didn’t realize we were staring at each other until he glances away and Dr. Barbie Samantha comes clomping down the hall, her stiletto heels making a prominent clip, clap, clip, clap.
“I heard what happened.” She ignores me and talks directly to Cosmos. “I paged Dr. Newberry about the blood pressure spike. They’re calling cardiology to adjust meds.”
Cosmos looks pointedly from Samantha to me. Her expression changes so fast it nearly gives me whiplash, going from Type-A All Business Resident to Concerned Preschool Teacher faster than I can blink. “Hey, how’s your Mom doing?”
A forced smile tightens my cheeks. “Fine.”
Cosmos turns toward Samantha, angling me out of the conversation, which is fine with me.
I need to get back to Mom anyway and was probably reading way too much into whatever is going on between us.
It’s better if we stop talking now, before I start jumping to even more conclusions.
Or acting on my thoughts. A very bad idea, since most of those thoughts involve a lot of touching… and licking.
I step back into Mom’s room and slowly close the door. My phone vibrates again. Another text from Jeremy.
Ex-Dad:
How’s your mom doing?
Like he cares. I should call him back just to tell him to back off. But that would require a confrontation, and the thought of talking to him makes me immediately exhausted.
I open my text chain with Kiara and tap my phone against my chin, staring at the closed door that stands between me and Cosmos.
“You okay, Hazelnut?” Mom mumbles from the bed.
“Yeah,” I answer, still thinking. “Would you mind if I left for a few hours tonight?”
“Of course not. I probably won’t even know.” She doesn’t mean the words to sting. She just means she’ll sleep the whole time. But somehow the statement makes me feel like all the work I’ve put into taking care of her is unnecessary. Unappreciated. It makes me feel invisible and alone.
Yeah, it would be good for me to get out. I type a quick response to Kiara.
I’ll be there.