Page 15 of Pumped

“I want mommy and daddy!” she cries.

“I know, sweetie, I do too.” I rub circles across her back as her tears trail down my neck and soak into the collar of my shirt.

“Where are they? Why aren’t they here?” She kicks her heels and they land painfully on my lower back.

“I don’t know where they are, sweetie. But we’re going to find them, ’kay?”

Owen glares at me, lips pressed into a flat line and hands curled into fists at his sides. I glare back. What does he expect me to say? That we’re never going to find them because they’re in heaven now? No, thank you. I’m not going to be the bad guy here. He can play that role.

“We should go,” Owen bites out. He scans the room before grabbing Ivy’s pink and rainbow backpack and fills it with a few toys and some books. He snatches Zuzi from the floor where Ivy dropped it and squeezes past me and out of the room.

I carry Ivy downstairs. Owen’s banging around in the kitchen, pulling snacks from the pantry and fruit from the fridge. He stuffs it all into Ivy’s backpack and fills her little pink water bottle.

In one swift motion, as if he’s going into battle, he swings her backpack onto his shoulder as he marches out to the foyer. I hold Ivy in my arms as he struggles to put her shoes on, then he shoves her coat at me with a look that says “you deal with this.”

“I’m calling a car.” Then he opens the front door and flees out into the early morning air.

Carefully, I bend down and set Ivy on her feet. Her face is wet and blotchy. Her bottom lip is still trembling. My heart breaks to see her like this. I mean, I’ve seen her cry before, obviously. Butthis is different. This is fear and confusion and a touch too much understanding that makes it all so much worse.

I wipe her chubby soft cheeks with my thumbs, then hold out her coat. “Come on, Ivy-bear. Let’s see if we can find your mommy and daddy.”

Her movements are sluggish as she threads her arms through the sleeves, and the moment the jacket is on, she scrambles to be picked up again. I carry her outside. Owen locks the front door. We climb into the backseat of the rideshare that pulls up.

The drive to the hospital is silent save for the radio playing quietly in the background. When the car pulls up in front of the hospital, I awkwardly climb out with Ivy still attached to my front.

“My mom and dad should be here by now. Your parents are on their way down. I tried calling you last night, by the way. You didn’t pick up,” Owen rattles off as he speed walks through the hospital hallways.

I rush to keep up, trying to pull my phone out of my back pocket without dropping Ivy. The screen is black and no amount of tapping will get it to light up. “It’s out of battery,” I shoot back. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

The elevator doors open and he steps in first, punching the button for the eighth floor. “More than you do,” he mutters.

When the elevator spits us out, Owen leads the way down the hall, slowing as he approaches an open door. He stops in front of it, but he doesn’t go in.

When I look inside, I can’t really tell what I’m looking at. It takes my brain a second to piece together the scene. But when I finally do, I squeeze Ivy so hard she whimpers.

“Sorry, sorry, sweetie.” I’m in a daze as my feet carry me inside.

Eden—my beautiful big sister—is lying on the bed, hooked up to all these machines. They beep and whir and there’s a screen showing the steady beating of her heart.

“Mommy?” Ivy lets go of me and reaches for her, straining so far away from me that I almost drop her.

“Careful, Ivy-bear,” I say, shifting her weight in my arms and stepping closer to the bed.

“Mommy? Wake up. Mommy, it’s me. Wake up!” Ivy squirms, desperate to be let down.

“It’s okay, you can put her on the bed.” The gentle voice comes from Alyssa, Owen and Jeremy’s mom.

I hadn’t even noticed her and her husband, Martin, sitting next to the bed.

She puts a hand on my arm, her expression full of grief and sadness.

“Mommy!” Ivy squirms again and I let her crawl onto the bed next to Eden. She shakes Eden’s shoulder. “Mommy! Why won’t you wake up?”

“Ivy, my dear,” Alyssa steps in and I stumble backward, struggling to breathe.

“Grammy, why won’t Mommy wake up?”

“I’m afraid she’s not going to, sweetie.”

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