Page 12 of It Happened In Paris

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but Paris is severely anemic. We aren’t sure, but it could indicate a more serious issue like kidney disease, and further tests are needed. She’ll need a blood transfusion immediately,” Dr. Adler stated. Only the news didn’t register at first, like I was suspended between the perfect little world we had created and the intimidating reality beyond this moment.

“Oh. Okay. I could have her back to the clinic in an hour.” I peeked over at her, cozy under a blanket. Her tiny snores filled the space. We could head to the clinic, deal with that, and be home in time for dinner when I’d make her favoritecroque monsieur.

Wait. Did the doctor say something about kidneys?

“Actually, Paris is AB negative, a very rare blood type, and our supply here is depleted. In her condition, fresh whole blood from a live donor is the best option,” she explained.

I offered mine, as casually as offering a pastry sample to a new customer, saying, “I believe I’m type A positive. Would that work?” After all, what did a transfusion really involve?

The doctor clarified that Paris could only receive AB negative or another negative blood type. “Your daughter needs this right away, Vivian. I’ve arranged everything for you at AlbanyMedical Center, where they’ll manage the procedure along with additional testing and treatment.”

“What?” I stuttered as the weight of all the words finally hit me, dragging my thoughts from a brief detachment straight into deep worry. Tears welled up as I yearned to reach for my precious child, to shield her from this ordeal. “But she seems fine. I mean, sometimes she doesn’t eat much, but?—”

“The signs were probably there, but too subtle and easy to pass off. Fatigue, lack of appetite, fevers, nighttime bathroom trips.”

“Oh, my God. All of that…” My heart sank. “Why didn’t I question any of these things?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re here now, and we’ll figure this out. I’ve already sent her records to Albany, and I’ll be available to coordinate with the doctors as needed,” she continued, though all I could do was stare at my sleeping daughter and wish I could trade places with her.

The next hour became a blur. With Paris’ condition deemed too weak for me to risk driving her, just in case, the doctors arranged for a life flight to transport us to Albany Medical Center.

Once again, I found myself aboard a helicopter. This time, however, I clutched Paris’s hand as if it were my lifeline, mindful of the IV the EMTs had inserted into her. While I was nervous on the inside, my daughter faced everything like it was one big, thrilling adventure. She stared out of the window on the left side of her bed, her eyes wide with wonder until the constant drone of the machine lulled her back to sleep.

I used the quiet time to quickly send a text to my ex in France—Adrien deserved to know what was happening with our daughter. Of course, I didn’t get an immediate reply, but that wasn’t surprising. Besides sending money on rare occasions, he’d mostly stepped aside, barely involved in our lives.

He’d flown to the states twice on business since we moved here, each time meeting us in the city for dinner. When I took Paris to France last summer, he was hardly around, sparing little time for her. He’d call on holidays, and Paris knew him as her father, addressed him as such, but she’d never really had a relationship with him of any substance.

I could have taken him to court for more money over the years, but his business ventures never did well. Besides, the energy it would take to fight him was more drama I didn’t need in my life. There were so many regrets I had about marrying him, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past.

Next, I texted my brother. Keaton was away skiing near Denver over the New Year with friends. He sent a text back assuring me he would fly home immediately if needed. He was set to return in a few days anyway, so I told him not to worry, and I promised to keep him updated on Paris’s condition.

Besides, he had his own venture to tend to, the Holly Creek Hops Brewery which had fast become a popular establishment when he opened it a few years ago. It didn’t hurt the business at all that he was one of 8 bachelors in the reality TV show, Brewed for Love, last year, which featured micro-brewery bachelors competing for beautiful bachelorettes. He came in as a runner up, but with his good looks and charm, his internet celebrity status prevailed.

Someday, he’d find someone and start his own family. He deserved that. So I would never want us to be a burden to him.

After that, I reached out to Chelsea, though I hated to interrupt her newlywed bliss. She and Rex were enjoying an extended honeymoon in the Maldives, sailing and living their dream. Who knew when she’d receive my messages? I wouldn’t blame her if I didn’t hear back for a while—if I had just married a man like Rex, my phone would be the last thing I’d give attention to.

Aside from Keaton, Chelsea’s family was my closest connection. I loved her siblings, Maisy and Colt, too, but they no longer lived in Holly Creek, what with Maisy working somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere on a science vessel, and Colt in the military.

I thought about texting their mother next, but knowing that Aunt Flora would worry excessively, I decided to wait until I had more details. As my mother’s sister, she was like a second mother to me and Keaton, and Paris called her Gramma Flora. We made it a point to see her for dinner at her Flora’s Diner in town at least once a week.

That was all. With just a few texts, my entire family was informed of the situation, leaving me on my own again. A less resilient woman might have buckled under the pressure and stress of single motherhood, but not me. I didn’t have the luxury.

I’d made the mistake of falling in love with a man who I shouldn’t have, but I survived it. Somehow, I would get through this too, taking care of my daughter by myself.

“We’ll be landing in about five minutes,” the EMT announced, waking Paris.

“Hi sweetie. Almost there,” I said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. The day I took a pregnancy test about a month or so after I’d returned to Adrien, I was so ecstatic. In the midst of our reunion, falling madly in love all over again, he and I hadn’t been careful enough with protection.

At first, Adrien seemed hesitant about my pregnancy, but soon he became fascinated by the changes in my body. He promised things would be better between us. Before the baby came, he swept me off my feet with a whirlwind wedding, and things were grand at first. It didn’t last.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the bad times reared their ugliness in my thoughts, but I quickly brushed them awaybefore Paris could notice my sadness. Her attention fixated on the view out the window, anyway.

What was going through her mind? Was she scared? How could a child comprehend all of this? Yes, I’d had to be strong for us for so long, but there were occasional moments like this when I wished for a different life, where I had someone to help share the burden.

If I could ever trust a man again, what would that even feel like to have someone in our lives to care for us like we deserved?

The helicopter touched down on the hospital rooftop in Albany, jolting me.Stop it, Vivian.Right now, my daughter needed me fully present and anchored in the moment, not lost in a past I couldn’t change or a fantasy where the perfect man existed who could love us both.

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