Page 45 of A Good Book

“Sweetheart, I love you. It’s going to be okay. I promise.” How could she be so certain?

“Bye.” I hung up the phone.

Everything was the opposite of okay, but I sat in the waiting room before going back to Ben’s room, and I prayed anyway, holding back nothing. I asked God to heal his body, let him hear again, and make his pain go away.

By the time I returned to Ben’s room, he was asleep. So I sat in the chair next to his bed and watched him breathe until my eyes succumbed to sleep, too.

An hour later, his doctor, along with a group of students, came into the room. One student presented his case. She listed the antibiotics he was getting along with steroids for his loss of hearing. A few of the other students took turns listing potential outcomes and other therapies. Then the doctor asked me if I had questions.

“He can barely keep his eyes open. Is that normal?”

“Yes. When the tissue around the brain swells, it can affect the alertness of the brain, which makes it difficult for him to stay awake for long periods.”

I nodded. “His parents are on their way. Will you come back and explain all of this to them when they get here? I’m afraid I’ll forget some of it.”

She smiled. “Of course. And if I’m not here, Dr. Stenson, a fourth-year resident, will update them and answer questions.”

“Thanks. Oh! How long will he be in the hospital?”

“It’s too early to say. A week, maybe two. It depends on how his body responds to the antibiotics and steroids and if there are any other complications. Sometimes full recovery from bacterial meningitis can take several months, but most of that time will hopefully not be in the hospital. One day at a time.”

I returned a slight smile and a tiny nod.

Months.

What would happen with his classes? His scholarship? And how would he understand the lectures if he couldn’t hear?

How will he be a conductor if he can’t hear?

I didn’t want to leave his side. I never knew my happiness was tied so tightly to his, but it was. If he couldn’t be a conductor, I didn’t want to be a psychologist. If he couldn’t listen to music, I never wanted to hear it again. Friends shared good times and bad. I wanted to trade places with him.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

POISON, “EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORN”

Gabby

“Gabby?”

I opened my eyes. Ben’s mom Carmen touched my shoulder.

“Hi. I’m so sorry,” I said as we hugged.

“Don’t apologize, dear.” She released me to hold Ben’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”

That was debatable.

Alan, his dad, stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding his other hand. They were in masks, too.

“He’s been sleeping a lot.”

“Yes. We talked to the doctor in the hallway,” Carmen said. “How long has he been sick?”

My heart sank. “About a week.”

“He should have called me. Why didn’t he go to the doctor? Did he fight you on it?”

I couldn’t look at her, so I bowed my head. “I didn’t know how bad he was. I bought some over-the-counter meds for his sore throat and to help him sleep. My roommate gave them to him. I didn’t see him enough to know things were so bad. I had class, and studying, and …” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I should have known.”

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