Page 74 of Head First
‘She’ll be OK,’ she says, and I don’t know if she says it more for herself than for me.
‘Thank God you called the doctor,’ I say, gently placing a hand on her arm.
Mom starts to cry, which pulls me out of the reverie I’ve been living in for the past twenty hours. My flight to Dallas, my connection back to Columbus, I had remained perfectly stoic the entire time. I watched movies that I didn’t pay attention to and could hardly remember the plot of. I read and reread the same chapters of my book. Now, sitting in my mom’s old Toyota Highlander, I feel my veneer start to crack.
‘I bet it was so scary, Mom,’ I manage to say, although I’m starting to sniffle. I start to cry. She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
‘She’s doing better now. Her blood pressure is back to normal, and she only has a low-grade fever.’
I feel some of my terror start to ebb, but I know I won’t feel relieved until I see Millie myself. ‘That’s good. Is she resting? Can I see her when we get there?’
‘She might be asleep, but we can go in. Visiting hours are from nine to six and . . .’ she pauses and checks her watch ‘ . . . we should arrive right at nine.’
I turn on my phone in the last ten minutes of our drive, expecting Hugh to have messaged me. He hasn’t. I feel rejected and disappointed and hurt. I try to ignore my own feelings, but it’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he didn’t text me to ask about Millie, or if I got home safe.How could I have interpreted his feelings so incorrectly? Why did I believe he really cared about me?I want to throw my phone out the window.
I stare at my phone, relief that Millie is OK giving way to anger. The one thing I really wanted to bring for my sister, the proof she’s been searching for, the reason she sent me on this trip to begin with, Hugh took away from me. Feeling angry with him is better than giving in to the wave of sadness threatening to overwhelm me, so I lean into it, glowering out the window. I don’t want to keep thinking:What if? What if I was honest? What if I didn’t ask Hugh to sign that stupid dive log? Would he still like me? Would I still feel like we had something I’ve never felt before with anyone?
My mom hates silence, so she breaks it after about two minutes. ‘I haven’t even asked you about the trip. I’m sorry everything has been so hectic at home. And you had to come home early—’ She breaks off mid-sentence, glancing over at me with wide eyes.
‘Mom, it’s fine,’ I reassure her. ‘I didn’t have anything to stick around for anyway.’
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, which is not her usual MO, and I know she can hear the underlying sadness in my answer.
‘Did something happen?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘You didn’t find the fish?’
As soon as she asks, it hits me that no one has asked until now. Not her, not my dad, not Millie, which must mean that Millie was really sick, otherwise she would be texting me herself or begging them to do it.
‘I did actually,’ I say, ‘but I don’t have any proof, so it doesn’t count.’
My mom claps her hands together. ‘Millie will be so happy! This is just the news she needs.’
‘But, Mom,’ I say, my voice bordering on a whine, ‘she won’t be happy. I didn’t get anyproof, my sightings are worthless.’
‘Surely someone else saw it too?’ she asks brightly.
I know she’s hoping desperately for something to lift Millie’s spirits, but her question feels like a dagger to my heart. I force myself to shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I mumble.
We pull into the hospital and park, making our way through a maze of garages and elevators and hallways until we meet up with my dad in the waiting room. He’s pacing back and forth.
‘Hi, pumpkin,’ he says, greeting me with a bear hug. I surrender to his smell, which has been the same my whole life. For the first time since I landed, I don’t feel trapped to be back in Columbus. I feel relieved.
‘Millie doesn’t quite look like herself,’ he says, pulling back from our embrace and squinting at me. There are deep lines of worry across his forehead, and his hair looks like he hasn’t combed it in days.
‘OK,’ I say. My voice echoes, sounding small in the hospital hallway.
‘Well . . .’ He pauses, checking his watch, which he’s worn for as long as I can remember. It’s gold and chipped around the edges. ‘We’re right on time. Visiting hours just started.’
I gulp. Now that I’m here, I am overcome with nerves. I drag my feet as I follow my dad towards Millie’s room. There’s a folder outside with her name on it. I try to wriggle behind my mom, but she sidesteps me, forcing me forward.
‘She’ll be so excited to see you,’ Mom reminds me under her breath. She nudges me inside.
Everything smells like disinfectant. The tiles on the floor are scratched and beige coloured. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead.
‘Hi, honey,’ my dad says, pulling up a chair next to the bed. Millie’s reclined underneath hospital blankets. Her skin is pale, and her cheeks look gaunt, like she’s lost ten pounds since I’ve last seen her. Her chest is bandaged, and the gauze is visible under the neckline of her hospital gown. Her eyes are closed.
