Page 73 of Artfully Wild
“I don’t know,” I respond with a shrug. “The last one he had was pretty bad, but I’ve never seen him have a seizure. At least not like the one he had earlier.”
“Not all seizures are the body convulsing. Sometimes they are quiet ones. My mother used to get them. But I never knew either. I never—” she takes a sharp intake of breath. “I never noticed anything.” Tears stream down her face as she chokes down sobs. I’d be crying alongside her if I wasn’t so furious.
“The doctors said he had migraines and he was prescribed medicine that seemed to help,” she sniffles, unashamedly wiping her nose on her sweatshirt sleeve. I turn and grab her a tissue from the check-in desk behind me and give it to her.
After she wipes away her tears and blows her nose she closes her eyes, allowing another moment to dwell in her sorrow. When she opens her eyes, all the despair that was present before is wiped away and is replaced by determination and fire.
She stands from her chair and walks to the desk where a nurse named Jasmine is finishing up the call she was on. I hadn’t really greeted her when we came in. Too much was happening, but she glances at me behind Mary and I offer her a small smile.
I only knew her from a few classes in high school, but we didn’t have the same circle of friends so our paths never crossed outside of class. Her dark skin is mostly covered by her pale blue scrubs and she turns to Jacob’s mother, giving her full attention. Dark circles are present under her eyes and I wonder how long she’s been here.
I try to listen in on what Mary is saying, but I give up after straining to hear her words. From the look on Jasmine’s face, she was at least nice. Most people would have come barging in here demanding answers and I think the reason she is walking back with her head held a little bit higher is because she didn’t.
“She is going to page the doctor and see if there’s an update. She also said she would do that every five minutes until there is one.”
I let out a laugh louder than intended and a few heads turn my way. From stress, from relief that I am not alone, whatever it is, my body wants to release it in laughter apparently.
She takes the seat she left a few minutes ago and sits down with a sigh, pulling out her phone.
“Do you need to call anyone?” I ask her.
“I think I have it taken care of. I called Sophie and asked her to take over the shop tomorrow and I also asked her to see if Axel could watch the store for you.”
I didn’t expect that. “What?”
“Well, I figured you’d be here and might not have thought to get the store covered yet, so I did it for you.”
“When did you even do that? How did you have time between when I called you and now?”
“Honey, there’s a lot of things a mom can do when she has to. And taking care of her babies is one of them.”
I can’t help but smile at her words. It was always obvious that Jacob was a part of the Waters family. But it’s nice to hear I was considered the same in his.
“Where’s Ty?” I blurt before my mind could catch up with my mouth.
“On his way,” she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It must be a weird mix of emotions going through her right now. Confusion and guilt about her son. Worry. Anxiety. Excitement for her husband coming home. And a deep, deep love for both of them.
She gives me a sly look, like she knows something. “You don’t like Ty very much.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
“I don’t,” I admit, because what’s the point of doing anything other than telling the truth?
“He’s a good man. He fights for what he believes in and has a passion very few people in this world have.”
“But why can’t he fight for his son?” I argue, voicing the thoughts I had earlier.
She sighs and lets the silence stretch between us as she thinks of what to say. “A relationship between a father and a son is complicated. As much as one is between a mother and adaughter. But a relationship works from both sides. And when neither side is fighting for it, it’s harder than you imagine.”
“Why doesn’t he fight for him?”
“Hmmm,” she hums like my question amuses her. “It’s funny you ask that, because I also asked both of them that same question.”
I open my mouth to ask her more, but we are interrupted by Dr. Adams walking up to us, clipboard in hand. Her dark hair is slicked back into a low bun, a few strands hanging in her face like she’s been consistently running her hands through it over the last few hours. Deep circles are under her eyes and the anger I had for her earlier is gone.
“Mrs. Sinclair. Miss Waters,” she addresses us. “Jacob did have a seizure,” she confirms. “And I think it’s possible he’s been having them unknowingly for a while.”
“How long is a while?” Mary asks.
“Well, we can’t be completely sure until we can talk to him, but my guess is they’ve been absent or simple focal seizures that can be caused by migraines with an aura.”
