Page 78 of Liberating Bells
“What! How did you do that?”my little sister asks me over our lunch of grilled cheese and tomato soup. It’s early September now, so the weather is starting to cool off. My mom always celebrates fall by introducing soups and stews to the menu. I’ve been showing Thalia a few basic magic tricks, and they are blowing her mind. Her green eyes are wide, with a mixture of confusion and awe.
"Magic,” I say, wiggling my fingers in front of her.
Thalia pouts, looking at the deck of cards in front of us. It was a simple trick, one I just learned off of a video last night. But I don’t tell her that. Let her be a kid and believe in the magic for a little while longer.
My mom watches us fondly before turning around and working on the dishes. Thalia picks up the deck of cards and attempts to shuffle them. She hasn’t perfected this skill yet, and one card falls into her tomato soup. She quickly picks it up, glancing at me from the corner of her eye to see if I noticed.
I chuckle under my breath, but pretend I didn’t see, taking a big bite of my grilled cheese instead. Can never go wrong with grilled cheese. I don’t care that I’m almost thirty years old. I’ll admit it.
“Can you teach me, Ryno? Please!” she begs me, grabbing a hold of my arm. “I want to be able to show all my friends that I can do magic. Tyler will love it!”
I rub the side of my jaw. “Hm, I don’t know Thalia. Are you sure you can evendomagic?”
She nods fervently. “I can do it! You just have to show me. If you can do it, I can do it!”
I open my mouth to agree, when I hear a crash. My attention is immediately drawn to my mom, standing at the sink. Her hands are braced on the counter, head bowed. I narrow my eyes at her, seeing her sway where she stands.
“Thalia, go to your room for a few minutes,” I instruct. I expect a certain level of refusal from my eight-year-old sister, but she listens to me, to my surprise. Maybe she can hear the desperation in my voice or see that something is definitely not right with our mom.
Her feet patter out of the kitchen, and I stand up, walking over to my mom, right as her knees buckle under her weight. I take a few hurried steps to her, catching her so that she doesn’t crack her head against the floor or a sharp edge.
“Mom!” I exclaim as she collapses into my arms. I carefully lower her to the ground. Her face is pale, eyes closed. I gently pat her cheeks, trying to rouse her. She hasn’t had chemo since Wednesday, so I have no idea if it’s a direct side effect or not. “Mom, wake up!”
I hold her for a few minutes, but she doesn’t rouse. Bending over her, I put my ear next to her nose to ensure she’s still breathing. My fingers find her pulse point on her wrist, then on her neck to double-check. There, but weak. I shift to reach my phone out of my back pocket.
I dial 911 and wait for the operator to pick up. “911, what’s your location?” I give her my mom’s address and explain thesituation. The operator tells me she’s dispatching an ambulance to my mom’s house, and it should just be a few minutes.
Once the call ends, I look down at my mom and stroke her cheek, using the back of my fingers. “Please, be okay.”
The paramedics arrive within a few minutes and shuffle me out of the way to do their exams. They ask me questions about her condition, how long she’s been sick or if she’s ever lost consciousness before. I do my best to answer, but it’s hard since I don’t live with her full time anymore. My hands are shaking, and I’m trying not to pass out myself.
The crew decides they need to take her to the hospital, so they load her up on a stretcher and give me the details for which hospital they’re taking her to. I nod and walk with them as they wheel my mom out to the ambulance. A few minutes later, the rig pulls away, and I bolt back inside.
Thalia has come back downstairs. She’s standing in the kitchen, looking at the place where our mom was just standing. Her little hands are wrung together in front of her, and when she turns her green eyes to me, I can see her fear.
“What happened to Mommy?” she asks me in her little girl voice.
I crouch down, so I’m not talking down to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mommy wasn’t feeling well. Probably from the disease she has. They’re taking her to go see her doctor.”
“Can we go too?” she asks.
I stare at my sister, contemplating, and then nod, knowing that I don’t want to stay here either. “Yeah, go get your shoes. We’ll meet her there.”
Thalia hurries off to find some shoes, and I pull my phone out again to call Derek. He picks up quickly. “Ryan, what’s going on?”
In normal circumstances, I would’ve chuckled—not the warmest greeting from my stepfather. But I never call him. He must know it’s something serious.
“Mom collapsed while doing the dishes,” I tell him. “I caught her before she fell, so she didn’t hit her head, but she wouldn’t wake up. I called an ambulance, and they’re taking her to St. John’s.”
Derek asks a few more questions, and then mumbles a thank you and informs me he will be there shortly. He’s out golfing with his buddies at the club on the other side of town. Even with Thalia and me just leaving now, we’ll probably still beat him there.
Thalia rounds the corner, her pink tennis shoes on, gripping onto a stuffed animal. I don’t say anything as I grab my wallet and keys and load her into my car. She clutches to her animal as we drive. I don’t turn any music on or say much. I know I should try to put on a brave face for my sister, but I can’t. I’m scared too.
I park the car in the visitor’s lot and help Thalia out. Grabbing her hand, we walk into the emergency department. I’m greeted by the desk, and they direct me to the bed that my mother is in. She still hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s hooked up to a bunch of medical machines, measuring her oxygen levels, heart rate, and blood pressure.
Thalia grips my hand tightly, and I curse myself.Jesus, this is no place for a little girl. She doesn’t need to see her mom like this.
For the third time, I pull my phone out and call the only person I can trust in this kind of situation. I’ve only spoken to Izabel a few times since I ran into her at the coffee shop. Occasionally, I’ll wake up at night in a cold sweat thinking about her, wondering if I’m making the right decision with my actions. I’ve been trying to keep a healthy distance but still be open to any communication she initiates. Just like Josie told me, at thevery least, I can be here for her if she needs me. Her wedding is coming up quick, and every time I think about it, I feel sick to my stomach.
