Page 80 of One Moment Please
Lennon rolls onto her back, her head sliding off my shoulder and onto my lap as she lets out a funny noise in her sleep. She looks so much like Lynsey. A small ache spreads in my chest as I wonder for the first time if our baby will look like her. Maybe we’ll have nights just like this where the three of us sit on the couch together.
How have I never thought anything like that before?
Lennon mumbles something in her sleep, and Lynsey giggles. I turn to see her brown eyes sparkling with mirth in the dark living room, illuminated only by the TV. “Did she just say something about the Jonas Brothers?”
Lynsey nods, covering her mouth as she tries to stop laughing. “When you were out picking up the pizza, the girls were arguing about which Jonas Brother you looked most like.”
“Why?”
Lynsey shrugs. “Probably because they like you.”
“Well, I like them too,” I reply and move a piece of blond hair off Lennon’s face. “I’ve been around some kids who suck, and these two definitely aren’t like them.”
“Well, be careful because I think Lennonlikeslikes you,” Lynsey interjects, pursing her lips together. “She’s in middle school, and she’s totally boy crazy. She said you were the hot Jonas Brother, for sure.”
My nose wrinkles. “Which one is the hot one?”
She shrugs. “I have no clue…I’m into country music.”
“I’m aware,” I reply with a fond smile.
Lynsey tilts her head and watches me. “You were good with the girls today. Kind of in a gruff, no bullshit grump sort of way but I think they responded well to you.”
I rub my lips together and cringe. “It’s sort of my default.”
“I gathered that the first time we met in the cafeteria.” Lynsey’s belly shakes with quiet laughter, causing Claire to nuzzle deeper onto her bump. She settles her and then turns a quizzical brow to me. “Is that how you were when you worked with kids in Baltimore?” Her eyes are anxious as she holds her breath to await my reaction.
I exhale a long breath, wishing I could avoid this conversation. Considering there’s a sleeping child on me right now, cutting and running would be really dramatic. And maybe if I tell Lynsey a little, she’ll stop being so curious. “I was pretty blunt with my young patients. But that’s because I never believed in treating them like they were kids. They were dealing with heavy, grown-up shit, and they deserved to be addressed like a grown-up. It felt right for me.”
Lynsey nods, rubbing her lips together as she quietly listens.
“And I never patronized them,” I state, recalling so many of the patients I saw in great detail and how some of the hospital staff would talk to them in baby voices. It drove me nuts. “Those kids had gone through enough by the time they got to me that they didn’t need sweet bullshit and nonsense.”
The corner of Lynsey’s mouth tips up into a half-smile. “I’m sure they loved you for that.”
Lennon stirs on my lap, her bare arm slipping from under the covers. I noticed the scar on her upper arm earlier today but didn’t say anything.
My voice is tight when I ask, “Why does Lennon have a PICC line scar near the brachial artery of her arm?”
Lynsey stills on the end of the couch, her eyes falling to her niece and becoming glossy with each passing second. “I should have figured you’d spot that.”
My brow furrows as I await her reply.
Lynsey exhales heavily. “Lennon was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia when she was seven.”
My entire body tenses, knowing instantly what that diagnosis entails.
“Shit,” I murmur.
She chews her lip and stares at the television, the lights of the animated film dancing on her face. “I was working at this rehab clinic after college when my sister called me bawling. She said Lennon was in the ER because her mouth started bleeding at school for no reason, and that the ER was transferring her to Denver for further testing. All we knew at that point was that her labs indicated cancer, and it could be fatal if she wasn’t treated right away.”
A familiar feeling weighs heavily on me as memories of my work at John Hopkins flood back.
“After a bone marrow biopsy, they told us it was SAA and that there were no bone marrow donors who matched her. So our whole family got tested. Thankfully, I was a full match.”
I stare at Lynsey, her anxiety radiating off her as she recounts the painful memory. Slowly, I maneuver my hand from under Lennon to stroke Lynsey’s shoulder. I’m not sure if I do it to comfort her or myself, but when her eyes meet mine, I’m more connected to her than I’ve ever been.
Timing-wise, Lynsey’s past trauma probably matches up pretty closely with my own. My chest aches over that. My pain, her pain. Her sister’s and her parents’ pain. And especially Lennon who was the same age as Julian at the time.
