Page 77 of Lily In The Valley
I wiped my eyes again, inhaled then exhaled. “Fine. I’ll take the rest of the week. I’ll be back Monday, ready to go.”
She shook her head side to side, standing. “I’m placing you on required leave of absence. At least a month. At that time, we’ll map out a return to work plan, contingent upon clearance from a licensed therapist.”
“Why are you punishing me?”
“You’re not being punished,” she added gently. “You’re being preserved.”
I left the hospital after speaking with HR, a numbness settling into my bones. The world outside didn’t care that a little boy died. It was still sunny. People smiled. Laughed. Lived. I wanted to scream at them. How dare you? Don’t you know the world stopped?
I walked Karter through the same three blocks that became our routine loop. Past a yoga studio. Past Still + Stirred. He barked at a crow. I didn’t stop him. When we got back to our apartment, there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I opened it slowly.
A delivery man stood there with a potted plant. A peace lily. Bright green, tall, blooming.
“Kelly Reid?”
I nodded, confused.
He held it out gently, like it was a newborn.
“Someone sent this for you.”
“Who?”
“No note.”
He handed over the pot, tipped his hat, then left. I stood there in the doorway for too long, clutching another living thing I didn’t ask for. Karter nipped at my heels as I closed the door, locking it behind me. I placed the pot on the coffee table. Karter sniffed it, sneezed, then trotted back to his cage. The plant sat there, glowing green against the shadows of the apartment.
It felt offensive.
I went into the kitchen to fix Karter’s food and water. Then I glanced back. The plant stared at me. Alive. Steady. Needing things. Things I didn’t have the capacity to give. I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in. That little girl on the boat screamed. I tripped over Karter’s water bowl, stepping into the spilled water. Something in me finally gave out.
I turned, grabbed the lily, and hurled it at the wall. The crash was sharp, immediate. Karter yelped from his cage. Ceramic exploded into shards. Soil spilled like blood. Leaves bent, broke, and curled; the stems snapped in half.
My knees buckled. I hit the floor hard. My hands tingled. My arms wouldn’t move. My chest wouldn’t expand. I was breathing. I had to be. But I couldn’t feel it.
I tried to scream, but my jaw locked. My fingers clawed at the floor, desperate for something to ground me.
What’s happening? What’s happening?
The ceiling tilted. The air was thick. My heart slammed against my ribs hard as I pleaded with it to stop. I reached for my phone. Crawled across the floor, ceramic shards digging into my knees. I called Vanessa. No answer. Nyah. Voicemail. Lynn.Nothing. I pressed the last name in my call history. One I’d declined since being in Seattle.
“Hello?” my father’s voice crackled through the line, sleep coating it. “Kelly?”
I couldn’t speak. Just wheezed.
“Baby girl?” he asked again. His tone shifted. Panicked. “Kelly-girl, what’s wrong?”
“I–I c-can’t–” I gasped, the words broken. “I can’t–breathe–I don’t–know–dying.”
“Okay. It’s okay,” he said, fully alert. “You’re okay, baby girl. It’s probably a panic attack. You’re not dying. Listen to me, baby girl. Breathe with Daddy, okay. Just in and out, slow like when you were little and had nightmares. Remember?”
I clutched the phone like it was oxygen. My vision blurred as I struggled to breathe.
“Kelly, you hear me? In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three.”
My breath hitched. All my years of medical training were out the window. I clawed at my throat as the burn engulfed my chest. I managed to croak out, “Daddy…help.”
“I’m booking a flight right now. You hear me? I’m coming.”
