Page 5 of Swerve
We sit for a while, Katie holding onto my hand now, as if she doesn’t want me to let go. When the time feels right, I say, “Is it okay if I ask your mom to come in now?”
She nods once, and I get up to go outside the room and get her.
An hour later, I leave Katie’s bedside feeling optimistic that she will get through this because she’s opened the door and let her mother back in. I’m hopeful that they can hold on to each other. They’re going to need to.
I’m headed for the nurses’ station when my phone beeps. Mia’s picture flashes on the screen in a FaceTime call. I step into a nearby linen closet and answer.
“Hey,” I say. “Are y’all having a good time?”
“Hey, Em,” Mia says, her voice infused with laughter and cotton candy and the kind of teenage fun I’m happy she wants to experience. Witnessing Katie’s despair just now makes me realize how unnatural it is for someone their age to be filled with anything other than joy.
Grace sticks her face on screen and says, “Hi, Emory! Wish you could have come. The festival is amazing.”
“Glad you’re enjoying it, Grace. What’s the best thing so far?”
“The lead singer in the first band,” Mia pipes up, her sunshine blonde hair glistening under the festival lights behind them. “Oh, and the cotton candy. You should have come with us.”
Is the note of accusation my imagination? “You know I would have if I hadn’t had to work.”
“You always have to work,” Mia says with a blend of resignation and disappointment.
“Food on the table,” I say.
“Yeah, but you never get to have any fun.”
“I’m off this weekend,” I say. “Why don’t we plan something?”
“Like what?” she says, attempting not to sound too excited. I feel a stab of guilt for the fact that I’ve made such promises before only to get called in and have to cancel them. “We could go to Virginia Beach. Maybe spend Saturday night?”
“Really?” Mia ditches her indifference now. “That would be awesome. Can Pounce come?”
“You think he’d like the sand?”
“He would if I’m there. And I just got him that cool new cat harness.”
“Cats don’t like the beach, Mia,” Grace chimes in.
“My cat is no ordinary cat,” Mia defends.
“I will have to agree with you on that one,” I say. “What time will you be home tonight?”
“Is midnight okay?”
“As long as it’s no later. You have school tomorrow.”
“Will do, Doc.”
“I’ll be home about eleven-thirty,” I say.
“You don’t have to wait up,” Mia says.
“I will,” I say. We both know I have to know she’s home before I can go to sleep.
“Okay. Later, sis,” Mia says.
Grace pops back on the screen. “Bye, Emory! We won’t talk to strangers!”
“Good deal,” I say, smiling at her teasing. It’s the last thing I always tell Mia before she leaves the house to go out even though we both know it’s something of a ridiculous request in an age where they talk to strangers on their phones 24-7. “You two have fun.” I click off and put my phone in the pocket of my white coat.
