EIGHTEEN

Weathering the Storm

By the time I got to her booth, Nannabeth had already been taken away, so I grabbed the first cab I could to the local hospital. When I race into the emergency room I’m so full of fear and concern I can barely breathe. I’m sure the receptionist is used to people showing up out of their minds with worry and demanding answers, and yet she sees something in my face that makes her hold up her hands before I’ve even opened my mouth.

“Ma’am, just calm –”

“Elizabeth Shannon. Where is she?”

“She’s with the doctors, so if you’ll just take a –”

“What happened? What’s her condition? Is she conscious? Is she...?” The word won’t even get past my throat. I can’t comprehend a world in which Nannabeth doesn’t exist. I just can’t. She has to be okay.

“Are you a relative?”

I nod, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. “I’m her granddaughter.” When I say that, I realize I need to call Asha to let her know what’s going on. She’ll probably want to come back.

Wait, no. She’ll cry, and if she cries then I’ll cry, and I can do that right now. I need to be strong.

“Miss?”

I glance up to see the receptionist holding out a clipboard. “If you could fill in these forms and give us Elizabeth’s details, I’ll get you some news as soon as I can.”

“Nannabeth,” I say, my tone clipped.

“I’m sorry?”

“She doesn’t like being called Elizabeth. Said that’s the name of a queen, and she’s barely a lady. Her name is Nannabeth.”

Her expression softens. “Of course. Just take a seat, and I’ll try to find out Nannabeth’s condition.”

I wander over to the plastic chairs and sit, my breathing ragged as I write in answers. I don’t know her insurance details or even if she has insurance. As far as I know, she’s never been in a hospital before today. For my whole life, she’s been the healthiest person I’ve ever met.

I pause when I get to the question about next of kin. It’s such a weird phrase. It should have a subheading that reads, Who should we call if your loved one dies?

My hands get clammy, and I wipe them on my jeans before attempting to write my name. My hand is shaking so hard, it’s barely legible. When I finish, I go and put the clipboard back on the receptionist’s desk. There’s a different lady now, and she takes it without looking at me.

I sit back down in the uncomfortable plastic and close my eyes. The room is spinning, and the last thing I need right now is to pass out, so I take deep breaths and lean down to get my head below my heart.

I keep telling myself she’ll be fine and that she’s one of the strongest people I know. At Mom’s funeral she was the only one who wasn’t blubbering. Asha was nine at the time, and I was eleven. I’d held Asha’s hand, and we both cried our eyes out as Nannabeth said a few words to the small crowd, which not surprisingly didn’t include my father.

A few weeks later when I asked Nan about controlling her tears, she said, “Sweetheart, I’m a person who cries at everything, so I’ve learned to cry at nothing.” I’d begged her to teach me, but she said no, because hardening your heart isn’t something kids should do.

I did it anyway. I never wanted to feel anything as deeply as I felt that day. So every time I’d feel too scared, or angry, or sad, to keep it inside I did this thing where I’d visualize I was on the deck of a ship being hammered by a vicious storm. I’d see myself diving into the ocean and swimming deep underwater. Even though I could see the mayhem above, everything was muffled and quiet down there, and as long as I could hold my breath, I could watch the boat get destroyed from a safe distance, without ever being in danger.

Right now I’m trying to see that boat, but I can’t. All I see is the storm.

“Eden?”

I look up and see Max standing there, wearing blue scrubs and a white jacket. He even has a stethoscope around his neck. My confusion must show on my face, because he shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “They wouldn’t let me go in, because I wasn’t family, so I improvised. I’ve played a doctor a few times. I know how to fake it.”

For some reason, that makes me laugh, but it’s too shrill and high-pitched, and Max looks at me in concern. Then I feel bad, because Nan could be in there dying, and I’m out here laughing with my ... well ... whatever Max is to me.

“They won’t tell me anything,” I say. “What’s going on?”

He squats in front of me and takes my hands, but I pull back. He can’t touch me right now. No one can.

He frowns then says, “They think she passed out because of low blood sugar. When she fell ... I couldn’t get to her in time.” He looks at me like what he’s about to say will push me over the edge. “Her head smashed into the pavement. Her brain is so swollen that ...” Guilt etches into his expression. “Eden, she’s in a coma. When I left they were taking her for a CT and an MRI.”

She’s in a coma.

I try to process that and can’t. My Nan is a dynamo. A seventy-five-year-old force of nature. She can’t be in a coma. It’s not possible.

“She fainted because of low blood sugar?”

“They think so, yes.”

She hadn’t had her morning coffee with three sugars. I didn’t bring her breakfast. If it weren’t for me snooping around in Max’s warehouse instead of being there for her, none of this would have happened. We’d be in her booth, selling second-hand stuff to hipsters for stupidly inflated prices.

The guilt twists through me, adding another layer to my increasing anxiety.

“Eden?”

When I open my eyes, Max looks at me like he’s afraid I’ll crumble into an emotional heap. He doesn’t understand how long and hard I’ve fought to train myself for these kinds of situations. Father who didn’t love me. Mother who died. Nan who ...

I close my eyes and make myself see the boat in the storm. I become the girl on the deck and sigh in relief as I dive into the dark, muffled waters.

When I open my eyes, I can breathe again. “When can I see her?”

Max seems taken aback by my sudden calm. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Do you need anything? A coffee? Something to eat?” I shake my head. “Have you called Asha? Would you like me to?” I shake my head again. “So, you’ve called her?”

His constant questions are irritating me. “It will ruin her trip.”

“You know your sister better than I do, but if I were her ...” His voice is quiet, but I hear the judgement in it, loud and clear.

I don’t want him here hovering and judging and making me weak. I’d rather deal with this alone. It’s what I’m used to.

“Everything’s fine, Max. Thanks for coming.” I try to be warm and dismissive at the same time, but I think I just end up being the second thing. Still, it has the desired effect because he steps back.

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll get out of your hair. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

He pushes through the doors leading into the emergency area, and a ball of lead falls into my stomach as I watch him go.

I don’t need him, I repeat to myself, over and over again. There’s only room beneath this boat for one person, and that’s me.

I don’t need him.

* * *

It’s three hours later when I’m shown into a room in the ICU to see Nan for the first time. I clench my jaw against the sight of her in a huge bed, tubes poking out of her mouth, nose, and arms, surrounded by machines. She’s always been my superwoman role model. If I did nothing else in my life but grow up to be like her, I could die a happy woman. But seeing her now, so pale, and small, and ... broken, my only wish is to be in that bed instead of her.

“She’s stable for now,” the doctor says in hushed tones, “and we’ve relieved the pressure on her brain, so now we just have to be patient.”

“How long will she remain in a coma?”

“I don’t know. Everyone heals at their own pace. Even if she wakes up, there may be some issues related to possible brain damage. Impaired speech, memory loss, partial paralysis. We just don’t know for sure yet.”

“When she wakes.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said if she wakes. But you meant when, right?”

He gives me a reassuring smile. “Of course. From what you’ve told me, she’s a strong woman. If anyone can get through this, she can.” Then he gives my arm a squeeze and leaves me there, staring at Nan and feeling more and more useless by the second.

A nurse is taking readings from machines and writing stuff down. She looks over at me and gestures for me to come closer.

“You can sit with her,” she says, indicating the chair near the window. “It helps if you talk to her.”

I sleepwalk to the chair and sink into it. “What do I talk about?”

“Anything. Tell her about your day. The doctors believe that talking to coma patients helps them wake up.”

She finishes up what she’s doing and gives me a smile before she leaves. Then it’s just me and Nan, and the scraping and beeping of the machines around us.

Okay. I’ll just talk like she’s not lying there half-dead.

“Hey, Nan.” My voice is tight. I try to swallow, but I have zero saliva, so my tongue feels three sizes too big for my mouth. “How’s it going?”

I didn’t think I’d ever miss Nan’s incessant chatter, but right now I’d give anything to hear her say just one word.

I try again, while attempting to keep my tone light. “You know, I’ve never really thought of you as a tubes and machines kind of girl, but I have to say, you pull it off. I take issue with the dowdy gown, but otherwise, you’re really rocking the hospital chic.”

In my mind she agrees with me, and that makes me smile. But it’s one of those smiles that you know is fragile, like a mask, and it’s just one half-breath away from splintering in two.

“So, listen ... I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but ... I love you.” I stroke her hand over and over again. “You make the world a better place, so just ... stay ... okay? Stay with me.”

My throat tightens, but I refuse to cry. “The nurse said it would be helpful for me to talk to you, so I will. I’ll talk until I lose my voice. Here goes.” I take a deep breath. “I found this website the other day for beekeepers called ‘To Bee or not to Bee’, which is all kinds of adorable, but I didn’t get around to telling you about it.” I grab my phone and bring it up in the browser. “But we have plenty of time now, so just lie back and relax, and I’ll tell you what they have to say.” I clear my throat. “To bee, or not to bee, that is the question ...”

* * *

When I open my eyes, I see a large red-headed male nurse taking Nan’s vitals. I blink and cough to get the dryness out of my throat. “Morning.”

He smiles. “Hey.”

I look down at myself, bent out of shape in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. I’m wrapped in a blanket, which is weird, because I didn’t go to sleep with one.

The nurse checks the saline drip then mutters, “Be right back,” before leaving the room.

“Morning, Nan,” I say, as I stretch up and wince when my back cracks. “Did you see how hard that nurse was flirting with me? Shameless. Then again, he is pretty cute. Maybe I’ll throw over that Max guy for him. I mean, he won’t earn as much, but with his red hair and my fiery locks? We could make the ultimate ginger child. Can you imagine? The kid would be unstoppable. Sure, he’d survive by feeding on the souls of his enemies and burst into flames in full sunlight, but still. Super Ginger!”

The nurse comes back in and hands me a leather duffle bag. Max’s duffle bag. I look at it in confusion.

“Your brother left this for you.”

“My ... brother. Right.”

He goes to Nan’s drip and swaps out the saline bag. “He’s hot. And sweet. I practically swooned when he came in with a blanket and tucked you in. Not enough men like him around. Is he single?”

Well, there goes my super-baby idea.

Then the gears in my brain start to grind, and I shake my head to understand what he just said. “Wait, Max gave me this blanket?”

“Yeah. Sat and talked with your gran while you were asleep, too.” He finishes up with the drip and scribbles something on Nan’s chart. “What I wouldn’t give for my brother to be more like him.”

I lean down and open the bag. On the top of a pile of my clothes is a handwritten note.

 

Hey, Eden.

I hope you’re doing okay.

I thought you might like a change of clothes and some toiletries, considering you’ll want to stay with your Nan. I hope you don’t mind that I conned the super of you building into letting into your apartment. In case he says anything, the FBI agent apologized for thinking you owned bomb-making equipment and were a threat to national security. If he gives you any trouble, let me know. Agent Richards can always make a return visit to set him straight.

I hope Nannabeth is doing better today.

Please let me know if you need anything. I’m just a phone call away.

Max x

 

“You okay?”

I look up to see the nurse staring at me.

“Uh ... yeah, I’m fine.”

He gives me a sympathetic look. “Miss your brother, huh?”

I nod and pack the note away. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

* * *

For three days I live at the hospital. I get used to washing up in the public bathroom, grabbing takeout food from the cafeteria, and sleeping in the cot they set up for me. I talk to Nan all day long about anything and everything that comes to mind. I make up stories about amazing men I’m going to date and have children with, because really, if anything’s going to call her back from the great beyond, it will be the prospect of me finally ending my filthy single-lady ways and settling down.

Toby has been running interference for me at work, but even so, I knew I couldn’t avoid Derek forever. When my phone lights up with his number on the afternoon of the third day, I sigh and answer it.

“Hey, Derek.”

“Eden. Hi.” His voice is strange. Soft. Not pissed off. And he used my first name.

Oh, God, is he firing me?

“Look,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I know my partial draft was due yesterday, but I have a lot going on right now, so if you could –”

“Eden, it’s fine. I’m not calling to harass you.”

“You’re not?” Now I’m more confused than worried.

“Toby used every excuse in the book to explain where you’ve been for the past few days, but he finally spilled the beans about your grandmother. I just wanted to call and send you some good thought. I lost my gran two years ago, so I sympathize with what you’re going through. I really hope she pulls through.”

That was the last thing I expected from him. I slump back into my chair. “Thanks, Derek. That means a lot.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m giving you a free pass on the story, mind you. But it does mean you can have some extra time. Where are you with your research?”

“I have everything I need. I just have to write it. And to be honest, right now, I can’t think about much except being with my Nan.”

I hear rustling papers in the background. “I get it. I’m heading off to Europe tomorrow to meet some possible investors for Pulse, so you can have until I get back to finish up.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Two weeks. Can you get it done?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” There’s a pause, and then he clears his throat. “Okay, so it’s weird speaking to you for this long without yelling, so I’m gonna go.”

I laugh. “Thanks for calling, Derek. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, sure. Take care of yourself. And as soon as you can face it, get writing.”

“I will.”

We sign off, and I sigh. I never thought I’d see the day Derek would act like a regular person with human feelings, but I guess in times of crisis, people can surprise you.

I look over at Nan and take her hand. “See, Nan? Everyone’s on your side, even my asshole boss. That’s got to count for something, right?”

I stroke her skin and yawn as the sun kisses the tops of the buildings outside the window. I’m trying to stay positive, but it’s hard. Telling myself she’s going to be okay is one thing. Believing it is another.

“Ash called today. She was so excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell her about you. I know you’d approve, because you’d hate it if she gave up this opportunity and got on the first plane home. Besides, what can she do? The position of chief hand holder and chatterbox is filled. She’d have no purpose.”

I stroke her paper-thin skin and trace my fingertip over her tiny blue veins. “But of course if you wake up, I can call her and say you’ve had an accident but that you’re fine, which would work out well for everyone. So, just ... wake up, okay?” I look over at her and will her to move. “You don’t have to do anything major. Just open your eyes. Or squeeze my hand. You could squeeze my hand. That would be fine.”

I stop talking, because I get that pain in my throat that tells me I’m about to lose control. So instead, I press my forehead against her wrist. In this position I can feel her pulse, and I have to believe that as long as her heart’s beating, there’s a chance she’ll make it through.

When I hear footsteps come into the room, I figure it’s just one of the battalion of nurses that checks on Nan every half hour. I flinch when a warm hand cups my shoulder.

“Eden, come on. You need to rest. Let me take you home.”

I shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. All week, my ‘brother’ has been leaving care packages for me. He’s very popular with the nurses. Of course he is. All the ladies fall for Mister Romance, whether they want to or not.

When I raise my head, he strokes my back. “Hey, there.”

“Hey.” I’m so tired, my voice breaks.

“Wow,” he says, pushing hair away from my face. “I didn’t think it was possible, but ... you look like crap. Very beautiful crap, but still ...”

I let out a hoarse laugh. “Awww. You really are the sweetest man I know.”

Without waiting for my permission, he grabs my phone and purse and pulls me to my feet. “Come on. You’re exhausted.”

“Max, I can’t leave.”

“You can and you will. The nurses have told me they’ll call the second Nan’s condition changes. But tonight, you’re going to eat, shower, and sleep in a nice, warm bed, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“But she needs someone to talk to her.”

He stops and faces me then says, “I have that covered. Our wonderful cousin Dyson is going to stay here tonight and read to her.”

Dyson, AKA Pat, walks in carrying a collection of books. “Hey, Cousin Eden.” He squeezes my arm. “I’m so sorry about Nan. But don’t worry, I took a course in audiobook narration. I got this. Tonight, we’re going to crack open Pride and Prejudice. I do a killer Mr. Darcy. ”

Max waits for my reaction. I sigh and nod. “Okay. But I’m coming back first thing in the morning.”

Max leads me down the hallway and toward the exit, his arm around my waist. It’s so comforting, I feel like I’m already asleep and wrapped in a warm, tall, good-looking dream.

When we get in the elevator, I turn to him. “Can you take me to Nan’s instead of my place?”

“Sure. Why?”

“There are a few things I have to do.”