I kissed the side of her head.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, trying not
to cry.
I wasn’t sure whether I was speaking to her or myself.
***
A doctor finally saw us about thirty minutes later.
I wasn’t sure whether I was speaking to her or myself.
Nora needed fluids and medication.
They ran tests and monitored her for several hours. The fever slowly began to come down.
I spent the entire time alone.
Around five in the morning, while Nora slept against my chest with a tiny hospital bracelet around her wrist, I called my older brother, Daniel.
He answered on the second ring.
I spent the entire time alone.
“Claire?”
“I need help.”
His voice sharpened immediately.
“Where are you?”
“The hospital.”
“What happened?”
“I need help.”
I told him.
Not everything.
Just enough.
When I finished, he was silent.
Then he said, “Tell me what you need.”
No excuses. No questions about work. No explanation of how tired he was.
“Tell
me what you need.”
For some reason, that nearly made me cry when nothing else had.
By ten, Nora’s fever had finally come down enough for the doctor to send us home with medication, strict instructions, and a follow-up appointment.
I checked my phone while Daniel pulled the car around.
Nothing from Ethan.
I checked my phone
Not a call.
Not a text.
He didn’t know whether Nora had been admitted, discharged, or gotten worse.
Apparently, he could live with not knowing.
I put my phone back in my bag.
If Ethan could go to work without knowing whether his daughter was okay, I could make sure he found something very different waiting for him when he got home.
Apparently, he could live with not knowing.
Daniel took us to his house.
My sister-in-law helped me make a list of everything we’d need for the next few days.
Then Daniel
went back with me.
I wasn’t going back to argue with Ethan.
I was going back to sort everything out before he came home.
I wasn’t going back to argue with Ethan.
