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CHAPTER 9
STELLA
Dr. Hamid frowns as I lift
up my shirt, her dark eyebrows knitting
together as she looks at the infected skin around my G-tube. I wince as she
gently touches the inflamed red skin, and she mumbles an apology at my
reaction.
When I woke up this morning, I noticed the infection had gotten worse.
When I saw the discharge oozing around the hole, I called her right away.
After a minute of inspection she finally stands, exhaling. “Let’s try Bactroban
and see how it looks in a day or two. Maybe we can clear it up, huh?”
I pull my shirt down, shooting her a doubtful look. I’ve already been at the
hospital a week, and while my fever is down and my sore throat is gone, this has
only gotten worse. She reaches out and gives my arm a comforting squeeze. I
hope she’s right, though. Because if she’s not, that means surgery. And that’d be
the exact opposite of
not
worrying Mom and Dad.
My phone begins to chirp away, and I look over, expecting it to be Will, but I
see a message from my mom.
Cafeteria for lunch? Meet me in 15?
“Fifteen” means she’s already on her way. I’ve been putting her off all week,
telling her things are so routine, she’d be bored, but she’s not taking no for an
answer this time. I shoot back a yes and sigh, standing up to get changed.
“Thanks, Dr. Hamid.”
She smiles at me as she leaves. “Keep me updated, Stella. Barb’ll keep an eye
on it too.”
I pull on a clean pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, make a note to add
Bactroban to the schedule in my app, then head up the elevator and across into
Building 2. My mom is already standing outside the cafeteria when I get there,
her hair in a messy ponytail, dark circles hanging heavily under her eyes.
She looks thinner than I do.
I give her a big hug, trying not to wince when she rubs against my G-tube.
“Everything okay?” she asks, her eyes appraising me.
I nod. “Great! Treatments are a breeze. Breathing better already. Everything
okay with you?” I ask, studying her face.
She nods, giving me a big smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yep,
everything’s good!”
We get in the long line and get our usuals, a Caesar salad for her, a burger
and milk shake for me, and a heaping plate of french fries for us to share.
We manage to grab a seat in the corner by the wide glass windows, a
comfortable distance away from everyone else. I glance outside as we eat to see
that the snow is still gently falling, a blanket of white steadily accumulating on
the ground. I hope my mom leaves before it gets too bad out there.
I’ve finished my burger and 75 percent of the fries in the amount of time it
takes my mom to eat about three bites of her salad. I watch as she picks at her
food, face tired. She looks like she’s been Googling again, up until the early
hours of the morning, reading page after page, article after article, on lung
transplants.
My dad was the only one who used to be able to keep her calm, pulling her
away from her worry spiral with just a look, comforting her in a way nothing
else could.
“The Divorce Diet doesn’t look good on you, Mom.”
She looks up at me, surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re too thin. Dad needs a bath. You guys are stealing my look!”
Can’t you see you need each other?
I want to say.
She laughs, grabbing my milk shake.
“No!” I shout as she takes a dramatic gulp. I dive across the table, trying to
wrestle it back, but the lid flies off, chocolate milk shake absolutely covering the
both of us. For the first time in a while, we completely crack up.
My mom takes a pile of napkins, gently wiping the shake off my face, her eyes
suddenly brimming with tears. I grab her hand, frowning.
“Mom. What?”
“I look at you and think . . . they said you wouldn’t . . .” She shakes her head as
she holds my face in both her hands, tears spilling out of her eyes. “But here you
are. And you’re grown. And beautiful. You keep proving them wrong.”
She grabs a napkin, wiping away the tears. “I don’t know what I’d do without
you.”
My insides turn cold.
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