Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“No kidding,” I sigh. “I need to go get ready. I missed a half a day at the office today and I’ll miss all day tomorrow. I’m going to need these shifts at Ficht’s. I’ll pick her up when I get off.”
I give Olivia a smile and make my way to the door. I stop by the sofa and press my lips against Everleigh’s forehead. My lips linger against her skin and I say a silent prayer.
Dear God, I need you to fix this. She’s my baby girl. I’m so scared.
Just . . . fix this, please.
SEVEN
JULIA
“I shouldn’t have asked Uncle Crew for crayons.” Ever’s voice is a little more than a whisper and I bend even closer to her to hear it. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands pressing against the hospital gown that’s way too big for her tiny frame.
I brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Why’s that, baby girl?”
She doesn’t answer for a second and I think she’s fallen asleep. “Because I should’ve asked for red slippers.”
“You just got a pair of Tinkerbell house slippers for Christmas.”
She nods, her head barely moving against the pillow. “Yeah, but I need ones like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I could click them together and go home.”
“We’ll be out of here soon. Just try to rest.”
“Can’t you just pick me up and take me home?” She flutters her lids open. Her eyes are a grayish blue, not the sparkling ones I’m used to seeing. They begin to glisten with tears. It terrifies me. It guts me. I can’t stand to see her cry. “You’re my mommy anyway. They can’t say no. Take me home, please.”
“We’re just waiting on the doctor to come in and tell us we can go. I’m sorry, baby girl. We can’t leave yet but we will soon.”
She seems to believe me and closes her eyes again, drifting off to sleep. I watch her for a minute before collapsing back into the stiff vinyl chair. It’s entirely uncomfortable and the springs are starting to make my back ache.
We’ve been here all day. We arrived before seven this morning. They carted Ever off right away and the poor thing has undergone test after test, including a biopsy that I wasn’t prepared for. A biopsy seems so much . . . scarier . . . than saying test.
I glance at the wall and it’s almost seven in the evening.
Twelve long hours.
It’s too much for me and I was just waiting. I can’t imagine how she feels.
My leg is bouncing, my hands folding and unfolding on my lap. I need to get back to work, try to pick up some extra shifts at some point this week to make up for being gone so much already. I bury my head in my hands.
I need to walk or talk to someone. I haven’t talked to anyone besides the hospital staff and Mrs. Ficht to tell her I wouldn’t be in for my shift today. But I have no one to call, nowhere to go. Olivia is volunteering at the nursing home and Crew’s the only other person that would be remotely interested in what’s going on. But who knows where he is or what he’s doing?
I release a sigh and try to settle back into the chair. Just as I find a semi-comfortable spot, the door creaks open.
A nurse that I haven’t seen before and Dr. Perkins come in. The nurse smiles in a pacifying way. I don’t know whether to believe it to be real or that she feels sorry for me. It seems to say, “I’m going to smile really nice so the bomb we drop doesn’t sting quite as bad.”
“Hi, Julia,” Dr. Perkins says. “This is Macie. She just came on duty.”
We exchange hellos. She does that smiley thing again and it makes me nervous.
“I want to talk to you a minute in my office. Macie needs to take Everleigh’s vitals, so she’ll stay with her while we’re gone. Is that all right?” An overwhelming sensation, a swell from deep inside my body, rises unexpectedly and I think I’m going to pass out. I don’t know if it’s what he said or the way he said it, but I’m almost certain this won’t be all right at all.
EIGHT
CREW
I swallow the last bite of the hamburger I made for dinner. I hate cooking, but years of watching my diet to make weight for wrestling, coupled with the four years at the University of Minnesota studying sports nutrition, had a way of creating habits. You can’t eat shit and stay fit.
It’s been raining and the gray skies are fucking with my head. I feel myself slipping into a depression, but I struggle to stay focused on the things ahead of me and the very few things that make me happy.