My knuckles turned white as my grip on the wheel tightened even more. The tips of my fingers tingled, and I knew if I let go to flex them they would hurt. More worries crashed around in my mind. What if she made it through this, but she wasn’t the same? What if she stayed a vegetable from head trauma or something? My vision blurred from pooling tears, and I debated pulling over so I could gather myself.
An old Sarah Mclachlan song came on the radio, reminding me of when Emma and I were little. My mind shifted to old memories wrapped up in the song, and I felt myself relax enough to continue.
We had made up dance moves to go along with the song for our mom. I tried to remember why we’d done it, but couldn’t. Maybe there wasn’t a real reason. My mind uprooted more slivers of the memory. As I continued down the long stretch of highway, I let them take over my mind for a while. It was summer. I couldn’t have been older than five, which would have put Emma around eight or nine. If I thought hard enough, I could still hear Emma whispering in my ear she wanted to do something special for Mom. I had agreed, because back then, Emma was who I looked up to. All I wanted to do was be near her, and if making up a dance to one of Mom’s favorite songs was a way to do it, then I was there. No questions asked.
We had spent the majority of the day in Emma’s room—a place I was rarely allowed without causing a fight—listening to the song on repeat, while making up moves to go with each sentence. By the time dinner rolled around, we had a whole routine choreographed and memorized. Emma had dressed us up in similar outfits with matching white tights, and pulled both our hair back into the best bun she could manage. When Mom called us to dinner, she had raced to her and explained we had something special for her while I stood to the side with the portable radio, my finger hovering over play, waiting for her signal.
“Char, hit it,” Emma had yelled to me. I’d pressed the button and started the song I had learned every word to throughout the day. Setting the radio down, I joined Emma in the center of the living room. I could still remember seeing Mom’s lips quirked into a small smile as she watched. We danced our little hearts out during the length of the song, nailing every move Emma had created as we were supposed to. At the end of the song, my heart was pumping fast, but I remember feeling a sense of pride. Emma had looked at me with a wide smile and said, “Good job, Char,” intensifying it.
Until I looked at our mom, and realized she was crying.
We were supposed to make her happy. The song was her favorite, and the dancing was supposed to make it ten times better for her. Instead, we had made her cry. I didn’t understand until I saw her hand pull away from her lips, revealing the smile hiding behind it. I remembered racing Emma to her arms. I remembered Mom telling us she loved our dance, that we were so pretty and graceful.
I wiped my nose on the back of my hand as I changed into the other lane, and set my cruise control at seventy. While I knew I would never have any more memories like that, because there was no way in hell I was dancing to In The Arms Of The Angel again anytime soon, regardless if it was Emma’s idea or not, I still wanted to make happy memories to add to the pile I already had with my sister and mom.
Things had to be okay.
I prayed harder than I never had in my life the remainder of my drive, hoping there was someone listening to my silent pleas, because I needed a miracle. Desperately.
I DROVE STRAIGHT TO the hospital. After finding a parking space, I cut the engine on my car and sat. My heart had already started beating out of my chest, and I hadn’t even stepped inside.
I was here, even though I suddenly didn’t want to be. Fear Emma wouldn’t be okay plummeted me. I was terrified the sight of her lying in a bed would gut me.
Swallowing hard, I reached for my cell, taking another minute out here to send Sadie a text and let her know I made it seemed important. I could do that without feeling guilt for not rushing inside. Couldn’t I?
I wasn’t sure. Guilt was working its way into my mind. Emma wouldn’t have bothered to text anyone. She would have squealed into a parking space and raced inside, frantic until she found me. Why couldn’t I react more like I knew she would? Why did I always have to freeze?
I made it. ~ Charlotte
Sadie responded immediately. I knew she would have her cell in her hand during class, waiting to hear from me.
How is she?
Shame filled me, clawing at my insides, making my heart pound even harder.
I’m still in the parking lot. I haven’t been able to force myself inside yet. ~ Charlotte
Telling her this only made me feel worse. I was a horrible sister.
It will be okay. You need to go inside. Things could have gotten better.
Or they could have gotten worse, I thought.
I don’t know if I can. ~ Charlotte
You can. I know you can. You’ve got this. One foot at a time, Char. Emma needs you.
Emma did need me. I had to pull myself together.
I know. I’m going. ~ Charlotte
Take a deep breath. Everything will be okay. Emma is strong. Text or call me any time. Let me know what happens. I’ve already tracked down your professors and told them everything.
Shit. I’d forgotten about my classes. I’d forgotten about everything.
Thank you, Sadie. I don’t know what I would do without you right now. ~ Charlotte
No problem, sugar. Take care. And don’t worry about calling work either. I’ll let them know what’s going on as well.
She’d thought of everything. I was glad.
Okay, thanks. ~ Charlotte
Taking in another deep breath, I forced myself to open my car door and step out. I put my cell on vibrate, and forced all negative thoughts from my mind as I focused on putting one foot in front of the other like Sadie had said.
“Hey,” a familiar voice called out. Lifting my stare from my shoes, I spotted Dawson leaning against the wall beside the automatic doors to the emergency room. His hands were crammed into the front pockets of his cargo shorts, his hair was ruffled, and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. He looked about as good as I felt. I took comfort in knowing I had someone to share in my misery with.
“Hi,” I said once I was a few steps away from him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Needed some fresh air.” He pressed the back of his head against the building, and straightened out his arms in front of him. I listened as he inhaled a deep breath, and then slowly blew it out. “I’m glad you’re finally here. Maybe you can get some answers, because those damn doctors won’t tell me a thing.”
“I’m sure I won’t be able to get any more out of them than you, but I’m glad I’m here too.” I wasn’t. How could I be? I didn’t want to have to be here. I wanted to be in class, taking notes or staring at Mr. Morison’s goofy clown shoes. I wanted Emma to be safe and well, doing whatever she would be on a Monday morning. That wasn’t the case though. I was here, at Easton Regional Hospital, and Emma was in a coma somewhere inside. “They really haven’t told you anything more?”