Saving Meghan(34)
Becky had vowed to be the opposite of her mother. She wanted to be the mom her kids could come to for advice about love or school, who could help to resolve some conflict with a teacher or a friend. But Sammy’s death had cast a pall over their lives, and Meghan’s disease had come along later like an uninvited guest who refused to leave.
What she’d give for one day without that selfish guest. What would she give to see her daughter healthy again? Becky did not bother speculating too much, because she doubted that day would ever come.
* * *
DR. NASH WAS waiting to greet the family when they arrived at the ER entrance a little after four o’clock in the afternoon. Becky felt no residual anger toward the woman, but she did notice how Nash’s eyes lingered a bit too long on her husband. Nash had never met Carl before, so her first viewing may have been a surprise. It certainly was not the first time a woman (or a man, for that matter) had taken an extra beat to appreciate her husband’s good looks. He was that kind of man, after all; the ruggedly handsome, dimpled-chin, dark-eyes-you-can-lose-yourself-in type. But even Nash’s brief, if unintentional, flirtation with her husband did not elicit a rise out of Becky. She was here for a purpose. She was here for Meghan.
After their greetings, Nash took Meghan by the arm and seemed to rush her through the swinging doors into the ER. It happened quickly, too quickly for comfort, and the hasty departure left Becky reeling.
Where was Nash taking her? What test or tests would be performed? When should she expect an update? It was as though Nash were Meghan’s handler, ushering her to safety before her fans could converge. But this was no pop concert. This was her daughter, and her daughter was gone now, whisked away in a flash.
Becky turned to face Carl, concern clear on her face. “Did you think that was a bit abrupt? The departure, I mean.”
Carl found an empty chair, sat himself down, and proceeded to unfold a magazine he’d brought with him—the current issue of House Beautiful, which he read faithfully, seeking design inspiration for his business. Becky sat beside him, annoyed that he did not seem to share her worry.
“It’ll be fine.”
“But she rushed Meghan off like there was a fire here. How can you say that?”
“Just trust me,” Carl said as he flipped a page. “Everything will be fine.”
CHAPTER 16
MEGHAN
Something was wrong with this. I could tell right from the start; the whole thing felt off. This wasn’t like going to my other exams or doctor visits. For one, Dr. Nash didn’t simply take hold of my arm as she led me away. She gripped it kind of hard, her fingers digging into my flesh as if she was worried I was going to run or something. And then she basically dragged me from my parents while they were still trying to get information from her. She pulled me through the emergency room doors, tugging at me to hurry the entire time like I was a stubborn mule.
We didn’t go to the ER like I thought we would, like my mom and dad assumed I would. Instead, we went up an elevator and got off on the fourth floor. We followed a hallway to a glass-enclosed walkway that connected the main building where I was to a different building where I’d never been. We hardly spoke as we walked because I didn’t feel like she was being as friendly or warm as before.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“How have you been?”
“Fine.”
“Any new issues or symptoms I should know about?”
“No.”
That was the extent of it. It was like we were texting each other. I wondered if she and my mom had gotten into a fight about me or something. Whenever I mentioned Dr. Nash’s name, my mom would get an attitude like I’d mouthed off to her. So maybe that’s why she hurried me away. Could be she and my mom weren’t on the best of terms for reasons nobody thought I should know. I wasn’t all that concerned about making small talk with Dr. Nash anyway. I was more worried that I wasn’t even in the same building as my parents anymore.
“It’s going to be fine, Meghan, sweetheart,” Dr. Nash said, perhaps sensing my growing unease. “Really, not to worry. Okay? I’m here to help.”
I admit that relaxed me some. Even so, I didn’t like how Dr. Nash kept looking at me crookedly, as though I had done something wrong.
While the ER was kind of run-down, everything in this building was sparkling new, very nice looking. Tall glass windows lined a gleaming hallway, and would have let in a lot of light if it weren’t so cloudy outside. But I’m not my father’s daughter when it comes to architecture and design. I didn’t care what this place looked like. I cared more what it was for, which was why I got nervous when I noticed the sign above the double glass doors ahead that read: WHITE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL DEPARTMENT OF PSYCHIATRY.
Why would she bring me here? I asked myself. But I didn’t say anything to Dr. Nash as she ushered me through those doors, then down some other hall, and into a room with a single hospital bed and two—I guess I’d call them reception chairs, each with white leather cushions and a black frame finish.
The chairs were positioned next to each other at an angle, to encourage conversation. The walls were bone white. It smelled of powerful cleansers. The hospital bed had no sheets and no pillow. There were no pictures on the wall. No wastebasket. No other furniture of any kind.