Underneath the Sycamore Tree(87)

Three sets of eyes turn to me.

I just sit there, propped against pillows on a hard mattress. The machines still beep around me, the monitors giving away how I’m feeling as my heartrate accelerates.

They watch me silently.

I stare at nothing across the room.

An empty wall.

An open space.

Nothing important or exciting.

Dr. Thorne steps closer. “Emery, the best course of action I can think to take is speaking to your rheumatologist as soon as possible and considering medication adjustment. If we could lessen the inflammation and keep it at bay, your chances of doing better on dialysis are far greater than choosing to do emergency dialysis starting tonight.”

My lips part slightly as I blink.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

“Where’s Mama?” I rasp, slowly turning my head to Dad. His cheeks are damp, and his expression is bathed in panic.

“She should be here any minute,” he answers, his voice sounding foreign to me.

I nod.

“Emery,” he says, walking over to me. I notice the way he eyes Kaiden until he replaces my overprotective best friend. “Baby girl, there is a lot to consider here. When your mother comes, I think the three of us need to sit down and talk it through.”

Talk what through? That’s what I want to ask him now, in front of our waiting audience. Does he want to talk about which choice will make me die faster? Or make me suffer longer? Does he want to hash out Mama’s opinion and watch her cry when I tell them I disagree?

My eyes are dry.

Why are my eyes dry?

Taking a deep breath, I turn to the doctor and ignore the way everyone’s eyes burn into my face. “How long?”

His jaw moves side to side. “It depends.”

“Mouse,” Kaiden whispers brokenly.

“If I don’t…” I swallow, my nostrils twitching and throat closing. “If I don’t do dialysis, how…long?”

Kaiden growls.

Dad’s jaw drops.

Dr. Thorne takes a deep breath. “You are at end stage renal failure. To be honest, it’s not long. But everybody is different.”

I close my eyes. “So even if we try adjusting my medication first, there’s a chance…?”

“Yes.”

The room grows eerily silent.

When my eyes open, they instantly find Dad’s. “There’s nothing to discuss then.”

“Emery—”

“Jesus. Fuck!” Kaiden slams his hand against the wall as he storms out, with Cam chasing after him, her palm muffling the sobs escaping her lips.

Thorne walks over to me, standing just before Dad. “We can make you as comfortable as possible if that’s what you decide, Emery. If you want to talk to your family further about this, make sure you press the button once a choice has been made and I’ll come back in. Okay?”

I’m not sure if I nod or answer, but he leaves Dad and I alone. Once the door is closed behind him, Dad shoots up.

“You are not dying.”

“I am.”

“Emery—”

“Dad!” My teeth grind. “You heard him. My heart isn’t going to take well to the treatment. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to. I’m going to die. Lo knew it right before she passed away, and I know it too.”

The calmness washing over me.

The lack of tears.

“It’s about how,” I continue, trying to make myself sound stronger than I am. “I don’t want to keep suffering, Dad. The hassle of trying to readjust my medicine for the billionth time is pointless. The meds should have reduced the inflammation to begin with. And…and it wouldn’t matter if we tried waiting it out and you know it.”

He palms his face, shaking his head and attempting to even his breathing. “I just got you back, Em.”

I simply nod.

“I just…” Tears overwhelm him.

Feelings.

Reality.

Acceptance.

“We got a year, Daddy.”

“It’s not enough.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Sunshine?”

Mama.





Chapter Forty-One





There’s a rainbow arched over the small patch of trees outside the hospital. I don’t get to see all the bright colors because my view is obscured from the wheelchair I sit in by the large window. I’m nowhere near eye level from where the glass sits, and the brick building hides part of the calling card I know Lo left for me.

Mama sat with me and cried for hours last night while Dad watched from the cot someone brought in. It looks more uncomfortable than my bed, which I tell Thorne they need to consider changing. It’s bad enough patients have to deal with additional discomfort, but families shouldn’t have to.

He told me he’d bring it up to someone.

I doubt he will.

Kaiden was missing in action until eight this morning. I’d fallen back asleep but never stayed in unconsciousness long. Between nurses coming in and out, Dad whispering to Mama, and Mama hissing arguments like I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t get settled.

There was an elephant in the room taking up the open space that wasn’t occupied by expensive machines and my upset parents.