Rapid Falls(2)

I got the call from Rick in the car on my way home from work. Maggie had collapsed abruptly. Conscious, but unable to walk. Rick rushed her to the doctor, who diagnosed possible meningitis and called an ambulance. I changed course and met them at the hospital. Panic sweat still dampens my lower back.

“Mommy. Please come.” Her small voice, full of fear, is worse than a scream. I step out from behind the screen. The technician sighs loudly and the buzzing stops.

“We are almost done, ma’am. Please step back.” His voice is laced with annoyance. I ignore him and lean toward Maggie. Her warm brown eyes are swimming in tears. She looks so much like my sister when she’s frightened. They both seem certain that I can help, but they are wrong. Most of the time, I’m as helpless as they are. I’m just better at hiding it.

“I don’t like this, Mommy. Please make them stop.”

“I can’t, sweetheart. Just a minute more.” My throat closes around the sob I’m fighting to keep inside. I try to let go of her hand, but her grip is too tight.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go,” she whispers. I nod and turn back to the technician, quickly wiping a tear away with my free hand.

“Take the X-ray,” I say. “It’s okay.”

“Radiation. It’s against hospital policy, ma’am. Step behind the screen.”

“I’m not leaving her.” My voice shakes with ferocity. We stand in silence until the buzz of the machine once again echoes in the small room.

I realize suddenly that I said the same words before, almost twenty years ago, in a different hospital. The staff told me to let Anna try to walk alone even after she vomited from the pain of standing. Hospitals always remind me of my sister. She’s been in so many of them: first, because of the accident, and later, for all the other reasons. I’m grateful that the staff here is taking better care of my daughter than the other hospitals ever have of Anna, even though my sister and daughter often act the same. Both throw wildly careening tantrums, issue sullen responses to questions, and defy direct requests. Maggie is forgiven for this behavior because she is a toddler. My sister is a drunk who has served time for murder. People don’t give her the same amount of leeway.



Anna’s drinking problem started the day she was released from prison sixteen years ago. She stops once in a while, sometimes long enough to make it seem like it will stick, but it never does. There was a hopeful spell about four years ago, after Anna’s drinking had escalated to the point where my mother wouldn’t take her calls anymore. I understood my mom’s decision even though I didn’t feel capable of shutting my sister out in the same way. My phone rang often with requests to rescue Anna from awful situations. One Friday night, a guy I had never met called to say that he was leaving her at the hospital. She had cut her head, and they couldn’t stop the bleeding without stitches. When I arrived, the guy was gone, and Anna didn’t remember what had happened or who he was. Not that it mattered. I was grateful, in a strange way, for the call. I needed to talk to Anna, but I’d been dreading the conversation. I had just found out I was pregnant.

I contemplated trying to talk to her in the car as I drove her home from the hospital. Then she passed out. I turned on the radio so I wouldn’t have to hear the hollow thud of her head hitting the window when we went around corners. She was too drunk to hear my big news, and I knew it was better for Rick to be there when I told her. Back then, he was kinder to my sister than I was. He still had hope.

A few days later, we met at a greasy spoon diner around the corner from her house. The server filled Anna’s and Rick’s cups with steaming coffee. I shook my head when she tried to do the same to mine. Anna turned to me with her eyebrows raised. Her mascara was clumped on her eyelashes like black glue, but the question in her eyes was clear.

“Are you okay?”

Rick squeezed my hand under the table, and I took a deep breath. “Anna, I’m pregnant.”

Her face went blank.

“We are both thrilled,” Rick said. She turned her gaze to him, then nodded, picking up on his cue.

“Of course! Congratulations.” She tilted her coffee cup, as if toasting us. A brown rivulet slopped over the side.

“Thanks, Anna.”

She seemed to be struggling to think of something else to say, and the silence between us made me feel like I was sitting across the table from a stranger.

“What a big change for you,” she finally blurted.

And you, I thought.

“Yes. It will be.” I looked down at my menu so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes.

“Look, Anna, I have a crazy idea.” Rick sounded excited. “Being a dad is a big job. I’ve got nine months—”

“Seven and a half,” I interrupted.

“Yeah, seven and a half, to prepare. I need to get back in shape. I want to run a marathon. You used to run, right?”

Anna nodded.

“Want to join me?”

The blank look reappeared on my sister’s face. I took a sip of water to hide my discomfort. I expected Anna to roll her eyes or worse. Instead she smiled. It made me remember the look on her face when she used to cross the finish line.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Rick fist-pumped the air.

“Are you going to do it too, Cara?”