You Should See Me in a Crown(65)
I want to squeeze her hand, to anchor myself with someone solid, someone I can count on. But she’s standing, and so I do the same.
“Your brother has acute chest syndrome and was in a great deal of pain when he arrived here. Worse than I’ve seen in quite some time.” She doesn’t stop to explain ACS to me, since we both know I’ve done all the reading there is to do about it. I know how severe it can be, but if Dr. Fredrickson was able to spot it in time, it’s treatable. “We’re going to keep him here for a little while, track his progress, especially after this afternoon’s exchange transfusion.”
And it clicks, the reason Dr. Fredrickson didn’t want me to walk straight into his room when I arrived. Robbie is currently hooked up to a machine that removes his damaged red blood cells and replaces them with the healthy blood of a donor. Without warning, the sight alone might have been just what it would take to push me over the edge.
She looks down at her watch. “If you’re ready, you can have some time with him before I’ll need to see him again. Your grandparents are in his room as well.”
I straighten as I walk in the direction of his room. I’m still me. And Liz Lighty learned a long time ago how to put on a good face for her little brother.
When I see Robbie lying down, eyes shut against the light and oxygen tubes in his nostrils, and hooked up to the machines that might be saving his life, I am reminded that some people might just not get luck.
“Bea,” Robbie whispers, eyes still shut. “Beatriz, will you please ask my sister on a scale of one to ten how pissed she is at me?”
Granny turns to the door where I’m standing, noticing me for the first time. Me and Ro can do this sometimes, just sort of know when the other is in the room without looking. We’re not twins, but we have developed an undeniably twin-like connection over time.
“Lizzie, baby.” Granny stands and wraps her arms around me. I bury my face into her neck, which smells like it always does, sort of like White Diamonds perfume but mostly like home.
I’m so glad to see her, to be enveloped in her arms like I am every time I walk through the doors of our house, everything feels a little closer to normal. When I pull back, I see Grandad nodding off in the corner. I swear, nothing fazes that man except losing to Robbie at a game of Jeopardy!
Beatriz, the nurse, offers me her usual pinched smile as she adjusts the clear dressing over the L-shaped needle sticking out of Robbie’s port. I wince at the sight of it. Even though I’m going to be a doctor one day, this has never gotten any easier to stomach.
“Liz, your brother wants to know how pissed you are,” she deadpans.
“When Granny and Grandad are gone, I’ll make sure to let him know.”
Granny tucks me to her side and guides me over to the couch in the corner, like I didn’t just threaten to cuss my brother out the minute she leaves the room. I can’t blame her. Hospital visits knock everyone off their axes a little bit. And it’s been a while since we’ve had one like this.
Robbie smiles but groans quietly. “Granny, could me and Liz have a second? I want her to”—he intakes a sharp breath with a wince—“rip me a new one while I’m drugged rather than while I’m sober.”
Granny laughs and swipes at her eyes quickly. She slaps my grandad on the back of the head, and he wakes with a start.
“What in the Devil!”
“Come on, Byron.” Granny grabs his hand and pulls him after her. “Let’s see what they’re serving up in the cafeteria.”
“I don’t want that crusty cafeteria food! Last time we were here, I about cracked a tooth on my biscuit. It’s a shame what they’re serving the sick and shut in,” Grandad mumbles, but he follows her out the door.
Beatriz goes soon after, leaving Robbie and I alone. I almost don’t know what to say to him, about any of this. He opens his eyes then, and his face holds no trace of his usual humor, his constant attempts to lighten my mood. “I’m sorry, Liz. I’m really sorry.”
I sigh. I’m exhausted. Like, bone-deep, viscerally worn down. I cross the room to sit on the edge of Ro’s bed and link our fingers together.
But instead of laying into him like I know he expects, I tell him the truth.
“I should disown you for this, you know. You are literally the cherry on top of a curdled-milk sundae of an emotional roller coaster.”
Because the thing is, I’m sorry too. I’m sorry he’s sick, that I can’t do anything about it—that our lives have been a revolving door of hospital visits and experimental drugs and near-death scares.
“Curdled-milk sundae and a roller coaster? You’re mixing your metaphors.” He snorts. His features snap to attention quickly, the realization dawning on him. “Liz, please tell me you made court. Please, I’m begging you, for everything good and holy in this world, please tell me that my sister is going to have her nerdy but somehow secretly amazing self on the prom court docket next week.”
“I don’t know. I don’t even think I want to know right now.”
“Well, have you”—he stops and shuts his eyes briefly—“checked Campbell Confidential?”
“I’ve been a little busy, Ro. I haven’t had time to check Campbell Confidential.” I roll my eyes. Even sick, this boy can’t resist logging in and being nosy. “And whatever. Maybe I should just drop out anyway.”