Stir Me Up. Sabrina Elkins

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СКАЧАТЬ crosswalk. “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she admits.

      “Yeah, well.”

      “That’s not how your father put it.”

      “Dad’s a man. He’s not good with the whole communication thing sometimes.”

      “I just hope Julian’s condition has stabilized,” she says.

      No idea what this means, but it sounds really scary. “Me too. I’ll do whatever you need to help either one of you, okay?”

      She gives me a faint smile and touches my arm. “Thanks.”

      From the moment we walk in the front doors, I kind of have to force myself not to freak out—hospitals just aren’t my favorite places. I go out of my way not to look at anything too carefully, but of course it’s all still there in plain sight—the wheelchairs, the gurneys, the nurse’s stations, the doctors with stethoscopes draped around their necks, the curtained-off beds and blue IV machines. And then there’s the smell, that awful unmistakable antiseptic hospital smell. Estella’s shaking so hard, I want to squeeze her hand or something but even though she’d typically like it if I did, now I’m not sure. I think I’ll somehow be interrupting or bothering her.

      Julian’s not in the critical care unit anymore, which is good. We find his room, and once we reach the door, I tell Estella I’ll wait outside. She doesn’t even register that I’ve spoken. She’s too locked on what’s inside that room. She’s so drawn to it, to her surrogate son, that I can’t stop watching her. Like a peeping Tom, I linger by the open doorway as she approaches Julian’s bed. There’s another patient in the room with him, but he’s the one who’s closest. “Hey handsome,” I hear her say, very softly. “How do you feel?” All I can see is her back. I don’t even know him and my heart is thundering away.

      I can’t hear his response.

      She leans over his face, probably to kiss him.

      Then she turns away from him, obviously hiding the fact that she’s crying. I feel so bad for her, I go in and hand her the crumpled tissue in my pocket. She takes it and holds my arm. She holds it like she needs it to stay upright. I don’t even notice the patient in the bed, I’m so focused on Estella, and she’s blocking my view anyway. “I’ll get you a chair,” I say. She’s nodding. Trying to keep it together.

      “No, don’t sit down,” a garbled voice from behind her says. “Just leave.”

      “But Julian,” Estella begins, turning to face him.

      “LEAVE!” he cries.

      Some nerve. “You know, Estella has been worried half out of her mind,” I say. “She flew down here with her heart in her...”

      Holy Mother of God. Estella moves away and I’m looking at her nephew. And I’m praying. Holy Mother of God, I pray. Well, a sort-of prayer. His eyes are so blackened and swollen he must hardly be able to see. His nose is broken and bandaged. His bottom lip is a busted mess. He’s wearing a neck brace. His right leg, covered by a hand-knitted quilt, is cut off just below the knee. His left leg is bare and outfitted with an extremely scary-looking apparatus made of metal rods and pins. The pins have been surgically inserted into his skin, presumably to hold the bones in place. I close my eyes. Holy Mother, ease his pain, I think to myself. Heal him.

      “Julian, this is your new step-cousin, Camille,” Estella says.

      “GET OUT!” Something is knocked across the room—a book I think.

      Estella hesitates, still not wanting to go, but Julian’s so upset he’s throwing things, so I just kind of drag her from the room. Estella’s eyes are brimming with tears. A nurse comes over to us and Estella ushers her away from me. All I get from the conversation is that the nurse will find Julian’s main doctor. Meanwhile, I go about the business of fetching Estella some water. My hands are shaking so hard the paper cup is folding and the water is sloshing around, wetting my fingers. My cell rings. I know it’s Dad calling to see how things are going, but I can’t talk to him now. I can’t talk to anyone. I give the water to Estella, trying to calm myself down by remembering this guy is a complete stranger to me. That he’s probably on all kinds of drugs. This idea gives me some hope. I turn to Estella, who’s staring helplessly at the nurse’s station.

      “Estella?” I say to her. “You know Julian must be in a lot of pain. He’s probably stoned out of his mind and has no idea what he’s saying.”

      She takes a small sip of water and looks at me. “That’s true.”

      Heh. She almost smiles.

      “I’m going back in,” she says.

      Yikes. “Are you sure?”

      “Yes. You shouldn’t, though. Just wait out here for me. Do you mind?”

      “No, not at all,” I tell her, glad to be able to sit this one out. “I’ll either be here or in the waiting area.”

      “I’m just going to go in and sit in a chair.”

      “Good idea.”

      “He can’t mind that.” She hands me her water cup and goes in.

      I don’t hear any yelling, but five minutes later Estella is back out in the hall. “We’ll come back tomorrow.” She’s on the verge of crying again. Just holding it in. Barely. Poor woman. This guy is a major jerk, I don’t care how hurt he is. I take her hand and lead her outside for the walk back. The minute she leaves the hospital the waterworks fully unleash.

      “Hey,” I say. “At least you know he’s strong enough to speak.”

      She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

      “I mean, think about it. He was hollering pretty good in there. Can’t be too close to death or anything.”

      She smiles. Hiccups. I’m scrambling for a fresh tissue for her.

      “He’s the sweetest boy. That’s what I don’t get. He’s never yelled at me once in his whole life.”

      All the tissues in the world aren’t enough. As soon as we’re in the room she tells me she’s exhausted and taking a sleeping pill for the night. I don’t know how much those pills typically knock you out, but in about half an hour she crawls onto the bed and falls into what I seriously fear is a coma.

      I’m not kidding. I fret over her and call Dad, who can’t speak to me because of the dinner rush, and I’m shaking her and I can’t call Luke because he’s working too and she stirs a little and I try to convince myself she’s fine. I call and order a pizza from room service. I realize she’ll sleep through it and it’ll be cold and I cancel the order. Then I realize I haven’t eaten all day and I call back and reorder, adding mushrooms and olives. The room service guy is nice about it.

      I flip on the television, turn the volume down low and watch the news and some stupid reality show about a man living off of a pocketknife and pipe cleaner out in the jungle. I read a little of Jacques Pepin’s autobiography—he’s a famous French chef who used to be a hot guy—and the pizza arrives. I sign for it, eat two slices and worry over Estella’s possible coma some more. My phone battery is dead but I already left Dad a message. She did too, I think. I plug the СКАЧАТЬ