weekend before, the way her jawline started to emerge and her eyes glowed against her skin. She’d only picked at her dinner, excused herself early to go to bed.
“I’d better get going,” Theo says. “You sure you’ll be all right?”
He’ll be gone only six or so hours, just long enough to see the twins and pack some clothes, but all of a sudden I’m not certain I will. “Drive safely. Don’t break any speed limits.”
“I could bring the boys back with me, you know. It wouldn’t be such a big deal for them to skip a few days of school. We could get a couple hotel rooms. Your mom could help.”
I’m tempted. I miss my sons. I’ve never spent the night away from them and I’m about to do it for the third night in a row. But the ICU’s no place for small boys, and I won’t leave Arden. What if something happens while I’m gone? She could emerge from her coma terrified and in pain. More fluid could seep into her skull and another emergency procedure might need to be performed. The boys will have a million questions. They’ll be frightened. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not now. They need their routine.”
“ They’re old enough to understand more than we give them credit for. Better not let their imaginations have free rein.”
He’s the psych major and the one who works with kids, so maybe he’s right. But these are my kids and my instinct tells me it’s a bad idea. “Maybe in a few days. After things settle.” After we get some good news. After Arden has opened her eyes and can turn her head to smile at her brothers.
“Bring Is Your Mama a Llama? ” I say impulsively. “Bring all her favorite books.” They’re the worse for wear, having endured the twins and, before that, all those years of reading to Arden and Rory, one little girl cuddled in on each side of me: Arden with her stuffed bunny clutched in the crook of her arm and her head drooping as she drowsed to the sound of my voice and Rory sitting fully alert with her legs sticking straight out and her thumb obstinately in her mouth. When kindergarten came around and Rory showed no signs of giving up her thumb, Gabrielle had resorted to all sorts of trickery, reasoning, prizes, noxious ointments, and outright threats. She’d been so afraid the other children would make fun of Rory. “The books are in the storage room.”
Theo’s standing by Arden’s bedside, looking down at her.
“Hey,” I say, softly. “It’s going to be okay.” I slide my arms around him, rest my head against his chest. His arms come up and I close my eyes, listen to his heart beat. “We’ve been here before. Remember? When Oliver was born, all the times Henry had croup? You said they should name the pediatric wing after him, we were there so much.” I smile at the memory. “Arden’s got great doctors. She’s in a top-notch hospital. She’s healthy and strong and she’s going to come out of this just fine. Right?” He’s silent. “Right?” He has to answer. I can’t do this alone.
Finally, finally, he tightens his arms around me. “Right.”
Arden
TIME SLIDES PAST like Dalí’s melting clocks step into the painting, and I try to pick one up. I hear something. My mom’s voice. I stop to listen. I’ll paint her a picture—the fireworks over the lake, the water indigo and the sky an explosion of yellow and orange. I swirl the paintbrush in the can of water.
“Your friends came by to say hello. They’ll come back as soon as you’re feeling better.”
Which friends is she talking about? Doesn’t she know I lost all of them, one by one? Doesn’t she know I never really had them to begin with? Mackenzie says she’s Rory’s best friend, but Rory never hears from her anymore. Who are Rory’s friends? Aunt Gabrielle wanted to know. She leaned close, softening her face so I’d tell her. She thought she knew all the secrets. She thought she coaxed them out of me, one by one.
“Grandma and Grandpa will be by after their
“I’d better get going,” Theo says. “You sure you’ll be all right?”
He’ll be gone only six or so hours, just long enough to see the twins and pack some clothes, but all of a sudden I’m not certain I will. “Drive safely. Don’t break any speed limits.”
“I could bring the boys back with me, you know. It wouldn’t be such a big deal for them to skip a few days of school. We could get a couple hotel rooms. Your mom could help.”
I’m tempted. I miss my sons. I’ve never spent the night away from them and I’m about to do it for the third night in a row. But the ICU’s no place for small boys, and I won’t leave Arden. What if something happens while I’m gone? She could emerge from her coma terrified and in pain. More fluid could seep into her skull and another emergency procedure might need to be performed. The boys will have a million questions. They’ll be frightened. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not now. They need their routine.”
“ They’re old enough to understand more than we give them credit for. Better not let their imaginations have free rein.”
He’s the psych major and the one who works with kids, so maybe he’s right. But these are my kids and my instinct tells me it’s a bad idea. “Maybe in a few days. After things settle.” After we get some good news. After Arden has opened her eyes and can turn her head to smile at her brothers.
“Bring Is Your Mama a Llama? ” I say impulsively. “Bring all her favorite books.” They’re the worse for wear, having endured the twins and, before that, all those years of reading to Arden and Rory, one little girl cuddled in on each side of me: Arden with her stuffed bunny clutched in the crook of her arm and her head drooping as she drowsed to the sound of my voice and Rory sitting fully alert with her legs sticking straight out and her thumb obstinately in her mouth. When kindergarten came around and Rory showed no signs of giving up her thumb, Gabrielle had resorted to all sorts of trickery, reasoning, prizes, noxious ointments, and outright threats. She’d been so afraid the other children would make fun of Rory. “The books are in the storage room.”
Theo’s standing by Arden’s bedside, looking down at her.
“Hey,” I say, softly. “It’s going to be okay.” I slide my arms around him, rest my head against his chest. His arms come up and I close my eyes, listen to his heart beat. “We’ve been here before. Remember? When Oliver was born, all the times Henry had croup? You said they should name the pediatric wing after him, we were there so much.” I smile at the memory. “Arden’s got great doctors. She’s in a top-notch hospital. She’s healthy and strong and she’s going to come out of this just fine. Right?” He’s silent. “Right?” He has to answer. I can’t do this alone.
Finally, finally, he tightens his arms around me. “Right.”
Arden
TIME SLIDES PAST like Dalí’s melting clocks step into the painting, and I try to pick one up. I hear something. My mom’s voice. I stop to listen. I’ll paint her a picture—the fireworks over the lake, the water indigo and the sky an explosion of yellow and orange. I swirl the paintbrush in the can of water.
“Your friends came by to say hello. They’ll come back as soon as you’re feeling better.”
Which friends is she talking about? Doesn’t she know I lost all of them, one by one? Doesn’t she know I never really had them to begin with? Mackenzie says she’s Rory’s best friend, but Rory never hears from her anymore. Who are Rory’s friends? Aunt Gabrielle wanted to know. She leaned close, softening her face so I’d tell her. She thought she knew all the secrets. She thought she coaxed them out of me, one by one.
“Grandma and Grandpa will be by after their
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