All the Pretty Lies (30 page)

As is my habit, I glance over at the monitor.
I see the waves and colored numbers that I always see, and they
reassure me like they always do. I notice Sloane’s foot has shifted
and is uncovered. I walk to the end of the bed and cup her heel,
gently moving her leg toward the center of the bed. I try not to
feel panicked by how cool her skin is as I tuck the covers around
her feet. I guess I should be happy she’s not still burning up.

I’m just sitting down when I see her leg
twitch. Then she kicks. Hard. Hard enough to jar the bed. I reach
out to touch her arm and, just as my skin makes contact with hers,
she starts to flail.

Sloane flings her arms and legs, shaking her
head back and forth on the pillow.

“Sloane!” I call, trying to calm her
down.

My first thought is that she’s having a
seizure. I’m just turning toward the door to hail the nurse when I
see the commotion. Muted alarms are going off, people are
scrambling, and Sloane’s nurse bolts up out of her chair and runs
toward me. She goes straight to Sloane’s bedside and starts
assessing her.

My pulse is thudding in my head like a bass
drum. I feel the horrific sensation that the bottom of the world is
about to drop out from under me. Nurses don’t move like that for no
reason. Whatever just happened to Sloane can’t be a good thing.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step
outside,” she says in a stern voice. “Now!”

Like I’m in a dream, or better yet a
nightmare, I back out of Sloane’s room. My heart bangs painfully
around in my chest as I watch the scene unfold in slow motion. The
nurse jerks back Sloane’s covers. I hear voices and noises, but
they come to me from a thousand miles away. Two more people file
into her room, one of them closing the curtain so that I can no
longer see inside.

“Sir, please step out into the waiting room.
We’ll call you back in as soon as we know what’s going on,” a male
voice says.

Like a robot, I make my way toward the exit.
I push the button and the automatic doors swing open. I step
through them and turn, watching as they close again, separating me
from Sloane. From what might be her taking her last breath.

I stand, staring at the blank wooden doors,
praying that God in all His mercy isn’t taking Sloane from me. That
He would give me a few more minutes with her, another chance to
tell her I love her. When her eyes are open and she can hear how
much I mean it.

I’m still facing them a few minutes later,
dumbstruck and in shock, when they part and Sloane’s nurse walks
through. She’s smiling and I’m confused.

“Sloane’s fine. She had some alarming rhythms
on her cardiac monitor, but I found that a couple of her leads had
come loose. Had you straightened her blankets or something?”

I’m so relieved, it takes me a minute to
answer her. “I, um, yeah. Her foot was uncovered so I moved her leg
and covered her back up.”

The nurse frowns. “And that’s it?”

“Yes. But she was shaking, too.”

“What do you mean ‘shaking’?”

“I thought she was having a seizure. She
started kicking her legs and flailing her arms.”

The nurse’s brow knits. “Hmm, okay. I’ll let
the doctor know. Be sure to hit the call button if something like
that happens.”

Like I knew what the hell was going
on,
I think snidely. But I don’t say that. I’ll be nice as long
as she’ll let me stay with Sloane.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods and smiles and turns back toward the
door. I follow her through and make my way to Sloane’s side. I pull
my chair closer to the bed and sit on the edge, taking her hand in
mine. I watch her chest move with each breath she takes. I listen
to the soothing, reassuring sound of it and I close my eyes,
letting my head drop onto our joined hands.

“Please wake up, Sloane. Please be okay,” I
whisper, more to myself than to her.

I feel her fingers twitch in mine. They do
that fairly often. But then they squeeze. And they never do
that.

I jerk my head up and look at Sloane’s face.
I look for signs that she’s waking up, that she can hear me or that
she can feel me touching her.

“Sloane? Can you hear me?” I ask softly.

Her fingers squeeze mine again and I feel my
stomach turn over. “Sloane?”

I see her eyelashes flutter and I hold my
breath. After a few seconds, just when I think it might’ve been
imagining things, they flutter again, opening just a crack.

Sloane opens and closes her lids several
times before she opens them wide enough to focus on me. I don’t
think I’ve ever seen more beautiful eyes or a more beautiful sight
than Sloane looking up at me.

“Hemi?” she croaks.

“I’m right here, baby.”

I stand just long enough to reach across her
and hit the red call button. If the nurse thinks I’m going to leave
Sloane to come and get her, she’s lost her damn mind.

“I dreamed of you. I was drowning and the
darker everything got, the harder I fought to get to you. I was so
afraid I’d never see you again.”

“You kicked your arms and legs. I thought you
were having a seizure, but maybe it was just your dream.”

Oh, God! I hope so!

Confusion lights her eyes. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

I watch as a fearful understanding settles
in. “Am I sick?”

I know she knows the answer to that before
she even asked.

“They’re not sure yet. You’ve been
unconscious for a while.”

“How long?”

“About twenty-nine hours. You fainted on me
at my house. Do you remember coming over?”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Relief. “Good. Do you remember me telling you
that I love you?” If I get to tell her anything while she’s awake,
I want her to hear me say those words.

Sloane smiles, her perfect, angelic smile.
“As long as I live, I will
never
forget that.”

My heart explodes. I drop my head to our
joined hands again. I don’t want her to see how afraid I am, I
don’t want her to remember me this way. I want her only to remember
the good. Like the fact that I love her more than the air I
breathe. I don’t want her to see that I’ll be lost without her, or
that I don’t know what the hell I’ll do with the rest of my life if
she dies.

I fight the sting behind my eyes. I clear my
throat before I raise my head, fighting for composure. “Then I hope
you have a long memory.”

Her smile turns sad. “I do, too.”

She doesn’t know that I know, and I don’t
want to discuss it now. I don’t want to tarnish these moments with
things like that. I only want her to feel happy and safe and
loved.

The nurse rushes in. She looks first at me
and then beyond me to Sloane, then she grins. “Well, hello
there!”

Sloane gives her a small smile. “Hi.”

“I guess I’ll be giving the doctor a call.”
Her expression says she’s more than happy to do so. “Anything I can
get you, sleepy girl? Something to drink?”

Sloane smacks her lips. “Yeah, something to
drink. My mouth is dry.”

“Ice water coming right up. I’ll call your
father, too.” With a pleased smile, the nurse leaves us alone
again.

“I’m surprised Dad left.”

“He didn’t want to, but he had to go.
Something about your brother’s case.”

She doesn’t look bothered by the fact that
he’s not here. I know she’s not when she raises her hand to cup the
side of my face. “That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’ve never left, Sloane. As long as you want
me, I will always, always be by your side.”

Even though she smiles, as the doctor walks
in, I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: How long do we have?
How long is always for us?

********

I’ve never seen so many people come and go
from a room. Of course, I’ve never spent much time in a hospital
either.

As soon as one person leaves, another comes
in. Doing tests, hooking her up to machines, drawing blood.

I look out at the doctor, where he sits at a
separate cubby, flipping through papers. I have to give him credit.
He looks busy, taking in all these results and trying to make some
kind of sense of them.

I glance up at Sloane. I can see what a toll
all this commotion is taking on her. I mean, she woke up and
probably isn’t feeling one hundred percent. But, like the
strong-willed person that she is, she smiles through the whole
thing, never giving someone even so much as a dirty look. It just
makes me love and admire her that much more.

I watch her eyelids get heavier and heavier.
I’m not surprised when she falls asleep just after the nurse leaves
for the millionth time. When Sloane’s father arrives, I’m prepared
for them to ask me to leave. I’m prepared to argue and give him
every reason that I shouldn’t. But her dad saves me the
trouble.

“He can stay. We won’t get in your way,” he
assures the nurse.

She looks undecided at first. She glances at
me and I hold her gaze. “Please.”

“Okay, but when the doctor comes in, he may
not let both of you stay. You can work it out between you, who has
to leave.”

With that, she makes her exit. When we are
alone, Sloane’s father sits quietly on the other side of the bed,
watching his daughter. I know the dread and fear he feels. I know
it all too well.

I don’t know how long we sit like that, both
of us silently watching Sloane sleep, but the doctor finally comes
in. He keeps his voice low.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a long twenty-four
hours for you, and I’m sorry about that. Considering Sloane’s
condition, we needed to be thorough before we made any decisions
about her care.”

I feel a cold knot of alarm rise from the pit
of my stomach to stick in my throat. I reach for Sloane’s hand,
taking it gently in mine as I listen. Her skin feels like cool
satin against mine. It makes my heart ache to think of the
similarity it probably has to the lining of a casket.

The knot grows larger.

“We’ve gotten most of the results we were
waiting for. Only one of them came back positive.”

I drop down into the chair, bringing Sloane’s
hand to my forehead. I feel it turn over and she splays her fingers
along my cheek, lifting until my eyes meet hers. She’s awake. And
her face is shining with love and fear and bravery.

I close my eyes. I can’t look at her, knowing
that the doctor might say that this is the beginning of the end.
However long it might take for the end to get here, it’s too
soon.

“She has the flu.”

My eyes fly open. Sloane’s are wide as they
stare into mine. At the same time, we both glance at the
doctor.

“What?” she asks quietly, like she might be
afraid she heard him wrong.

“You’ve got the flu. We did a nasal swab that
tested positive.”

“All this from the flu?”

“Well, you had a very high fever and you were
severely dehydrated. So much so that you had a significant
electrolyte imbalance. It caused a cascade of other problems, but
nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“So, she’s not…” Sloane’s father says in an
unsteady voice that trails off.

“She’ll be fine, Mr. Locke.”

I see the relief that I
feel
as it
overwhelms him. He slides limply into the other chair at Sloane’s
side. “Thank God,” he breathes.

“No wonder I’ve felt like crap for the last
few days,” Sloane says.

“You could’ve mentioned that, young lady,”
Mr. Locke gripes good-naturedly as he raises his hand to brush
Sloane’s hair. “You scared the life out of me.”

Sloane’s brow wrinkles. “You thought…because
of Mom…?”

Mr. Locke nods, his eyes still shining. “I
don’t know what I’ll do if I ever lose you, Sloane.”

She reaches up to still his hand, wrapping
her fingers around his. “You can’t live afraid like that, Dad. None
of us can. If it happens, it happens. The most important thing is
to live life the best we can until then. Nobody has the promise of
tomorrow. The only thing we can control is living today with no
regret.”

“I know, hon, but it’s hard for a parent to
do that. I hope one day you’ll understand that.”

“I hope so, too, Dad. But—”

“No buts,” he says with a smile. “We have
today. And today you’ve got the flu. The flu we can handle. The flu
you can recover from. The flu is…well, the flu,” he declares with a
smile. “So, what’s the plan?” he asks the doctor.

“All we can really do is treat the symptoms.
If she does well the rest of the night, I’ll think about letting
her go home tomorrow. She needs to be taking good care of herself,
though. Lots of rest and lots of fluids. Tylenol for the fever.
Maybe some chicken broth thrown in there until you feel like eating
more. We’ll talk more about that in the morning. How does that
sound?”

His smile and demeanor are reassuring. They
feel like a cool breeze on a hot day. They ease the ache in my
soul, leaving me with only the determination to not lose one more
second of time with Sloane. I never want to feel the way I have
these last twenty-some hours again. Ever.

Sloane’s right. None of us have the promise
of tomorrow, which means I need to start making the best of today.
Right now.

“We’ll make sure she gets everything she
needs, Doctor,” I say, glancing at Mr. Locke meaningfully before I
look back down at Sloane.

He nods. “I’ll let you work out the details
then, and I’ll be back in to discuss more in the morning.”

He smiles at Sloane, pats her foot and then
makes his exit.

“Come to my house,” I ask, not caring that
her father is still here. “Let me take care of you. I
want
to take care of you.” I see the indecision in her eyes.
“Please.”

“But what about work? You can’t just take off
to baby me.”

“The hell I can’t! I own the place. I can do
whatever I want.”