Stand Alone (17 page)

“Hurts too much.”

“Let’s have a look, shall we? Lie on your back, please.”

Justine rolled onto her back, but kept her hands clamped over her belly.

“Move your hands off. Let me have a look.”

Justine pulled her hands back. The nurse poked and prodded her abdomen and listened with her stethoscope.

“Your stomach’s growling,” she pointed out. “I want you to eat at least five bites. Then wait a bit and see if it feels better.”

Justine scowled.

“It hurts,” she said. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to try. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“I don’t know
  
…
 
a few days.”

“The solution in your IV helps a little, but it isn’t giving you all of the nutrients you need. Have a bit of your lunch, and then we’ll see how it goes.”

She pulled Justine’s table over so that it was across Justine’s lap, and opened it up. She walked back out of the room. Justine stared down at it for a few minutes. It actually did smell good, and her stomach started to rumble more loudly at the sight and smell of it. Justine took a bite of her sandwich, a bite of her salad, and a bite of her jello. She drank down a few swallows of orange juice. It felt really good going down. She picked at the lunch some more, getting some appetite back, but not wanting to be sent home yet. She didn’t want to go back to Em, back to the suffocating routine. She liked the way that the hospital took care of her, the attention of the doctors and nurses. Before long, at least half of her plate was cleared, and Justine still wanted more to eat. But the ache in her belly was growing, and she wasn’t so sure it was such a good idea.

Nurse Kim returned after a while, and nodded at her plate.

“That’s looking better,” she approved.

Justine jumped up and dashed for the bathroom, dragging her IV pole beside her.

“Are you all right?” Kim questioned in surprise.

Justine shut the door on her and flipped the lock. Which was probably silly. She was sure that the nurses could unlock and open bathroom doors if they had to. Justine stood there, trapped, breathing quickly. Now what was she going to do? They would send her home for sure, without further thought. They wouldn’t if Justine couldn’t eat, but if she could, there was nothing to worry about. Unless
  
…
 
what if she couldn’t?

Justine steeled her nerves. She hated to be sick. The stomach flu was one of her horrors. But if she was to get her way, she was going to have to be tough. Justine took a deep breath, and jabbed two fingers into the back of her throat. She gagged and coughed, but didn’t bring anything up.

“Justine?” Nurse Kim called to her.

Had she never heard someone get sick before? It wasn’t exactly the time for conversation. Justine pushed her fingers back again, and this time gagged hard enough to bring the lunch back up again. She held tightly to the rim of the toilet until she was done. She didn’t flush the vomit down, figuring that if the nurse doubted that she was actually sick, or thought that she was putting it on, that would prove Justine was telling the truth. She rinsed her mouth in the sink and blew her nose, and then opened the door. Kim was waiting on the other side impatiently. She helped Justine over to the bed, fluffed the pillows, and drew the blanket up over her. She put a thermometer in her ear for a moment to check her temperature. Justine was sweating, but the nurse seemed satisfied with her temperature, making no comment.

“Okay now?” Nurse Kim questioned, patting her arm and pushing the hair out of her face. “Do you want a basin? Are you done, do you think?”

Justine sighed, closing her eyes.

“I didn’t have that much in my stomach to start with,” she said.

“No,” Kim agreed, pushing her table out of the way so the food wasn’t right under her nose. “Maybe you ate too much? Too fast? Sometimes tummies can be sensitive, when you haven’t been eating for a while.”

“I don’t know,” Justine said.

“Okay. You rest now. Close your eyes.”

Justine was already closing them. The nurse went into the bathroom and flushed and sanitized, picked up Justine’s half-eaten lunch, and tip-toed back out.

“So,” Dr. Harvey said, looking over Justine’s chart, “Still not feeling quite up to par, are we?”

Justine shook her head.

“My stomach hurts,” she told him.

“And you had a little bit to eat, but you threw up afterward. How long has that been going on for?”

“Just once. Today.”

“You weren’t throwing up before you got here? Any time in the last few days or weeks?”

“No,” Justine shook her head. She touched her stomach, wincing at a stab of pain. “What do you think it is?”

“No idea. Let’s have a look.”

He repeated an examination similar to the one the nurse had performed, poking, prodding, palpitating, and tapping, and finishing up by listening with his stethoscope. He pursed his lips.

“Some general tenderness,” he observed, “but nothing that seems too worrisome. You probably just surprised your stomach the first time you ate. Let’s have something else, just a few bites, later on tonight. Let that sit and see what the stomach does with it. If not
  
…
 
We’ll run some tests tomorrow.”

“I can’t go home?” Justine questioned.

“Not until we’re sure that you’re stable. And stable means eating. If you can’t eat, you’re just going to end up back here in a day or two in worse shape. Don’t you worry about it, we’ll sort it out. Trust me on that.” He patted her hand, smiling reassuringly.
 

After supper, Em arrived in Justine’s hospital room, looking tired and stressed. She looked around the room, saying nothing at first. She sat down in the chair, looking at Justine but saying nothing.

“Hi,” Justine greeted uncertainly.

“Hi yourself. So, what’s this about you not coming back home?”

Justine shrugged, her forehead wrinkling in a frown.

“I’m still too sick,” she advised.

“Oh, you’re too sick. I’m pretty sure that you’re not sick at all,” Em said flatly.

“What? I threw up! The doctor said I have to get a bunch of tests done tomorrow.”

“If you’re sick. But I don’t think you are. I should probably just sign you out of here and take you home.”

“You can’t do that without the doctor’s say-so!”

“I certainly can, young lady,” Em said primly. “And if I do, what are you going to do about it? Make another complaint to Child Protective Services?”

Justine was quiet, looking around the room.

“What do you mean?” she questioned. It wasn’t like she had thought that she could keep Em from finding out about the investigation. But she didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to talk about it.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me.” Em’s voice rose. “When are you going to stop this, Justine? You’re fifteen years old! How many times have you tried to get me in trouble by making spurious reports with CPS? Don’t you think they’re tired of you? How big do you think your file over there is?”

Justine swallowed, her stomach writhing again.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Em went on. “You take off and put yourself in hospital. Then you tell them I’m locking you in the basement? Why don’t you get attention by getting good marks at school, or taking up a sport at school, or something like that? Why does it have to be negative attention? You’re smart. You could do so much if you put some effort into it. But instead, all you care about is making my life miserable.”

Justine shrugged.

“At least I’ll have something to talk to Dr. Morton about,” she said.

Em’s face turned a deep shade of red.

“You think that’s funny?” she demanded.

“I dunno. Sort of,” Justine said. She wasn’t sure what she felt, or what she was supposed to feel.

“Justine,” Em said, exasperated. She put her hand on Justine’s leg. “Look—”
 

“Don’t touch me,” Justine snapped, pulling her leg away and slapping Em’s hand.

“I’ll touch you if I like. I’m your mother. I’m not hurting you. You need to listen to me!”

Justine shook her head.

“I don’t need to listen to anyone. Just leave me alone.”

“That’s not the way it works, Justine. I am your mother. You need to listen to what I say. You don’t get to just decide not to. You think you’re smarter and know better than anyone else, but sooner or later you’ve got to learn that that’s not true! Everybody has to listen to somebody. Parents, bosses, government, police. You can’t just decide that you know better than anyone else!”

Justine shook her head.

“I listen to police and stuff. Just not to you.”

“You listen to the police?” Em challenged.

Justine hesitated, wondering how much Em really knew. Sometimes Em kept secrets. She brought them out suddenly when Justine was least expecting them. Other times, Em completely closed her eyes to what was going on. She was wildly unpredictable.

“Usually,” Justine hedged.

Em rolled her eyes.

“Unless you think you know better. Or unless you want to,” she summarized.

It was true, but that wasn’t what Justine wanted to hear. Em just couldn’t understand how it was. Justine was different. Justine wasn’t the same as everyone else. Things were different for her. Not as clear-cut. She had to take care of herself, because no one else could be trusted to.

“Why don’t you leave me alone?” she growled.

“Because you’re my daughter and I love you. It’s my job to raise you, to teach you how to get along in society. I’m just not sure anymore that I’m cut out for it.”

Justine ran one finger through the swirls of her messy blanket. This was the point at which she would normally leave. But she was in hospital, and she couldn’t just walk out. Em seemed to understand that for once she had a captive audience, and she was determined to have this out.

“Justine.”

Justine shook her head.

“Look at me.”

Justine raised her eyes to glance in Em’s direction.

“No, look at me. At my face. At my eyes.”

Justine looked back down, stubbornly refusing. Em put her hand on Justine’s arm.

“Look at me,” she repeated.

Justine pulled away from the touch.

“Don’t touch me!” she insisted.

“Then do what I tell you to. Look at me.”

Justine raised her eyes to Em’s, smoldering. Em’s eyes were piercing.

“What?” Justine demanded.

“We can work this out,” Em said earnestly. “I know that you’re growing up, and we’ve only got a few more years together. But they can be good. We can be friends. We can communicate like adults and treat each other with respect. Can’t you try and work it out with me?”

Justine’s face twisted in a scowl. She tried to smooth it out, to keep her feelings hidden better. She bit the inside of her cheek, grinding her teeth and trying to maintain a cool exterior.

“Are you still going to be telling me what to do? When I can go out and what I can eat?” she challenged, in a cool, flat voice that she hoped conveyed that she didn’t really care what Em’s answer was.

Em grimaced, trying to find an acceptable answer. But her expression had already told Justine the answer.

“We’re not friends and adults if you are trying to run my life,” Justine pointed out.

“I think we could be, if you would cooperate. Just be reasonable, meet me half way on some things. Compromise.”

“You say compromise,” Justine snapped, “and that just means do it your way. Compromise means I have to give in.”

“We can both give a little. Meet half-way,” Em repeated lamely.

Justine shook her head. Em tried to take her hand.

“Leave me alone!” Justine screamed, her anger boiling over at Em’s grasp. “Just leave me the hell alone!”

Em withdrew, her expression startled and mortified.

“Justine,” she whispered sharply.

It was too late. There were approaching footsteps, and a couple of nurses hurried in, with a security guard.

“Everything okay in here?” Nadine, the pretty black nurse questioned, deftly inserting herself in between Justine and Em to check Justine’s vitals.

“Make her leave!” Justine insisted. “She won’t keep her hands off of me. Just make her leave!”

“Okay,” Nadine soothed. “Don’t get yourself all worked up, honey.”

Em’s eyes met those of the security guard, who was sizing her up, assessing the situation.

“I wasn’t hurting her,” Em said briskly. “She’s just overreacting.”

“Maybe it would be best to give her a break for a while,” the guard suggested. “Give her a little bit of space.”

Em snorted. Nadine caught the eyes of the other nurse, Chambers, and she jerked her head minutely toward the door.

“Why don’t we step outside the room to discuss this,” Chambers suggested, reaching out her arm toward Em and encompassing the guard with her gaze.

Shaking her head angrily, Em left the room with the guard and the nurse, and they spoke in low, clipped voices in the hall outside the door.

“Will you be okay now?” Nadine questioned, her fingers light over Justine’s pulse.

“She just wouldn’t leave me alone,” Justine reiterated. She could feel her heart pounding hard, pumping fast, and she knew the nurse would be able to feel it too. “I don’t want her in here.”

“We know that you have filed a complaint about her,” Nadine said. “The Social Worker said to keep an eye on things. If you don’t want her in here, we can tell her to stay out.”

Justine nodded, rubbing her eyes.

“She won’t keep her hands off of me. I just want to be left alone.”

“I hear you, honey,” Nadine agreed. “I’ll talk to security. We’ll ask her to leave.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Justine sniffled.

Em returned to the hospital the next morning to find Justine’s room empty, and the nurses remarkably antagonistic.

“I need to know where my daughter is, and what her status is,” she said evenly to Nurse Kim, the woman manning the nursing station at the moment.

Nurse Kim looked her over thoughtfully.

“Your daughter is having some tests run right now,” she said. “To see if we can find out what’s making her sick.”

“I wasn’t consulted on this. She doesn’t need any more tests, she’s just acting out for attention.”