There wasn't much point in belaboring the discussion, so I
left him at the house. The drive to Hershey was shorter
than the trek from Lebanon to Harrisburg, but it was along
a two-lane, rural highway and I had the bad luck to be
stuck behind someone adhering strictly to the speed limit.
By the time I got to the med center, my stomach had
twisted itself into knots and I'd sweated big rings under my
arms. I parked in the lot and headed into the lobby, where
I managed to decipher the signs to find my mom's floor. I
took the elevator with a pair of chatty nurses and a worn-
looking older man with a basebal cap puled low on his
head.
It was just past 11:00 p.m., not the darkest hour of the
night or anything, but even so the floor was dim and quiet.
The nurses talked softly at the desk. I'd never been to the
ICU before. I wasn't happy to be here, now.
'Alicia DeMarco?' I rested my hands flat on the counter to keep myself from biting my nails. 'Her doctor caled and
keep myself from biting my nails. 'Her doctor caled and
said she was being moved here?'
The nurse consulted a chart. I thought there'd be trouble
with visiting hours, but she just smiled and told me the
room number and pointed the way helpfuly. My knotted
stomach twisted tighter. If my mom was realy fine I
thought they'd have made me wait until morning, which
would've annoyed me since I'd made the trip, but would've
meant she was going to be okay.
I didn't have that reassurance now.
She looked smal in the bed. Pale without her many layers
of makeup. Her hair not teased or even combed, just
puled back from her face in a high ponytail. She was
sleeping. Machines beeped and something squeaked by in
the hal outside as I just stared.
Her breath rattled and I jumped at the sound. When I
crossed to the bed, I couldn't be sure I'd wake her. I
didn't know if she could be woken.
Her eyes fluttered open when I sat in the chair next to the
bed. 'Paige.'
'Hi, Mom.' I scooted closer. Under the covers her chest
rose higher than looked right. I couldn't avoid looking.
'Checking out my new rack?' My mom's voice cracked
and she drew in a slow, pained breath.
'Why didn't you tel me?'
I waited for a long few minutes for her to answer. Her
eyes closed. I thought she'd falen back to sleep, but then
she licked her lips and coughed.
'Hurts like a bastard,' she said.
I didn't ask her again. There'd be time for questions and
accusations, and I had no doubt there'd be plenty of both.
My mom opened her eyes. Then she closed them again,
