“I didn’t feel well. I needed to get out of there. There were too many people and so much noise. I couldn’t breathe.”
“Okay, I can understand that. But why here? Why—” He looked toward the doorway again. The young doctor was gone, and Officer Katz had taken up a Minder pose in front of the door, hands clasped behind her back. “Why the ninth floor?”
“I wanted to feel closer to Gram. She spent so much time here. I was just going to look at the mural. Officer Katz said I could, but I got woozy and nauseous. You know how I get?” Shameless. “I thought I could find my way here, but I must have punched the wrong button in the elevator. I was really out of it.”
“Officer Katz did say you looked off when you came in. Why didn’t you let her page someone?”
“It got bad fast. I thought I could walk it off. Sorry, Dad. I know I made things worse for you today.”
Sam worked his fingers under his glasses, pressing them into his eye sockets. When he pulled his hands away, the indigo half-moons under his eyes had gone almost black.
“Oh, Gabriela, that’s not really possible. It’s not your fault. With everything going on and Gram not here to help you remember your medication, it’s no wonder. We even missed your monthly checkup. I forgot to tell your gram that it got moved because of all the new Returned being admitted this week.”
“Dad?” Gabi ventured. “What did the doctor mean, ‘new dose’? Is that what this is?” Gabi held up the crook of her arm with the inserted needle and looked over at the deflated pouch of fluid hanging beside her.
Sam nodded. “The tests showed extremely low levels of medication in your blood. The doctor thinks it’s only partially due to a missed dose. He says your body chemistry is changing more quickly as you become a young woman and that you’re metabolizing the medication faster because of it. He’s just tinkering with it so we can keep something like this from happening again. He wanted to do the IV to get the levels back up as soon as possible, but you can switch back to the pills after you’re discharged. You should be feeling better in no time.”
Gabi nodded to appease her worried father, but she knew without a doubt that “feeling better” would never be possible with that vile medicine poisoning her system. “Better” was the opposite of how Gabi felt now that the stronger dose was invading her bloodstream. Despite the harrowing events of the last two days, Gabi had experienced a level of vitality that she never knew existed. It could have been that she was too preoccupied with watching her life fall apart to pay much attention to her illness, but when a person spends sixteen years struggling to perform basic functions like breathing, they notice when things change. Now, the bluish cast had returned to her skin, and every breath once again felt like a stolen sip. The medicine was not helping her, and as soon as she got unhooked from that poisonous little bag, she would never allow it into her body again.
Thinking about her health, as disheartening as it was, was so much easier than reflecting on all that she had seen and heard on D Wing. Now she understood why Gram had written “you might think it unfair of me to burden you,” because that was exactly what it felt like—a monstrous, suffocating burden. Gabi couldn’t think of anyone less suited to the heroics Gram expected of her. Mathew would have been a much better choice. People looked up to him, believed in him, the way they did her father. When fellows looked at Mathew, their eyes shone with approval and respect, rather than clouding with pity the way they did when, on the rare occasion, they landed on her. She would tell her brother, Gabi decided. She would confess it all and ask him what they should do. He understood how the world worked better than she and could see the situation strategically. She wouldn’t have to carry this alone.
Chapter SIX
MONDAY MORNING was an awkward, dislocated shuffle in the Lowell house. Nobody knew what to do without Gram running things. Normally Gram would wake early, make breakfast, then rouse Gabi and Mathew to eat and get ready for school. Sam rose before dawn to pray and meditate before emerging from his room, but if Gram didn’t tap on his door to bring him back to reality, he would stay lost in his devotions all day.
Gabi had slept little, haunted by gory flashbacks from D Wing. Long before her clock struck seven thirty, she was dressed and roaming the silent house, no Gram bustling from sink to stove to refrigerator, no steam fogging the windows from a bubbling pot of oatmeal. So this is what it means when someone dies, Gabi thought. Every space that person filled, everything they used to do, would never be filled or done by them again. She found herself shuffling across the worn parts of the kitchen linoleum that Gram had traveled, hoping to soak in some of her grandmother’s spirit. Monday had come like it always did, and things still needed doing.
Gabi pulled down the tin of oatmeal from the shelf above the stove and carefully measured three portions into a pot. It was important to do this, as even an extra tablespoon of cereal could mean running out before the end of the week when new rations were delivered. Taking a pinch of salt from the dish on the counter, Gabi sprinkled it onto the dry oats and stood there, staring down into the beige flakes. She’d never woken up early enough to see how Gram did it. Salt was added to all their food no matter what, because it was enriched with iodine and other minerals to help offset the effects
