Читать книгу Maybe One Day - Melissa Kantor - Страница 13

My dad was in Washington on assignment, but I didn’t even think to be relieved when I saw my mom’s car in the driveway—what if she’d been at the gym or a meeting and I’d had to wait for her to return my call and come home, had to sit there on the front porch cooling my heels and losing my mind while Olivia stared at the door of her hospital room, expecting me to walk through it any minute? I flew up the wooden steps of our front porch and into the house. Flavia barked as I entered.

“Mom! Mom!” I could hear the hysteria in my voice.

My mom’s an architect, and her office was in the back of the house, but she must have been in the kitchen because she appeared in front of me about a second after I threw open the door. “What is it? What’s happened?” She was holding the coffeepot, like maybe she’d been pouring a cup when she heard me yelling.

Still panting from my sprint home, I managed to choke out, “Livvie’s … she’s sick. She’s in the hospital. We have to go.”

“Olivia’s sick?” My mom’s eyes popped wide with concern.

“We have to go, Mom. She’s at UH. We have to go right now.” I started pulling on her arm, like when I was a little kid.

“She’s in the hospital?” My mom grabbed my elbow.

“That’s what I said.” Why was she not moving? “Now let’s go.”

“Zoe, sweetheart, you have to explain what’s going on.” Instead of racing for her keys and shoes, she put her hand on my shoulder. “Calm down. What’s wrong? What’s wrong with Olivia?”

“Mom, I told you! She’s sick. She has leukemia. She’s in the—”

“She has leukemia?” She dropped my arm and pressed her fingers to her lips. “My God! When did this happen?”

“When do you think it happened?” I slapped my forehead. “Oh, yeah, it happened last week, only I forgot to tell you about it.”

“Zoe, there’s no need to get—”

“Why aren’t you hurrying?” I ran over to the stairs and grabbed a pair of shoes. “We have to go.” My voice was shrill, and my eyes stung.

For a second, my mom stared at me from across the room as I stood there, holding her black ballet flats out to her. If she didn’t put on her shoes and get in the car, I was seriously going to take the keys and drive myself. I had my learner’s permit. I’d been driving (with one of my parents in the car) for months. I would make it.

As if she’d read my mind, my mother crossed to where I was standing. Her hand shook, and she had trouble slipping her feet into the shoes. By the time she was done, I’d grabbed her bag and gone to the front hall. Without saying another word, we headed out the door.

My mother’s a talker. It’s like the monologue most of us have running in our head at any given time is, in my mom’s case, dialogue. Should I have the chicken salad sandwich … oh, it’s kind of crowded in here … I better not forget to write this down … it’s really taking a long time for the light to change … I think I should buy this T-shirt in blue and black. The whole drive into Manhattan she talked and she talked and she talked.

“You know, honey, I went to school with a girl who had leukemia, and she was fine. And that was years ago. They’ve got treatments now that are much, much better than the ones they had then.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” What was leukemia? I didn’t even know exactly. I knew it was terrible. I knew people could die from it. But what was it? Olivia said they’d found something in her blood … I picked at a split nail on my thumb, biting and pulling at it.

“And University Hospital is the best. Just the best. If any one of us got sick, I’d want us there. And do you remember my friend Beth? Her brother-in-law is the head of … cardiology there, I think. Or it could be dermatology. Anyway, he’s a big, big deal. Maybe I’ll ask Beth to call him. It’s always good to know a doctor who’s on the staff when you’re a patient.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Livvie’s heart, Mom. Or her skin.” The nail split low, and I peeled it off, glad to focus on the pain.

“Well, it’s always good to know a doctor,” she repeated. We were driving up West End Avenue. The Fischer Center and NYBC were just north of us; my mom and Olivia and I must have done this drive a thousand times. Ten thousand times. Our being in the car together driving to Manhattan after school would have been perfectly normal if Olivia had been sitting with us and my mom hadn’t put her blinker on for another five blocks.

“Now …” She leaned forward and peered out the windshield, then braked for a yellow light. I wanted to scream at how slowly she was going. The back of the hospital loomed to our left. “I think the main entrance is right around the corner, so I’m going to … No. Wait. I can’t turn here.” She clicked off her blinker, even though there was no one behind us. “Maybe I’ll just look for a spot.” She leaned forward again and squinted. “Does that sign say ‘no parking any time’?”

The light was still red. My finger where I’d peeled off the nail throbbed. Something inside me felt tight, as if I were a balloon that had been blown up too big. I reached for the door handle. “I’m going to meet you inside.”

“Just give me a second to park.”

I opened the door. The cool breeze made me realize how stuffy it had been in the car. Why had we driven all the way with the windows closed?

“Zoe, wait!” The light south of us must have changed. Cars came up behind ours and started honking. My mom’s voice was shrill. “Zoe, the light’s changing.”

Actually, it had already changed, but I was out of the car. I slammed the door shut, ran three long steps, and, without even meaning to, did a grand jeté onto the curb as if I’d turned back the clock and Livvie and I were still ballerinas together.