Skipping Stones - COMPLETE

Chapter 6

WHEN I COME over the small hill that leads to the house from the creek, I can see Memaw pacing and Papa sitting in the van. Crap. Her hands go up in the air, as if to say finally. "Hey." Speaking in long sentences is difficult because I'm too out of breath. This is in part due to running, but also from the effect that Drew has on me. Though I want to say his name over and over, it's not possible. Now is not the time to be thinking of him. Struggling to concentrate, my bow furrows and I ask, "Where are we going?"

"It's your mother. She's taken a turn for the worse, Alex. We have to go. Get in the van now."

I swallow and shake my head. "No. No way." Disbelief. Denial. Call it what you want. It's like an out of body experience. Like I'm watching of my life. All I want is a pause button, or a rewind button.

She ushers me the rest of the way. My knees are too wobbly to make it on their own. "There's an infection, Alex. It's common, they say, in burn victims."

"We were only gone for a little bit." I plop down into the burgundy captain's chair in the backseat. "She was fine the last time we were there."

Papa glances over his shoulder and gives me a look of what I think is reassurance. It's his look of hope mixed with fear. I know my Papa's looks. As he puts the van in reverse, he says, "Things change quickly, Alex. Where were you anyway?"

Guilt. It's back. Guilt for being gone and delaying our arrival back to the hospital. Guilt for the few minutes that I wasn't concerned about my mother. Guilt for feeling anything other than sorrow at the significant loss I have incurred. Guilt for being a boy-crazed teenage girl and wishing that Drew would have kissed me.

Keeping my emotions under control is so hard. My body is tired and weak from fighting it. It's so hard. Even crying now reminds me of Drew, and that makes me feel a combination of guilt and anger. Anger for him coming into my life when I'm not in a position to do a darned thing about it. He called my tears beautiful I think as I watch the familiar scenery on the thirty-minute drive to the Burn Center at Doctor's Hospital.

***

THANKFULLY, TRAFFIC WASN'T too bad. We didn't get stopped by any trains. The drive was quiet. We enter the hospital and I say a quick prayer thanking God for this place, but I also beg him to please spare me a parent. Because I can't lose them both. I can't. I've always been told that He doesn't give us more than we're capable of handling. He has to know that I can't handle that.

As we exit the elevator on her floor, Papa tells me to sit in the waiting area until they get more information. I've only seen her once. While I want to see her, the last time that happened, I collapsed. It wasn't a good thing at all. The last thing the doctors and nurses need to be doing is taking care of me instead of her.

Getting the smell out of my mind has been impossible. Every time I close my eyes all I see is white and flames. It's quite a visualization. The white sheets that covered her body while they were waiting on the burn surgeon to consult. The fire from the explosion. The only way I can sleep is if I take the medicine the doctor prescribed and just wait until I can no longer keep my eyes open. Even then, I'm usually awoken with sweat and tears from the nightmares. In seconds I went from a perfectly normal, extremely intelligent, and pretty well-behaved teenage girl to a completely screwed up, confused girl.

I need my mom to pull through this. I need a reason to keep living with this agony. Otherwise, why would I continue to torture myself? Torture. Just a few days ago, my idea of torture was stupid ham hock soup and pear salad. What I'd give to have that be my only form of torture. Heck, I'd eat both every day for every meal if I could go get a hold of a rewind button. A lump forms in my throat. There are no rewind buttons.