Counting Thyme (25 page)

LOST

WHEN A CANCER PATIENT GETS SICK, THEY GET REALLY SICK.
Their skin turns kind of yellow. Their cheeks get hollow. They suddenly look as close to death as they really are. The last time Val had been in the hospital for chemotherapy, he hadn't looked as bad as a lot of the other patients there. But he wasn't himself. He was thin. Frail. A ghost.

When Mrs. Ravelli and I arrived at the hospital, Mom and Dad were standing in the hall with a heavyset doctor in a white coat. He had a beard like Dad's and a tablet in his hands.

“We've started the first course of antibiotics,” the doctor said, “but given that his chest films aren't completely clear and his temperature is so high, we'd like to observe him overnight.”

Mom and Dad nodded. Then they saw me standing there.

“Thank you, Dr. Everett,” Mom said, saying good-bye without introducing me.

She and Dad walked over to us. “Your sister's in with Val,” Dad said. Then he nodded toward the door, like I should go in, too. It was another room where I didn't know what to expect.

Mrs. Ravelli set her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I will see you later,
bambina
.”

I nodded and went inside.

The lights were turned low. Val was asleep in the narrow hospital bed on the other side of the room, beneath a giant painted mural of Winnie-the-Pooh. Long, clear tubes trailed from the crook of his arm to a stand beside the bed. Machines crowded close to the stand, their displays full of ominous lights and numbers, none of which meant anything to me beyond the reality that my brother was sick.

Cori was in a chair next to Val's bed. She sat up when I walked over. She didn't say anything. She just gave me a hug. After a long minute, she wiped at her eyes and said, “He'll be okay,” like she had the power to decide.

“But the doctor said his films weren't good. And his fever is too high.”

She frowned. “Yeah, I know. I'm gonna get a Coke, okay? I'll send Dad in here.”

“No, I'm fine by myself.”

She touched my shoulder. “You sure?” I nodded, and her eyes met mine. She looked as scared as I felt. The chest films were a bad sign. Maybe the 3F8 wasn't working. Maybe the cancer had come back. Even if it was just a really bad infection, Val's body was so weak from all the treatments he'd been through that he could have trouble fighting it off. He could die.

After she left, I stood right next to Val's bed and looked at his face. His bones seemed to stick out too much all of a
sudden. I ran my fingers over his arm, and he stirred in his sleep, furrowing his brow like he was about to open his eyes and ask me a tough question. I would have been happy to answer one right about then, but he didn't wake up.

The sky outside grew dark, while Mom and Dad took turns watching over Val and helping the nurses. After so many trips to the hospital, they knew how everything worked. Val's temperature didn't go back to normal, but it didn't climb any higher.

“It's a holding pattern,” Dad said as he rubbed at his eyes late that night. “We won't know more until something changes. Why don't you try to get some rest.”

I let him tuck me into one of the two reclining chairs in Val's room. Most hospitals had them—a chair that looked regular but stretched out so that you could stay in the room overnight. I lay there for a long time, watching Val, hearing the nurses come and go, thinking I would never fall asleep.

Then it was morning, and Cori was shaking my shoulder. “Come on, T. Time to get up.”

I sat up quickly, wondering what had changed, but Val was still in the bed. His face was so pale, it barely stood out against the sheets, but there was a bright red spot on each of his cheeks, like clown makeup, and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

“What time is it?”

“Close to lunch,” Cori said as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Where's Mom?”

“Outside,” Cori said. “I crashed in the other chair, but she and Dad were up all night.”

We went out into the hall. Mrs. Ravelli was there with my parents.

“It's going to be a while until we know more,” Dad said. “It doesn't make sense for you girls to stay here all day. Val's stable, so you're going home with Mrs. Ravelli for now.”

Mrs. Ravelli gave me an encouraging nod, but Cori's face darkened. “No way,” she said. “You can't make me leave.”

“Honey, remember what we talked about,” Mom told her, and Cori softened. I couldn't believe it. What could they have possibly talked about that would make Cori give up like that?

Dad had a bag in his hands. I realized it was my book bag.

He handed it to Mrs. Ravelli, and she gave me a little wave. I was supposed to follow her like a good little girl. But I had that feeling again, that there was something Mom and Dad weren't telling me. And if I walked out right then like I was supposed to, I might never know the truth. So I stood my ground.

“Why do I have to leave?” I asked. “What's happening to Val? Is something wrong?”

“It's nothing,” Mom said, way too quickly. “We just want you to get some rest.”

“I don't need any rest,” I said. “I slept in the chair.”

Dad smiled. “I know you want to be tough for your brother, but trust us—”

“Trust
you
? You never tell me what's going on!”

Cori's mouth fell open, and Mom and Dad looked at each
other in surprise. They could think what they wanted. I was tired of being lied to.

Just then, Dr. Everett walked up to us. “Good morning, folks,” he said. “It looks like we can fit Val in for a set of scans a little earlier than I thought.”

“What?” I said. Mom and Dad hadn't said anything about scans to us.

Mom glanced at me. “Maybe we should talk inside,” she told the doctor, and he smiled like that sounded just fine to him. Well, I wasn't going to let them leave me out anymore.

“What's wrong with my brother?” I asked, looking right at Dr. Everett. I hoped that maybe he was under some medical obligation to tell me the truth.

“We're not sure yet, but we hope to know more soon,” he answered carefully, with a smile that said he didn't expect me to understand how complicated all of this was.

I changed tactics.

“Is he rejecting the 3F8? Or is the cancer back? Is that why he's having scans? You need to tell me what's going on.
Now.
”

The doctor raised his eyebrows, while Mom and Dad stared at me like they were really seeing me for the first time.

“Mr. and Mrs. Owens?” Dr. Everett said.

Mom just stood there, but Dad finally said, “All right. First, we're still waiting on the HAMA results, but we don't think the fever is from Val rejecting the 3F8. So far, his immune system's been too weak to fight the antibodies. And yes, he's having scans to check for any signs that the cancer is back. Hopefully they won't find anything.”

“So it might just be an infection?”

“It very well might be,” the doctor said. “But we have to rule out a relapse first.”

“What happens if the scans are clear?” I had this crazy hope that maybe, if Val's cancer hadn't come back, it would mean that we were done, and the New York experiment would be over.

“If all goes according to plan, your brother can continue receiving 3F8 for up to two years,” Dr. Everett said, like it was the best news in the world.

Mom let out a deep breath while the words settled in the air.

Two years.

Two years.

As soon as the words clicked, all of those good feelings I'd been having about my new friends and the play vanished. I couldn't stay in New York for two years. I'd thought a few months wouldn't be that bad, but look at what had happened with the tornado machine. It was a total failure. I didn't belong here. I wasn't ready to say good-bye to my life—Shani, Grandma Kay, the secret garden we'd planted together, my room, our
house
.

Dr. Everett excused himself, and Mom and Dad said good-bye.

Then Dad kneeled in front of me. He was so tall, his head was still level with mine, even down on one knee. “Go home and get some rest. We'll call you if anything changes, I promise.”

I looked at Mom. She gave me a small smile and nodded.

Mrs. Ravelli took my arm. Numb, I followed her out of the hospital. At first Cori tried to talk to me, but after three non-responses, she gave up. All I could think was that I'd done everything wrong. I'd let myself get close to people when I should have been focusing on getting home. And now Val was sick, and I couldn't leave, when the last thing I wanted was to stay.

On the way home, Mrs. Ravelli stopped to pick up doughnuts, but I wasn't hungry. As soon as we got to the apartment, I called Shani. The phone rang and rang, even though it was Saturday afternoon, which meant it was still Saturday morning in California. Someone should have been home, but no one picked up. So I left her a message.

“It's me,” I said. “Things are bad. Things are so, so bad, and I know I really messed up. So please call me as soon as you get this. I need to talk to you.”

When I got off the phone, Mrs. Ravelli was waiting. “Maybe you like a hot chocolate?”

I shook my head, went straight to my bed, and fell asleep. When I woke up, the room was dark. Cori was still passed out on her bed. I left her sleeping and walked to the kitchen.

Mrs. Ravelli looked up from the pot she was stirring. “
Ciao, bambina.
Are you hungry? I made sauce.” She held up the spoon, and my stomach growled. “Also, your friend called while you were asleep,” she said.

I snapped awake. “Shani called?”

“No, the girl Emily.”

“Oh.” I didn't want to hear from Emily. I wanted Shani to call me back. The idea that she might never talk to me again made tears spring to my eyes. How could I have been so dumb?

“
Bambina,
” Mrs. Ravelli said, reaching for me, but I pulled away. I didn't want her comfort. I wanted to leave all of this behind. I wanted things to go back to normal.

I went back to my room. Cori was awake and writing something in her journal. She'd been doing that more lately, just writing quietly instead of blasting music and painting everything in sight. It didn't make sense, how she'd changed so much since her big talk with Mom. She probably even thought it was a good thing that we might stay in New York for two years.

I grabbed the Thyme Jar and dumped the paper slips out on my bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Can you just leave me alone? I'm trying to count.”

She watched as I sorted through the papers, but she didn't say anything else.

Seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one . . .

The phone rang.

“It's for me!” I shouted, running for the phone. I knew it was Shani. She wouldn't leave me hanging when I needed her. My heart leapt when I picked up the handset. Sure enough, the number on the screen was hers.