I can’t stand what we’re becoming.’
‘You’re upset. Please calm down.’
‘Like that’ll make things better?’ she asked, seeming angrier than ever. ‘I talked with my mother today. Chloe and I are going to visit her.’
The phone rang. Ignoring it, he asked, ‘For how long?’
‘A couple of weeks. I need to figure things out. We have a problem, Chris. You’re not calm, you’re passive.’ The phone rang again. ‘I ask what you think about putting Chloe in a playgroup, and you throw the question back at me. I ask if you want to invite the Bakers for dinner Saturday night, and you tell me to do it if I want. Those aren’t answers,’ she said as another ring came. ‘They’re evasions. Do you feel anything, Chris?’
Unable to respond, he reached for the phone. ‘Yeah.’
‘It’s me,’ his sister said in a high voice. ‘We have a serious problem.’
Turning away from his wife, he ducked his head. ‘Not now, Molly.’
‘Robin had a heart attack.’
‘Uh, can I call you back?’
‘Chris, I need you here now! Mom and Dad don’t know yet.’
‘Don’t know what?’
‘That Robin had a heart attack,’ Molly cried. ‘She keeled over in the middle of a run and is still unconscious. Mom and Dad haven’t landed. I can’t do this alone.’
He stood straighter. ‘A heart attack?’
Erin materialized beside him. ‘Your dad?’ she whispered, taking Chloe.
Shaking his head, he let the child go. ‘Robin. Oh boy. She pushed herself too far.’
‘Will you come?’ Molly asked.
‘Where are you?’ He listened for a minute, then hung up the phone.
‘A heart attack?’ Erin asked. ‘Robin?’
‘That’s what Molly said. Maybe she’s exaggerating. She gets wound up sometimes.’
‘Because she shows emotion?’ Erin shot back, but then softened. ‘Where are your parents?’
‘Flying home from Atlanta. I’d better go.’
He stroked Chloe’s head, and, conciliatorily, touched Erin’s. She was the one on his mind as he set off. They had only been married for two years, the last third of that time with a child, and he tried to understand how dramatically her life had changed. But what about him? She asked if he felt things. He felt responsibility. Right now, he felt fear. Being quiet was part of his nature. His dad was the same way, and it worked for him.
Molly, on the other hand, tended to be highly imaginative. Robin might have suffered something, but a heart attack was pushing it. He might have talked her down over the phone, if he hadn’t wanted to get out of the house. Erin needed time to cool off.
Did he feel things? He sure did. He just didn’t get hysterical.
Putting on his indicator he turned in at the hospital. He had barely parked at the Emergency entrance when Molly was running toward him, her blond hair flying and her eyes panicked.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked, leaving the car.
‘Nothing. Nothing. She hasn’t woken up!’
He stopped walking. ‘Really?’
‘She had a heart attack, Chris. They think there’s brain damage.’
She drew him inside, through the waiting room to a far cubicle–and there was Robin, inert as he had never seen her. He stood at the door for the longest time, looking from her body to the machines to the doctor by her side.
Finally, he approached. ‘I’m her brother,’ he said and stopped. He didn’t know where to begin.
The doctor began for him, repeating some of what Molly had said and moving on. Chris listened, trying to take it in. At the doctor’s urging, he talked to Robin, but she didn’t respond. He followed the physician’s explanation of the various machines and stood with him at the X-ray screen. Yes, he could see what the doctor was pointing out, but it was too bizarre.
He must have been looking doubtful, because the doctor said, ‘She’s an athlete. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy–inflammation of the heart muscle–is the leading cause of sudden death in athletes. It doesn’t happen often, and the instance is even lower in women than men. But it does happen.’
‘Without warning?’
‘Usually. In cases where there’s a known family history, a screening echocardiogram may diagnose it, but many victims are asymptomatic. Once she’s in the ICU, she’ll have an intensive care specialist heading her case. He’ll work with a cardiologist and a neurologist.’
Chris knew his parents would want the best, but how could he know who that was? Feeling inadequate, he looked at his watch. ‘What time do they land?’ he asked Molly.
‘Any minute.’
‘Are you going to call?’
‘You are. I’m too upset.’
And Chris wasn’t? Did he have to be visibly shaking? Facing the doctor, he said, ‘Is this–what is she–comatose?’
‘Yes, but there are different levels of coma.’ He pushed up black glasses with the back of his hand. ‘At most levels, patients make spontaneous movements. The fact that your sister hasn’t suggests the highest level of coma.’
‘How do you measure it?’ Chris asked. He didn’t know what he was looking for, only knew that Molly was standing at his elbow taking in every word, and that his parents would ask the same questions. Numbers had meaning. They were a place to start.
‘A CAT scan or an MRI will show if there’s tissue death, but those tests will have to wait until she’s more stable.’
Chris glanced at Molly. ‘Try calling Mom and Dad.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered, looking terrified. ‘I was supposed to be with her. This was my fault.’
‘Like it wouldn’t have happened if you’d been waiting five miles down the road? Be real, Molly. Call Mom and Dad.’
‘They won’t believe me. You didn’t.’
She was right. But he didn’t want to call. ‘You’re better with Mom than I am. You’ll know what to say.’
‘You’re older, Chris. You’re the man.’
He took the phone from his pocket. ‘Men stink at things like this. It’ll be enough when she sees my caller ID.’ With a sharp look, he passed her the phone.
Kathryn
