Changing Fate (10 page)

My fear isn’t so much about them letting me go anymore. If something happens, how will
I
be able to let go?

I walk into school the next morning and stop right inside the front door. Across the common area, Giana’s sitting behind a table with a poster taped to the front that says,
Sign up for the CF walk
.

I stand still and debate whether I should go over or not. This must be her next approach at getting fellow students to care about an uncommon disease.
Several kinds walk by, some glance at her poster but most ignore her altogether. Yeah, it’s going really well. She’s definitely preaching to the wrong crowd.

I push back my annoyance and turn my feet in her direction. In the time it takes me to get there, Mo has laughed twice at something Giana said and now has his hand around the back of her chair. I pause. Maybe it’s a bad time to interrupt.

“Hey, Kate.” Giana waves at me and I close the distance.

I tilt my head and try not to stare at Mo’s hand on her shoulder. Even though the CF awareness campaign may not be going well, their relationship must be on the right path. “Hey,
Giana
.” Yes, I emphasize her name. It’s the only way to secretly tell her that I want to know what’s going on.

She leans forward, grabs a full-sheet flyer, and hands it to me. “What do you think?”

I scan the info—which lists the basic CF symptoms and walk info at the bottom. “You do realize this is in four months, right?”

She beams and Mo’s hand moves forward to tickle her back. My eyebrows shoot up, but she ignores them. “It’s never too early to let people know about ways to help a good cause.”

I put the paper on top of the stack. “How long are you going to stay out here? Doesn’t class start soon?”

She turns to Mo and he checks his cell phone. “Ten minutes,” he says.

“I’ll wait a couple more minutes and pack up right before class.”

I have to think of something to distract me from Mo’s sudden interest in Giana. Otherwise, I’m going to ask for more details with him sitting right there. “How’s your niece?”

Giana’s smile droops a little, but not completely. I can tell she’s trying to stay happy about the whole thing. “Good, I guess.”

Dang. Mo’s
got his fingers in Giana’s hair.

A cough tickles the back of my throat and makes my eyes water. When it comes out, I struggle to get a good breath. Giana stands up and puts a hand on my back. “Maybe you should get a drink.”

I manage to say, “Come with me.”

“Okay.” She tells Mo she’ll be right back. Not that he needs to worry, the drinking fountain is only twenty feet away.

The second I stop drinking, I ask, “Since when did you two become a
thing
?”

Giana turns her head. “Sorry, too close to my bad ear. I didn’t hear you.”

I repeat the question.

Her face goes red
. “We’re not really a thing.”

I give her a funny look and shake my head. “Yes, you are.”

She giggles. “So, maybe he does like me a little.”

I
lift an eyebrow. “Sure. Just a little.”

She touches my arm. “What about you and Kyler?”

“What about us?”

“Tammy told me she heard from Lily that you two were holding hands in the hallway.”

Of course Lily would know about it. Vivian probably told her. My cheeks suddenly feel flushed and Giana’s bouncing on her toes again.

“I knew your date went better than you said. You like him right?”

Now my cheeks are burning. “Of course I do. Why else would we be holding hands?”

“I’m so excited for you two. Did you tell him about your CF yet?”

Her question kills my excitement. Short answer: no. Long answer: I haven’t said anything because I’m afraid it will scare him away. I bite my lip and shake my head.

Giana calms down. “It’s okay, Kate. I was just curious.” She touches my arm again. “But I think he’d understand. Kyler’s really a great guy.”

I groan. “I know he is. And that’s why I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to lose him.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “You won’t. Only an idiot would let that bother them.”

Right?

“Giana,” Mo calls across the commons area. “It’s time to pack up.”

“Guess I better go,” she says.

I
nod. “Yeah, me too.”

When I get to psychology, Kyler’s already sitting in his chair. He tu
rns around and winks at me as the teacher starts class.

My conversation with Giana makes me wonder what Kyler would really do if he found out. He’s gone through some hard things, so maybe he’d understand. But what if he doesn’t want to be with me
because
he’s gone through something so hard before? I’d have to tell him that there’s a possibility that I’ll die, and the thought of him losing someone else crumbles my heart. 

Maybe I should just break things off with him.

I gaze at his back and tune out everything else—everything but the pounding against my ribs and the soft sound of his voice in my mind. It pulls at my emotions and fills me with hope. I try to remember what kept me going before I met him, but it doesn’t work. It’s
his
hand that leads me down French streets. His voice that erases pain better than most medication. His attention that makes me feel like a priceless work of art.

No. I can’t push him away. I’ll tell him about my cystic fibrosis, and if he decides he doesn’t want to be with me, at least I can hold onto his memories. Without them, I might drown in the constant battle to stay alive.

A tear escapes through my closed eyelids and I rub it away with my palm. I press my eyes, pushing back any more tears that might reveal my secrets. It doesn’t work. I sniff hard and it comes out as a terrible cough. I open my eyes and find Kyler watching me as I cry, cough, and plan to tell him something that just might scare him away.

I jump from my seat and
rush to the bathroom. Only then do I let the tears flow. Each time I gasp for air, another cough joins the battle. Back and forth. It’s like I’m grieving for a lifetime of sickness in this one moment. I’m loud and sick and when I finally settle down, I’m a mess. Even if Kyler doesn’t leave me because of my disease, my new look will scare him away in a second.

I’ll tell him tomorrow. Today, I’m going home. My throat aches, my stomach hurts, and there’s a throbbing in my chest that’s turning my brain to mush. I can’t learn anything like this. Besides, it will take all day to prepare me for my confession in the morning.

Giana’s right. Kyler should know.

The first thing on my mind in the morning is Kyler. I’m telling Kyler about my CF today. Even though I’m still not ready, it’s time. I want him to like me for
all
of me.

I breathe in and cough out. That’s how my mornings go, but this is different…something’s not right. I open my eyes and it’s dark. One look at the glowing clock confirms that it’s not morning. Why am I awake at four thirty? I turn onto my back and gasp from a sharp pain on my right side. My sudden intake of air makes me curl in a ball, coughing until my vision gets blurry.

I can’t move.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t stop coughing.

I struggle out of bed and crawl across my room to get my inhaler. It shakes between my trembling fingers, but I get a good hold on it and
breathe in a dose of meds. The pain in my back pierces through my body and there’s a deep ache in my chest.

I fall to the floor and cry out. Seconds late
r, the door swings open and Mom enters. Her eyes scan my bed and she finally finds me.

“Kate,” she gasps. Her face turns to stone a
s she dashes across my room to kneel beside me.

A moan curdles in my throat.

“Where does it hurt?” she asks in a flat voice. Even though her questions are calculated and monotone, her hands are gentle on my face.

“My back.”

“Your back? Maybe you have a rib out.”

I cough so hard it brings up yucky stuff and Mom grabs a tissue. Behind her rigid eyes,
there’s a shred of panic.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” she asks quickly.

I pat my chest and try for another deep breath. It hurts too bad. Tears sting my eyes and I fight them down. Another crying episode might result in one cough too many. It’s hard to talk, but I need to explain everything to my mom. “It’s…hard…to breathe.” Long exhale.

Mom grabs my pillow and lightly rests my head on top. “I’m getting my keys and we’re going to the hospital. Do you think you can walk?”

“No.”

Mom
runs out of the room and returns in a minute. Somehow she’s dressed with shoes on and a purse over her shoulder. “I’m going to help you to the car. Stay with me, okay?”

Sure. Stay with her; don’t let the pain take over my thoughts completely. Mom picks me up and slides a hand under my armpits. Most of my weight is on her, but I do my best to move my feet down the hall, out the door, and into the car. Mom sinks behind the wheel and we’re off to the hospital.

The hospital. My brain starts to shut off but Mom said to stay with her. If I zone out, it might be too hard to tune back in. Instead I close my eyes and curl into a ball, still coughing and still struggling to take each breath. But I do, in and out, in and out. It helps to focus on that one thing.

“We’re here,” Mom finally says.

I don’t move until she has my door open. She calls out for a wheelchair and places a hand on my arm.

“It’s going to be okay, Kate. Everything will be okay.”

That’s what we always say. And it’s always been true, but this time I’m not sure it’s going to work out. I’m hoping for the best, but it seems impossible when the worst is staring me right in the face. As much as I try not to tune out, the only way my mind can handle everything is to mush it all together. If I focus too much on one thing, it might consume me completely. I’m wheeled into triage where they take my stats and do a few oxygen tests. When the nurse tries to listen to my lungs, his face pulls into a sudden frown.

He opens his mouth and my hands tighten around the armrests. I close my eyes for the bad news.

“We need to get an x-ray of her lungs right away.”

I’m moving, going down one hall and into another. The nurse pushes me fast and Mom has to hurry to keep up. Her hard features have turned into angled lines. Worried, tired, set on getting me better. They wheel me right into an x-ray room and move me to the table. It’s hard to get a good picture since I’m coughing so much. But once the task is done, I’m wheeled into a hospital room and moved to a bed.

The nurse questions my mom while he hooks me up with some oxygen. He starts an IV and tells Mom that they’re giving me pain medication for my back and chest.

“We’ve called Doctor Perry,” the nurse says. “He should be here in a few minutes. Once he arrives, he’ll look at the x-rays and take things from there.”

The second he leaves, Mom comes to my side. Her hard outer shell is gone. A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it away with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know how much you hate being here.”

I stare at her and
blink through the first wave of pain-killer haze. It’s taking over my words and making my eyelids droop. 

Mom sniffles. “Get some rest, Kate.”

I close my eyes, but I can’t clear my mind. A thought keeps me awake: I never got to tell Kyler about my disease. Now I may never get the chance.

Doc Perry walks in.
My eyelids are heavy but I manage to keep them open. Doc’s standing at the wall in front of an x-ray reader. When he steps back, I see the x-ray of my lungs. They don’t look right. The two sides don’t match. Doc glances at me and nods. He knows I can tell something’s wrong.

“Your right lung is seventy percent collapsed,” he says.

I can’t decide whether I should mourn the seventy percent or be happy that I still have the other thirty. Without it, I would have been dead by now.

“We’re going to insert a chest tube to remove the air and fluid that have taken over the empty space.”

There’s a knock at the door and Doc Perry lets in the nurse with a tray. Of all the things on it, the one that catches my eye is a big needle. Huge. It makes my stomach tighten and my hands tremble. Now? Aren’t they going to numb me first? The nurse sets the tray next to my bed and Doc steps closer. He pulls down the top of my gown and feels around my chest.

His finger stops and he says, “Here.”

The nurse hands him the needle and he doesn’t even tell me it’s going to hurt. I know it is. I just hope the pain meds in my IV will help. The needle goes in and I try to scream. My brain is shutting down. I’m losing consciousness. I can’t do this. I can’t think. There’s only pain.

Deep.

Sharp.

Pain.

It pierces my chest and radiates outward. A slight pressure on my hand diverts my attention. I try to move my fingers but someone’s squeezing them. It must be Mom and she must be trying to keep me here. Just like she said. “Stay with me.”

I fight against the pain with every last ounce of energy. Sweat trickles down my forehead and leaves a cool path behind. Think about cool, think about sweat, think about…anything but the pain. The pressure lets up and I barely lift an eyelid. The needle is sticking out of my chest and Doc’s putting a tiny tube into it. Down it goes, into my body. And then it’s done, the needle comes out and the tube is attached to a suction that does all the work.

They clean up and turn to my mom to discuss details. I ease into a distant place. One without extra therapy, meds, or visits. They’ll come when they need to come and I’ll be here, tied to the bed by a twelve foot tube. I stare at the ceiling and grasp for a happy thought.

Kyler…

No, I can’t think about him without feeling bad that I never shared my biggest secret. He told me of his mother’s death and instead of trusting him with mine, I kept it to myself. Now he might not ever find out from me. I clench my fists and sort through my brain for a different kind of distraction.

Darts. I need my darts and target. I need something…anything to channel my anger before the blank walls and tinted windows drive me crazy. The specks on the ceiling mesh together and the muffled conversation between Doc Perry and Mom slips away. They must’ve put something in my I
V. It’s the only explanation behind my sudden stillness. I can’t hold on much longer. Mom said to stay with her, but it’s impossible. We’ve hit the worst and now we just need to hope for the best.

Before the meds take over completely, I find the voice that lulls me into a calm trance. I can’t fight thoughts of Kyler now. He may never know the hope and peace his clear, smooth voice brings me. My anger from earlier disappears and leaves
his image in my mind. His freckles, boyish curls, and soft words take over my thoughts. I let the music fill my head and fall into a quiet slumber. 

* * *

I wake up to the familiar speckled ceiling. A whiteboard across the room has a series of times and meds recorded in black marker. Up in the right corner is the name of my nurse. Ember. I think it’s a female name, but I’m not certain. When the door opens and a strange woman walks in, all doubts wash away.

“Alrighty,” she says after washing her hands. “Time for your meds.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

She shrugs. “Only a few hours, but I’m glad you’re awake.”

I lift an eyebrow. She’s probably only glad because it gives her one less thing to worry about.

She continues, “And we need to order some food. It’s almost time to switch your IV as well. If we get it all finished, you’ll have time to rest again.”

After the list she just recited, I’m not sure I’m going to get
any
rest. “Where’s my mom?”

Ember
exchanges my IV bags and turns to me. “She had to get to work but she’ll be by as soon as she’s off.”

Awesome. Now I’m on a strict schedule in a place that smells like iodine and I get to share all my time with Ember. Not that I don’t like her…I just don’t like being here. We start my meds, run some tests, and then I eat. Lots of food. Since my body doesn’t absorb it well, it takes a lot of calories to keep my energy up. Even after a full meal, I’m exhausted. I fall back to sleep until Ember wakes me up to do it all again.

Every day.

In that room.

Mom stops by as often as she can, but the days drag on. I spend my time watching mindless television shows and imagining different ways to get out of the hospital. Not realistic ones, of course: ones that use karate moves and sleeping darts. It’s pointless, but it helps.  

One night, Mom comes right after I finish my dinner. My stomach hurts and I hate eating so much, but I have to.

“Hey, honey.” Mom flings her purse on the couch and comes right to my bed. “How’s my favorite girl?”

I smile. She has asked me the same question during every hospital visit since I could remember. “I need something to keep my mind off of…” I can’t say the next words, but I don’t have to. Mom
already knows.

“That’s why I brought you this.” She pulls out a stack of DVDs and sets them on my table.

“What are they?”

“You don’t know this, but I filmed almost every one of your karate lessons.”

I tilt my head. “What about the ones you were teaching?”

“Bob filmed those.”

He’s the manager of the studio. I slide my hand over a DVD case, the smooth plastic slick beneath my fingers. This could be good…or really bad. I never got my black belt, but I could fend for myself in a one-on-one fight. My first lesson was right after Mom told Dad I was dead.

I swallow and
narrow my eyes on Mom. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

My heart pulses and I scratch my face under the oxygen tube. “Why did you tell Dad that I was dead?”

Mom’s face hardens and her jaw twitches. I’m sure she didn’t expect that question but it’s something I’ve thought about off and on
since she shut the door in his face. I didn’t dare ask her before but now it feels right. Besides, there might not be much time left for her to answer anything.

At first I don’t think she’s going to answer. She
rubs her hands across her lap and takes a deep breath. “He made his choice when he left the first time, Kate. I didn’t want him to walk out again.”

“But how do you know he would? You never gave him the chance.”
Not that I did either. I just sat there when he was standing ten feet away. Sometimes I wish I’d done something to let him know I was actually there. 

Her lips press together and she closes her eyes. “You don’t know him the way I did. We were together five years before I even got pregnant with you. He was in and out of the relationship all the time. I thought he would change after we got married but when he left, I knew he
’d never come back. Not for real. I needed him to be gone…for the both of us.”

I bite my quivering lip.
Having him around sometimes might have been better than never. I have no idea what it’s like to have a father. No uncles, grandfathers, nothing. Just doctors who want to know how much I weigh and how much oxygen I have in my body.

Mom puts her head down and pin
ches the bridge of her nose. I rub my eyes and let thoughts of Dad melt away. Of course there’s no dad that could replace the love of my mom. And right now, she needs me just as much as I need her. I put a hand on her shoulder and she lifts her face. Tears stream down her cheeks and I pull her into an awkward hug.