The Meaning of Maggie (18 page)

I took a few deep breaths and decided to pull it together because this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I walked back out into the library, where I saw Margot talking to a new girl. Great, just when I thought
I had the competition beat a new girl showed up. Could this day get any worse? As I got closer, I realized it wasn't a new girl at all.

It was Layla.

At first I thought Mom had sent her with my scarf but the only thing in her hands were car keys. And they were shaking.

“What are you doing here?”

She looked at me and suddenly I was scared. Her face was streaked with mascara. “Maggie, it's Dad. He's in the hospital.”

A pit the size of the Grand Canyon filled my stomach. I grabbed her hand and we ran out to the car and she drove really fast, which was against the law, but I didn't care. I asked her a million questions that she barely answered.

“What happened?”

“It was a seizure.”

“Was Mom there?”

“No. She was on her way back from the library.”

“Oh no. Was he alone?”

“No. Tiffany was there. She called 911.”

“Oh God. An ambulance came?”

“Yes.”

“Where's Tiffany now?”

“At the hospital with Mom.”

“Is Dad going to be okay?”

(silence)

“IS DAD GOING TO BE OKAY?”

(silence)

“They.

Don't.

Know.”

I felt the splotches on my neck multiply by a million. We screeched into the only open space at the back of the hospital and ran across the parking lot and I sang the “Fifty Nifty United States” song in my head so my legs wouldn't stop running. Layla tugged my arm through the sliding doors, down hall after hall, past gown after gown, toward an elevator that BINGed and opened beneath a big sign that read, “Intensive Care Unit.”

We found Mom and Tiffany sitting on a waiting room bench. I wanted to run into Mom's arms but her hands had a death grip on a piece of tissue that she was twisting superhumanly tight. She didn't even notice us until I sat down right next to her and asked, “Where's Dad?” She turned her hazel eyes toward me. Right now they were more red than green.

“Oh Maggie, how was camp? Did you get a good assignment?”

I pulled the tissue from her hands and stared at her. “Is Dad okay?” And suddenly, I broke down into sobs, which Mayfields don't do because we always pull up our bootstraps, but I couldn't reach them. Not this time.

Tiffany grabbed my arm and yanked me into the hallway and I started hiccup crying, and although it's a little different, Mayfields really aren't supposed to do that either.

Tiffany knelt next to me and shook both my shoulders. “Pull it together. You're upsetting Mom.”

I couldn't catch my breath. “I don't want . . . Dad . . . to die.”

She shook me again. “Stop it. He's not gonna die!”

“What happened?”

She looked away. “He wasn't feeling well this morning so Mom made me call the doctor and then she left with you and I went to check on him and he wouldn't wake up. So I called 911. Mom got there just when the ambulance did and he started shaking and—”

I shook my head. “I don't think I'm supposed to know any of this.”

Tiffany wouldn't let me go. “You need to know this stuff, Maggie. You're not a little kid anymore!”

I yanked my arm away as hard as I could yank and yelled, “YES. I. AM.”

Tiffany yelled at me to grow up and I yelled at her to leave me alone and then I ran. I ran and ran. I ran down the hallway, past gown after scary gown, into the
elevator, down to the lobby, and out the door, where I collapsed on the pavement. Maybe I should have prayed. But I knew better. If a church didn't have room for our prayers, no way did a hospital.

I was crying a scary amount and I worried I might have depleted my body's water to around 40% of its usual 80%. Why should I grow up? Every time I tried to grow up I found out they were hiding stuff from me. Important stuff. And every time I asked for the truth Dad told me to wait ten years and Mom told me I wouldn't understand.

But I wanted to understand. I knew I couldn't fix Dad. No one could. But I wanted to know why all of this was happening to my family. To my dad.

I wanted to know why he said bad things didn't happen to good looking people but then they kept happening to us. I wanted to know why every time they convinced me something wasn't a big deal it turned into an even bigger deal. I wanted to know if things would have been different if I had been there. If we had just turned around to get my scarf, if I could have just seen Dad, I could have saved him. I could have held his hand so he wasn't holding his own. I could have gotten him a popsicle. I could have stopped him from shaking.

I started hyperventilating. I tried to stand up but I fell back to my knees. And then someone picked me up.

Mom carried me like she used to when I fell asleep in the car. I put my arms around her neck like I was five years old again. She sat me down on a bench, and then
she knelt in front of me and pushed my tear-soaked hair out of my hot face. I tried to talk but she just whispered, “Shh. Shh.”

Finally I calmed down enough to ask, “Is Dad okay?”

“Still haven't heard anything.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

“I'm going to tell you a story. Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

She hadn't. I knew she died when Mom was really little so I never asked about her. I don't know why. I guess to me, she hadn't really existed. I shook my head no and she went on.

“My mom was tall like Tiffany and kind like Layla and smart just like you. And she made dinner every night. And she sat on the porch while I caught fireflies. And she read me bedtime stories and then when I was eight, she died. And my childhood was over. My dad didn't know how to cook and clean so I learned how to do it. I did my homework and then I did housework. I made my first Thanksgiving dinner when I was nine. I was a grown-up before my time and I didn't realize how much fun being young could be until I met your father. He just kind of lit up my life and we went on adventures.

“And that is what I want for you, Maggie. I want you to have adventures. I want you to squeeze every ounce out of the time you have right now.”

I didn't know what to say, which was weird because I always had something to say.

She scooted up right next to me. “Your dad is sick. Very sick. But he is going to get better. And when he does, we're going to have a Maggie birthday do-over.”

I squeezed her tight. I didn't want a birthday do-over. I wanted my dad.

We went back up to the waiting room where it was minus one hundred degrees. I nuzzled in close to Mom's side again because it was warm there because her body functioned at a temperature higher than most adults because she had more to do than anyone else.

She winked at my sisters. “You know your father, he loves making a scene. But don't worry, girls. Everything's going to be okay.”

I felt safe next to her molten side. And I believed her. I believed her because when Mom said everything was going to be fine then everything would be fine because Mom did everything 100% which meant her promises were 100%. At least from now on.

Mom reached into her bag and dug around for a few seconds. When she found what she was looking for, she presented it in a big ta-da.

It was my scarf.

She wrapped it around my neck. “It was in the car. You must've left it when we went to see the fireworks.” She was right. She was always right. She'd kept the scarf promise 100%, which made me believe even more that Dad would be okay.

The next couple of hours were the longest hours in the history of hours. Mom was the only one allowed to see Dad and she would disappear for a few minutes and then come back and then disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes and then come back with a new tissue to twist even tighter. And each time she'd say, “Nothing new yet.”

I couldn't get comfortable in the waiting room because the chairs were made of rocks covered in ugly mauve fabric. I tried to read a magazine but they were all at least three months old. And I tried to watch TV but it was all reruns. I swear the whole place felt like it was on pause, including us. Nothing could happen until Dad was okay.

Layla and Tiffany were anxiously bouncing their legs up and down. If Dad had been there, he would have said, “Turn your motors off.” But Dad wasn't there. He was in a hospital room, all alone, wearing a gown we all knew he'd hate because cool dudes don't wear dresses. I listened to the clock tick then tock and we just kind of sat there. In silence. Waiting for someone to tell us something. Other families filed in and out in varying degrees of upset. But none of them stayed as long as we did because no one loved anyone as much as we loved Dad.

Tiffany got up to pace in the hall and Mom disappeared into the bathroom again and Layla and I just sat there in the most silent of silence. I hadn't been alone
with her since the car and before that I hadn't been alone with her since my student of the month breakfast. She looked really worried, like more worried than the rest of us. I felt we could both use a laugh so I finally broke the silence.

“Man, I could really use a cigarette.”

She laughed and sniffed. “What?”

“I don't know. That's what they say in the movies when something really intense is happening.”

Layla shook her head. “In what movie does that happen, Maggie?”

“I can't think of one exactly, but I swear I've heard it before. Maybe I read it in a book. It sounds like something they would say in
The Great Gatsby
.” I gave myself a 1920s gangster accent and said, “Yeah, you see doll, I could really use a cigarette.”

Layla laughed again and then tried not to. “We shouldn't be laughing.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is scary.”

“Why are you so scared? You know more than the rest of us.”

She came over and sat next me and I immediately felt weird. Layla never voluntarily sat next to me. Even at the dinner table, my chair was way on the other end. Plus, I was scared she'd smell her perfume, which I'd sprayed all over my body before I'd left the house.

“I know you're upset with Mom and Dad for not telling you everything that's been going on.” Her eyes welled with tears. “But I swear, as much as you wish you knew more, I double wish that I knew less.”

You know how in
Sleeping Beauty
, the prince kisses the princess and she wakes up? Well at least, I hear that's how it happened. I don't like seeing kissing so I always look away at that part. But that's kind of how I felt when Layla said what she did. A kiss didn't shake me out of sleep. Her words did.

And I hadn't even realized I'd been asleep. Metaphorically asleep. Figuratively in the dark about one huge thing: All that was happening wasn't just happening to me. It was happening to all five of us. And all of us were scared. All of us were confused. And none of us knew what was going to happen next. But that didn't stop Layla from taking care of Dad every morning and being Mom when Mom didn't have time to be Mom. And it didn't stop Mom from working so hard so much both at work and at home. And while Tiffany was mostly a jerk, at the same time she was mostly brave especially for calling 911 when she did. And Dad, geez, Dad. He was fighting with all his might. Not just for him. But for all of us.

I realized I hadn't been alone in my mission. All five of us were trying to fix Dad.

At that moment, Mom burst back in through the doors. “Maggie! It's still your birthday!”

I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Just for a couple more hours.”

Tiffany came back just in time to roll her eyes. “Um, you did get fifteen whole days before today.”

“Fourteen. Today doesn't count.”

Mom reached into her bag again. “Well, I brought one of your presents. I meant to give it to you before your class, but—” She handed me the package and I felt more TERRIBLE than I have ever felt in my life.

I felt TERRIBLE as a rush of remembering reminded me of the big deal I'd made out of my scarf before. I looked away. “I don't deserve any gifts. I'm a horrible, horrible person.”

“That's what I've been saying all along!” Tiffany said.

Mom shot her a death stare and sat next to me on the bench. “Of course you deserve it. Here, open it.”

I unpeeled the wrapping paper and pulled out the most beautiful leather-bound journal I'd ever seen. It smelled old and new at the same time and the pages were yellow like the paper the Declaration of Independence was written on. This paper was clearly for big deal writing.

I pushed it away. “I can't take this. It's too nice.”

Mom pushed it back. “Exactly. You need a really nice journal to write your memoir in.”

This was the single best gift I'd ever received on the single worst day of my entire life. I hugged the journal
close and then I hugged Mom and then I went to hug Tiffany but then I remembered that I hated her.

Mom gave Layla change for the vending machine and she bought us four Otis Spunkmeyer cookies, which were DELICIOUS. Mom asked around the waiting room to see if anyone had matches and an old man with a pipe let her have one of his, so she struck it, stuck it in my cookie, and told me to make a wish.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and wished for Dad to be okay. And it worked! An hour later, the nurse came and got us.

We all walked down the hall through two giant doors and down another hall. Mom held my hand and covered my eyes as we walked past a scary row of rooms. But even though I couldn't see, I could still smell the serious sick coming from inside. When we got to Dad's room, Mom uncovered my eyes, pulled back the curtain, and there he was.

Dad smiled. “I need a cocktail.”

Layla ran for his neck, Tiffany ran for his waist, and I ran for his legs because it was the only place left to run to.