Page 39 of On the Bright Side
At 9:45, I send another text and quickly check his socials. No response or recent posts. Is everything all right?
Yet as time passes, I start to feel more upset. No one is two hours late. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s funny how quickly my emotions and thoughts turn.
Maybe Jackson and that asshole from the soccer team who started the rumor about me are hanging out, having a big old laugh at my expense. Or maybe I’m drifting into some serious paranoia to try to spare my own feelings here. Should I go to the museum without him anyway?
I’ve never been stood up before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Chapter Eighteen
Jackson
I hold myselfas tight as I can in the wheelchair, totally unaware of the world around me as I try to keep still and fight the dizziness. After waiting what could have been either ten long minutes or two even longer hours, I’m wheeled into a small exam room.
“Can you get him up there?” the nurse asks.
My parents each grab an arm, helping me climb up to the table. I’m gonna be sick again.
The nurse has already supplied me with a barf bag. I retch. Almost nothing comes out.
My parents answer questions. Someone might have taken my pulse. I lie back on the exam table. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
“Mm-hmm.” I pull my knees to my chest and curl up tight.
“Jackson, honey.”
My eyes flutter open as I hear my mom’s voice. I brave lifting my head ever so slightly. The doctor is here now, and I’m feeling a bit better. I can see more clearly. My eyes seem stable.
But now how do I explain what the problem was if it’s gone? How do I prove what was happening?
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” the doctor asks while doing a cursory check of my ears.
“I woke up, and it was like my eyes were moving on their own.” I motion with my hands to try to convey how my vision was acting. “And then I gotreallydizzy. And threw up. A lot.”
The doctor examines my eyes next. We do a test where she makes me lie down quickly and turn my head to one side. Nothing happens. I do it again but with the other side. This time, a small flutter. The threat of dizziness. But nothing more occurs.
“We’ll get you on an IV with some anti-nausea medication.” She makes note of something on a clipboard. “This could be positional vertigo, which has to do with some calcium crystals in the inner ear getting stuck where they don’t belong. There are some exercises you can do at home to try to treat this.”
“What sort of exercises?” my mom asks, probably already envisioning the yoga mat rolled out on our living room floor. She’s got blocks she’d lend me, too. Unlike the summer, this time I’m probably not getting out of her remedies. But just the idea of dipping my head in downward dog right now makes me want to barf again.
The doctor is encouraging. “They’re simple. I’ll print out instructions.” She finally looks back from my parents to me.
“Okay.” I’m not sure what else there is to say. My mouth is incredibly dry.
“You can lie back down.” The doctor moves to the door. “The nurse will be back with the IV and papers.”
Once we’re alone in the room, my parents both breathe a sigh of relief. “Just vertigo,” my dad says. “Must’ve been from your sit-ups somehow.”
“I guess.” I’m just glad the room isn’t spinning anymore.
I lean my head back against the exam table. It’s been years since I sat on one of these with my parents in the room. I probably actually fit on here back then, instead of having my legs and arms hanging off the edge.
Wait, shit.
Ellie.
“Where’s my phone?” I ask, patting my pockets. I glare at my parents. “You didn’t bring my phone?”
“It must still be in your bedroom,” my mom says, not understanding the urgency. “You can borrow mine.”
