Page 95 of Don't Go
"Mama."
I turned my head.
Bonnie's voice wasn't the voice she used to saymama. It was thin. The thinner-than-usual was the part that put me on my feet.
"Bonnie."
She brought her right hand to her chest. "Mama, I think — I don't feel — "
I was on the floor in front of the couch in two seconds. Bonnie’s face was pale. Her lips were going blue. Her chest was rising and falling fast, very fast, faster than the medication was supposed to let it rise.
Pickles came off her fast. He landed on the rug and stood there with his fur up. He made a sound I hadn't heard him make before — high and thin.
"Mama, it hurts. It really hurts."
I had my phone out, and I dialed.
Beau was on the floor with me. He had been beside me on the couch, and he was on the floor with me now, his arm under Bonnie's shoulders, lifting her — gentle, like she might break — off the couch.
He laid her flat on the rug and put a pillow under her head.
He moved Walter out of the way and put Walter, deliberately, in the curve of her arm.
The dispatcher answered.
I gave her the address and the apartment number. I gave her my daughter's name, her diagnosis, and the cardiologist's name.
Bonnie's eyes rolled back.
Her body jerked once — short, sharp — and then jerked again, and then it became a rhythm, her arms and her legs going against the rug in a pattern. Her head went sideways. Her teeth came together. The jerking went on.
I screamed.
I didn’t know I'd screamed until Beau had a hand on my elbow.
He was beside me. His other hand was on Bonnie's shoulder, holding her steady against the rug — not stopping the seizing, you don't stop the seizing, you let the body do the seizing, and you keep the head from hitting the floor — and Beau was doing the keeping the head from hitting the floor. He had her on her side, in the position she should have been in, and his hand was on the back of her head.
He looked at me.
"Sabrina, look at me. She is going to be okay. Look at me."
I looked at him.
But I couldn't breathe, I was screaming, and Beau was holding my daughter on the rug. His eyes were on mine, trying to calm me down.
“She is going to be okay.”
The seizing stopped.
It had been ten seconds. Ten seconds that had been six lifetimes long.
There was a knock at the door.
Mrs. Park was already coming in. She had her cardigan on and her keys in her hand. She heard the scream. She crouched at Bonnie’s other side. She didn’t panic. She put her hand on Bonnie’s forehead.
“Hey, baby girl. Hi. Hi, baby. We are going to take care of you.”
Beau looked at me. “Sabrina. Sabrina, breathe.”
