Page 33 of Ghost Ribbon

By the time I pushed open the front door of the house, I was ready to collapse.

The smell of Mom’s cooking hit me instantly. She was in the kitchen setting the table, humming under her breath as she arranged plates. Dad was already at the table, flipping through his phone, and Luca was helping Mom carry a bowl of salad.

“Hey,” I called out, kicking off my shoes. “Something smells amazing. Did I die and go to heaven, or is Mom just showing off again?”

Mom turned with a bright smile, though she looked a little tired. “Flattery will get you extra portions, Marco. Come sit. I made your favorite pasta.”

Dad grinned, setting his phone down. “Careful, son. She’s been in the kitchen all afternoon. If you compliment her too much she’ll make you do the dishes.”

Luca signed quickly with a smirk. Too late. I already volunteered you.

I laughed and ruffled his hair as I passed. “Traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Mom laughed, sitting down between us. “My boys, eat up before it gets cold. Your father has been bragging about his promotion all day. He needs the energy to keep talking.”

Dad puffed out his chest dramatically. “It’s true. Big things happening at work. Maybe we can finally get that new TV Luca keeps signing about.”

Big screen. For movies, Luca signed, eyes lighting up.

The table erupted in laughter. It was one of those perfect, cozy family dinners where everything felt right. Mom passed around seconds, teasing Dad about his “fancy new job title” and how he’d better not start wearing ties around the house. I kept the banter rolling, trading jabs with Luca about who got the last piece of bread. He signed something about me being a bottomless pit, and I countered by stealing a crouton from his salad, earning a dramatic fake-offended glare.

Everything was light. Easy. Until it wasn’t.

I noticed Mom first. She stood up to grab more water, but her steps looked off, unsteady, like the floor was tilting under her. She swayed, one hand reaching for the counter.

“Mom?”

She turned, smiling weakly. “Just dizzy for a sec—”

Then her legs buckled. She crumpled fast, hitting the floor.

“Mom!” I was out of my chair in a heartbeat, rushing over and dropping to my knees beside her. “Dad! Call 911! Luca, get her a pillow, something!”

Dad’s chair scraped back loudly as he fumbled for his phone. Luca moved fast, grabbing a cushion from the couch and sliding it under her head. His hands were shaking as he signed frantically to me. What happened? Mom?

“She’s breathing,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady while my heart hammered. I held her hand, checking her pulse. “Mom, hey, stay with us. Ambulance is coming. You’re okay.”

She murmured something groggy about being fine, but her face was pale. Dad was on the phone, voice urgent as he gave our address.

The next minutes were a blur of paramedics arriving, questions, monitors beeping. They loaded Mom onto a stretcher while Dad rode with her in the ambulance. I grabbed Luca’s jacket and my phone, and we rushed out after them, catching the bus to the hospital.

By the time we burst through the hospital doors, my chest was tight and my eyes burned. I was holding back big, stupid tears the whole way, swallowing hard so Luca wouldn’t see me crack. Mom had always been the strong one, managing her diabetes for years. But we all knew it was a tightrope. One bad day, one missed balance, and things could spiral. Tonight was that spiral, and I felt useless.

Dad was already in the waiting area, pacing. He pulled us both into a quick hug. “They’re stabilizing her. Doctors are running tests.”

I could barely speak. My throat closed up every time I tried.

Finally, a doctor in a white coat emerged from the double doors, scanning the waiting area. “Family of Mrs. Bellini?”

We stood up fast. “That’s us,” I said.

The doctor nodded. “Come with me, please. We’ll talk inside.”

She led us to a small consultation room. Luca sat between me and Dad, his shoulder pressed against mine for support. I was still fighting those tears.

The doctor, Dr. Ramirez, sat down and folded her hands. “Your mother had a severe hypoglycemic episode compounded by her long-term diabetes. Her blood sugar dropped dangerously low, which triggered dizziness, loss of balance, and the fall. We’ve stabilized her for now with intravenous glucose and insulin adjustments, but her diabetes has worsened significantly. The complications are progressing faster than we would like - possible early neuropathy and cardiovascular strain. She’s going to need regular insulin infusions here at the hospital initially, followed by a stricter management plan at home: continuous glucose monitoring, weekly check-ins, and possibly pump therapy or more frequent infusions if her levels don’t stabilize.”

I swallowed hard, processing. “Infusions… like, ongoing? How long are we talking? Is this because of tonight or has it been building?”