Page 13 of The Burning
“Your life was way different before. You also didn’t have a husband at war or a pineapple-sized baby in your belly.”
Her eyes lit up a little and the corner of her mouth lifted for a quick second. “Yes. This is true. I’m sorry for ruining everyone’s day.”
She caught my eyes in the mirror again. She had stopped crying, but her shoulders were still shaking.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Austin comforted her. Even though I was still unbelievably pissed at him, I was grateful he was helping Elodie.
“We’ll be there in like ten minutes,” I said.
Austin reached over and tried to touch my hand, something he used to do when our parents would bicker in the car. Usually on the way home from a “fun” family weekend that my mom forced on all of us. She couldn’t stand being in the house much, just like my dad couldn’t stand her. It was like our parents simply couldn’t be around one another for the full two and a half days of a weekend, so by the time we drove home on Sunday from whatever escape my mom had talked my dad into, they would scream at each other in the car. It always started with a “joke” from my dad and ended with a slammed door or my mom sleeping on the swing on the porch. I swore she liked it better out there than inside my dad’s officer-grade house, which she never felt was hers.
Sometimes our parents were the reason Austin and I bonded and clung to one another; at other times, they were why we pushed each other away. This time, when I jerked my hand away from his, Austin was fully the villain. He was just like our dad. And even though I was sure my dad had something to do with his enlisting, neither he nor our mom could be blamed for this. Austin had betrayed me, and I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t even want him in my car.
My brother leaned against the window in the passenger seat and stared ahead. I knew that look. That devastation and longing for forgiveness and approval. But I couldn’t give it to him. He hadn’t popped a tire on my bike, or knocked the head off my doll, like when we were kids. This was a sun-and-moon difference. Night and day. And it felt good to hurt him this way, to not give in and forgive him just because I hated when he was sad.
He’d made a choice, despite the promise we’d made to one another as kids. He would be shipped off to basic training. Then off to Iraq or Afghanistan, or whatever country we were invading at that moment. It was sure to be poison for him, as my experience with the Army had always been, and I wasn’t ready to talk to him about it. No matter how many times I played out the conversation in my head, it wasn’t going to change the reality of what was coming, whether I liked it or not, and I really wasn’t ready to have that fight in this moment.
The three of us drove in silence, each quietly suffering in our own way.
Chapter Eight
We had been waiting almost an hour before the nurse called Elodie’s name.
Austin had stayed with us the whole time, showing Elodie pictures of “ugly babies” on Facebook. He’d made her laugh, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly a saint. Elodie stood and I followed her, past the children with red faces and snotty noses, past the soldiers in ACUs, past all the other people with phones stuck to their palms, including many, many worn-out parents and hyper children. The waiting area was huge and had been depressing us into silence the entire hour.
Before we left the room, Austin called my name from where he sat.
I turned around and gave him a look open for interpretation. It could have meant,Fuck offorI’m busy, please hold. . .
I didn’t really care which one he chose to accept.
Beyond the door, there was a child coughing somewhere, a raspy, wet noise that sounded like something out of a horror movie. We passed three curtain-lined triage exam rooms, impermanent and lacking much dignity. I hated hospitals or anything that made me feel like I didn’t have freedom. My stomach sank as the child kept coughing and began to cry.
When we got to Elodie’s pseudo room, the nurse weighed her and took her blood pressure, then asked me to step out. I looked at Elodie and she nodded.
I needed to call Mali. When I got my phone out, I saw that she had called me three times. She was going to kill me. I also had a voicemail, but since I was going to call her to get chewed out anyway, I didn’t need to listen to it. She was going to be furious. I was already forty minutes late.
Leaning against the only actual wall I could find, I called Mali but didn’t get an answer. I sighed, feeling relieved that I could just talk to her voicemail instead. But right as the shop’s voice message came on, I got the double beeping sound that meant Mali was calling in on the other line. I took a deep breath, switched over, and told her what happened. I explained to her that I could come in within an hour, but Elodie was surely out for the day. She told me we both cost her two new clients, but right as we were hanging up, she told me to tell Elodie she hoped she was okay. I smiled at her gesture.
I thought about slipping out the back door of the hospital instead of having a conversation with Austin in the waiting room. I wasn’t ready to talk to him about why he’d done what he had and why he hadn’t told me. I would eventually need answers, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for them. If I knew Kael’s involvement in getting him to enlist was some sick game to get back at me for whatever my dad did to Kael and his friends, I would feel better. Hopefully. At least it would make sense then. I sort of hated my dad for the things he had done inside our home, so now knowing what he was being held responsible for the things he did outside of it—and how evil he could be—almost made me welcome Kael’s revenge. Almost.
Did I want to know the details? Not really. Would it make me feel better? In reality, probably not. Would I be able to avoid them both forever? Unfortunately, no. But today I could.
As if on cue, my brother burst into the hallway where I was standing. Fortunately, right then the monotone nurse popped out from Elodie’s space and asked that I follow her through the curtain.
“She’s asking for you two.” She gestured to Austin, as well, which was fine because at least I wouldn’t have to talk to him about our drama in front of Elodie.
Sitting on the bed with her shirt pulled up to just below her chest, her belly bare, Elodie looked so young. She had these strap-like things on her stomach with stickers on the end to hold little wires to monitor her baby. She wasn’t crying anymore and seemed calm. Tired, but calm.
I sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed her hand. The deep blue of her veins showed through her paleness, causing her exposed skin to look grayish. As I got a closer look, it made me nauseous how sickly she appeared beneath the fluorescent lights. My stomach turned. I was used to a healthy pink in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes that wasn’t there.
She touched her hand to her stomach.
“The baby is okay. I just need to watch my stress level. The baby is completely okay.” She pointed up at the IV bag hanging next to her bed. “I’m dehydrated, so they’re going to give me these.”
I breathed out, releasing some of my tension in relief.
“Hey, aren’t you the Fischer boy?” asked a nurse, whom I hadn’t noticed had been standing there all along.
