I’m not sure what to say, so I tell Cassidy she looks pretty. Her white top is very low-cut for a lunch date, but who am I to judge? I let Connor paint me half-naked.
I walk farther into the small home and sit down beside Brooklyn. She’s putting shoes on a doll, her previous activity forgotten. She struggles to get one of the shoes on, so I hold the doll in place for her as she works the shoe over the ridiculous and unrealistic arch of the doll’s foot.
“Jeremiah’s here!” Cassidy sings, pulling back her curtain. “I know I should make him come to the door, but”—she nods at Brooklyn—“I’m not ready to have that conversation with her.”
“Have fun,” I say as Cassidy grabs her purse and swings it over her shoulder. “See you soon.”
She bends down to kiss Brooklyn’s head. “Be safe and listen to Brynn.” Cassidy sails out the front door just as Jeremiah is on her first porch step. His lips stretch into a smile when he sees Cassidy. The door swings shuts behind her. I’m curious about Jeremiah, almost curious enough to watch out the front window, Walt-style, but I stay planted beside Brooklyn.
When she’s done playing with the doll, I have her show me where her things belong. Together we clean up the room, and then I make her a snack. Once she’s finished with that, we go out back and I push Brooklyn on her swing set. She wants to go high and I tell her it’s not going to happen, to which she replies that her mommy lets her do it. If Cassidy wants to send Brooklyn to the moon, that’s her prerogative. I prefer a nice, safe medium-height arc.
Declaring she’s going to pick a flower for her mom, Brooklyn slows to a stop and hops off the swing, walking determinedly to the vine growing along the wall. Big purple blooms compete for space down the entire length of the fence we share. Brooklyn walks back and forth, considering, before she reaches in and pulls one off.
“This one is—” Brooklyn’s eyes widen, her mouth falls open. If I weren’t standing in front of her, I wouldn’t think such a scream could come from this small a person.
“Brooklyn, what is it?”
She grabs her throat and starts touching it. Her breath sounds shallow like she’s pulling air through a mesh screen.
I scoop her into my arms and hurry into the house. I fly through the kitchen, grabbing Cassidy’s car keys off a wall hook in the kitchen as I go. Going through the front door and getting into the car is a blur. All I know is that Brooklyn is buckled and she’s still wheezing and crying and none of it sounds good or right. I don’t know squat about first-aid, andwhy did Cassidy ask me to babysit? How could she leave Brooklyn with me? I’m the least qualified person in the world to watch a kid. I might not have reacted appropriately if she choked. I don’t even know if I’m reacting appropriately now. Maybe I should have called 9-1-1.
Do I have my purse? Do I even have my driver’s license?
I’m driving.
I grip the steering wheel and try to forget about that. I knew it would have to happen eventually, but not like this. Not in a possible emergency, not when I don’t have time to give in to my fear and let the road take away my ability.
I pull up to the emergency room doors and hurry from my seat. Carefully I extract Brooklyn from her car seat and thank God for even the small breath she’s struggling to intake.
With Brooklyn in my arms, I run past the glass door that slides open for me, skidding to a stop at the front desk.
“I need help,” I shout. The woman sitting behind the desk watches me with eyes the size of dinner plates. “She was picking a flower, then she screamed and now she’s not breathing right. I need help. She needs help. Get a doctor. Right now!”
She picks up a phone and presses a button. She stares at me while she waits for someone to answer.
“Right now right now right now,” I demand, fear seizing me. My ability to stay calm went out the window the second Brooklyn began to scream.
I will save this one.
23
Connor
I just wantmy trusty sandwich. That’s it. The streets around the diner are a nightmare. People setting up seats along the parade route, children darting back and forth. I had to park four blocks away and walk here.
“Mary,” I say, grateful for the woman behind the counter. She takes one look at me and clucks her tongue. “What?” I ask, swinging my leg over a stool and settling down with a thunk.
“You don’t look so good.” She sets an iced tea in front of me and leans one forearm on the counter. “Did you break that girl’s heart?”
I roll my eyes. “No. Why would you think that? Maybe she broke my heart.”
“She might have, but the way you two were together, there’s no way her heart isn’t as broken as yours.”
I grunt. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want to eat a sandwich, watch the parade from my spot at the diner counter, and get ready for the opening tonight.
“Is this a Monte Cristo kind of day?” Mary asks.
I nod and sip my tea while she goes back to the window, hands someone my ticket, and hollers my name for my extra fries.
