SOMETHING IS WRONG.
But this time it’s different.
I knew it was coming. I just didn’t know it’d be this soon.
++++
Sitting outside of school, my athletic clothes sticking to my body with sweat, I stare at my phone confused by the message on my screen.
A sense of deja-vu washes over me as I read my mom’s text out loud.
“Gram and Pop are picking you up today.” That’s it.
I wait for more bubbles to appear, but nothing follows.
Weird.
No, “Hey how was your day?” or “Gram and Pop are coming in for…”
I look up from my phone and watch as other kids climb into their parents cars, and my eyes land on Gram’s Stone Gray Ford F-150.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder, almost toppling over at the sheer weight of it.
“See you guys later,” I say to my friends before walking to the car.
As soon as I open the door, the tension is so thick I nearly fall out.
“Hey. I didn’t know that you guys were coming to town today.” I say, climbing into the car as Pop — my dads dad — drives off.
A few uncomfortable seconds pass by as I run my hands up and down my legs, trying to soothe the nerves.
“Emmi,” Gram starts — and I freeze. “Where’s Grace?” I blurt out before she can finish.
Stunned silence replaces the car as we stop at the intersection.
The sound of the turn signal is the only thing that tells me time hasn’t stopped.
“It happened again. Grace is in the hospital.”
It happened again.
It happened again.
It happened again.
++++
Back where we ended.
Grace, walking through the door, Mom and Dad behind her, and Gram and Pop next to me.
Everyone watches Grace as if she’d disappear if we blinked.
She looks better than last time.
“We are going to get her settled then I’ll explain what’s going to happen,” Mom says, leading Grace down the hallway.
Grams shuddering breath tears my attention away from the retreating forms in the hallway to her glistening eyes.
I numbly walk past them and sit at the table.
Waiting.
Five minutes pass.
Still waiting.
My leg bounces with nerves beneath the table as Mom walks in.
Dad, Gram and Pop all close behind.
Sitting next to me is my mother.
I forget how much I look like her.
She places a hand on my thigh, addressing the entire table.
“These next couple of months will be difficult, there will be lots of Cardiologist appointments,” she starts.
I hate when people draw out their point.
I wait as she finds the right words.
“She’s going to have a surgery this upcoming August.”
I look up at her and she nods.
I shake my head.
“Why?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Because, it is a medically necessary procedure that will help your sister,” Dad says and I look between him and Mom.
A few beats of silence go by as the news sink in, leveling out the minefield of thoughts in my head.
I’m scared.
I’m scared.
What if I lose her because of a procedure?
August is only four months away.
++++
The day of the procedure came too quick.
I all but run out of the building, frantically searching for Gram’s car.
I get to see her.
She’s okay.
The drive to the hospital is silent.
The walk to her room even more so.
I stand behind Gram and Pop as if they are a barricade to the inevitable image of my sister in the hospital bed.
The door opens and it smells of hand sanitizer and Chinese take-out as we walk in.
Grace — asleep in the bed — looks pale, and worn out.
“How is she?” Pop asks and I block the adults out as I walk to her side.
An empty chair sits to the right of her bed, and I make my way toward it.
But not before Gram pushes past me to sit there herself.
Clutching Grace’s hand and whispering words meant only for her.
I can’t help the burn of tears as I stare at my intertwined fingers.
Biting the inside of my cheek to stop any noise from coming out.
Wordlessly, my mother sets a chair down in front of me, on the left side of the bed.
She moves the IV bag so I can be as close as possible.
I don’t look at her as I sit, I only look at Grace.
I watch as her chest moves.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
The same slow, constant rhythm.
Then, a low sound breaks the rhythm. I look up and she’s gagging.
Oh God.
The whole room moves.
“Get her on her side!” My mother yells. I watch as Gram struggles to lift her and run to her side.
Grace’s eyes open wide as she continues to dry heave and I feel my body begin to sweat.
Please stop.
Please. You’re scaring me.
I wish I could tell her that, but I move Gram out of the way and help Mom get her on her side. Flashes of blue bust through the door and we all back away.
My mother begins speaking in another language as the nurses surround Grace, telling them exactly what happened and what medicine she needs.
I sit down on the couch and press my hand to my chest.
My heart beating faster than it ever has.
Dad looks down at me and I’m afraid to make eye contact.
I’m going to cry.
“She’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”
I muster the courage to look at him.
“You better be right.”
