An Unexpected Turn Read online

  It doesn’t sit right with me that there is this huge chunk of his life he didn’t share with me before he was forced to share it. I’ve shared everything with Dylan because I felt like I could trust him. Things that I’ve only ever told Jules. It hurts that he didn’t feel the same level of trust in me. It feels like I’ve been lied to this whole time. Throw his behavior tonight into that mix, and I’m going to need some time to be away from all this, from him, to sort through the tangled knot of emotions sitting in my chest.

  Maybe this was why I had that feeling on the drive over. After the way this evening started, there was no way it could end the way I’d planned or hoped. I just didn’t realize how off course my night could go.

  Chapter 3

  B-Rad dozes with his head on my lap for a while after everyone leaves. I start to text Jules to let her know what’s going on, but there’s no easy way to condense all the details of this bizarre night, and she’ll want all the details, so I try to keep it brief.

  Me: Time to hang tomorrow? Gonna need a LONG chat

  Jules: That was fast

  Jules: What blew up?

  Me: Way too much to go into via text

  Me: Not sure what happens next

  Me: Still out, so will call or text when I’m finally home

  Me: But don’t know when.

  Jules: Can’t wait to hear you dish this latest drama.

  Drama indeed. Hopefully, she will be able to help me sort out my emotions, give me some insight I must be missing.

  I feel horrible about what Dylan has gone through, losing his mom and being responsible for three younger siblings. It isn’t even the fact that Dylan got high that bothers me. I don’t care what people do to get through their day, unless it hurts others in the process. That’s where I draw the line. I do think it was rude to do when we had plans. He doesn’t know how I feel about that kind of thing, as it never came up, and that just ups the rude factor, but even that isn’t my biggest problem. It’s the fact that he did it when he knew he had to take Riff to practice and was responsible for the other two as well, that he was willing to put them at risk. I never would have imagined him making that kind of choice

  Seeing how he was with the kids tonight doesn’t mesh with what I know of him. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m angry. I’m frustrated and confused as well, but the anger is creeping in.

  I’m also frustrated with myself for not seeing any signs of this. There would have been signs, right? I had been convinced Dylan was different, was a genuinely good guy, but tonight proves I don’t know him well at all.

  Maybe I should just call it quits, stop dating altogether. It’s supposed to be about having fun and getting to know someone, not this chore I have to get through. Every time I go out or meet someone new, I only end up disappointed. Sometimes the effort is exhausting, and I’m left questioning if it’s worth it.

  I don’t want to be the type of person that runs at the first speed bump, but this is a whole lot bigger than a simple speed bump.

  I’ve wondered in the past if my expectations are just too high, but all I have to do is look at Jules and Russ and know they aren’t. It isn’t unrealistic to want that kind of connection with another person. Do I think I can have that with Dylan? Do I even know him well enough to decide? Is what I saw tonight something I can get past? Do I want to?

  The little body curled up next to me starts squirming again, pulling me from my thoughts. I check my phone and see that Dylan has been gone for nearly an hour already. He should’ve been back by now. He knows B-Rad is sick. Nothing should be keeping him gone this long. He may not have been in the best state to drive so, I can’t decide if I’m more concerned or irritated.

  My leg and side are feeling warm with B-Rad curled against me. Touching his forehead again, he seems warmer than the last time. Before I can check his temp again, he cries out, leans over the edge of the couch and barely hits the can this time.

  He is crying more than ever. His refrain of “It hurts so bad! Make it stop!” then “I want Dylan!” over and over again is breaking my heart. I check his temp again while swallowing back my body’s own desire to follow his lead and notice it’s up a couple of degrees.

  I’m worried that this isn’t just because of too much candy or even a stomach bug. The way he is acting is eerily similar to what Jules went through just before she had to have her appendix removed back in high school. This is well beyond my paygrade, no matter what is going on with him. Something needs to change, and fast.

  After switching out the bag in the can, I pick up the phone to call Dylan. It rings and rings before voicemail finally picks up. I hang up and call again. Same thing. Well, shit. Now what?

  I wet a few paper towels in the kitchen and bring them back to wipe down B-Rad’s face. I leave a couple of clean ones across his forehead, then pace around the small room, watching my phone for a response. Thinking maybe a text would get through better than a call, I try that.

  Me: Call me! B-Rad is worse!

  When B-Rad goes for the can again, and another ten minutes passes with still no response from Dylan, I’m done. I clean him up again and run another wet paper towel over his face to cool him down and hopefully make him feel less icky.

  I refuse to be responsible for something truly awful happening to him on my watch, so I’m not taking any chances. “Come on, sweetie. I think we need to get you to a doctor. Think you can help me get you to the car?”

  Between sniffles and little hiccups, he mumbles, “I don’t… *sniffle*… like doctors. Ca… can’t we just st… *sniffle*… stay here? I promise I won’t puke again.” He has tears running down his pale, pudgy cheeks and is starting to get the shakes.

  I sit down with him and hold his hand. “Sorry, sweetie. I think you need to have the doctor check out your tummy. They will make it feel better soon. Okay?”

  He just nods, obviously feeling too crummy to put up a fight.

  “Come on. I’ll call Dylan and let him know where to meet us.” I grab his hand, the roll of paper towels, yet another fresh bag and the trash can, ready to head out to the car.

  “Don’t forget Dean. I’m sure he wants to keep you company. Just be careful if you feel sick again to keep him out of the way. I don’t think he wants a bath tonight.”

  B-Rad grabs the bear and squeezes him tight against his stomach. He’s all hunched over as he shuffles out the door with me. I call Dylan again as we are leaving. This time, it doesn’t even ring, just goes to voicemail, so I leave a message.

  “I’m taking B-Rad to the hospital. He’s thrown up several times and his temp has gone way up since you left. I’m worried it’s his appendix and don’t think it’s worth risking the wait for you to get back here. You need to call me or meet me at St. Mary’s. We should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  I get B-Rad buckled into the back, placing the trash can in his lap while still talking. Hopefully, we can make it to the hospital without incident. Not looking forward to having to sanitize the back of my car tomorrow if we don’t.

  “Dylan, I think this is serious.”

  I finish up in the back and walk around to the front of the car. “You need to get to the hospital.” I hang up as I climb behind the wheel. Pulling onto the road, I can’t help but hope like hell he picks up his messages. And soon. I’m also hoping that I’m doing the right thing for B-Rad. I’m worried for him, and he seems genuinely afraid. I desperately need Dylan to be there.

  I’m not used to making the tough decisions. If it’s just me with Rusty or Jorie and something comes up, I know Jules is always just a phone call away, that she will be there to step in or tell me what I need to do. She can’t help me this time because she can’t make the decisions for a kid that she doesn’t even know. Not that I can or should either.

  Dammit, Dylan! Where are you? You better get your ass to the hospital.

 
; Chapter 4

  Parking for the emergency room is thankfully open, and I don’t have to hunt for a spot. B-Rad, even feeling as horrible as he does, has great aim and manages to keep the vomit off himself, Dean and my car. I didn’t realize I could be this worried, stressed and grateful all at the same time. I can’t convince him to walk, so I just pick him up, grab the bear and carry him inside, which isn’t easy because he isn’t light.

  There is no waiting at the check-in desk, so I’m able to walk right up. I explain to the woman manning the station about B-Rad’s stomach pain, vomiting, and fever.

  She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose while looking at her computer with her head tilted back, so she can see through the lower half. Her black hair is curly, graying and slicked back in a tight bun. “Alright, honey. I just need to get some information, and we’ll be able to get him right back to see a doctor. What’s this little guy’s name?”

  “Legal name? Boo Radley Jackson.”

  The woman side-eyes me while typing as though she is waiting for me to say, “Just kidding!”

  “Birthday?”

  I shift him in my arms to get his attention. “Um… B-Rad? What’s your birthday, sweetie?”

  She stops looking at her computer and turns her head to look over at me, one eyebrow hiking up towards her hair line. “You don’t know your own kid’s birthday? Lady, what kinda mother are you?” The look on her face is pure disdain. I don’t blame her for the assumption, but she’s wasting time.

  I glance at her name tag. “Rae. I’m sorry, but I’m not his mother. I was just watching him when he got sick. His brother is supposed to be here by now.” I give a last glance around the waiting area, looking for Dylan’s dark head. “Once he gets here, he can give you whatever you need. Until then, can you get the necessary stuff down, so he can be seen?”

  She looks a little like she doesn’t believe me. “Fine. What’s your birthday then, hon?”

  A muffled “11” comes from my shoulder where B-Rad has his face buried.

  “Eleven what, sweetie? They need the month and the year, the whole thing. Do you know the whole thing?” I’m trying to hold him and rub his back at the same time.

  He turns his head on my shoulder to look at Rae. “It’s all 11s. I’ve got a special lucky birthday since all the numbers are the same. Eleven, eleven, eleven.”

  Rae gives him a smile. “You sure are right you’ve got a special birthday because that’s an easy one to remember. What a lucky boy you are.” She goes back to entering the information. “I’m going to guess you don’t have his social either. What about an address, do you have that?” She glances at me again, waiting for an answer.

  I manage to pull my phone out of my pocket without dropping B-Rad. When Dylan sent me his address earlier in the week, I thought I’d need it to know where I was going for our date tonight, not for an ER visit. Apparently, it’s enough information that she’s able to find B-Rad in their system, but what they have is outdated. She asks me if I know of any updates that need to be made to the medical history and financial information, but I don’t have any answers for her.

  As we are finishing up, a nurse comes out with a wheelchair. “Is this Boo Radley?”

  “He goes by B-Rad, but yeah.” Still holding him, I turn in her direction.

  She gives him a big smile. “Okay, B-Rad. Let’s get you back to see the doctor.”

  I set him down in the wheelchair and hand him Dean.

  I turn back to the check-in desk to ask, “Rae? Will you send his brother back when he shows, please?”

  She looks to B-Rad, then back at me with a look of sympathy. “Sure thing, hon. Just as soon as I’m done with him.”

  “Thanks.” I leave Dylan’s name with her, so she knows who to look for.

  I turn to follow the nurse and B-Rad back through the huge double doors into the emergency room.

  “Teri! You’re coming with me, right?” The fear in B-Rad’s little voice as he leans over the side of the chair to look for me rips my heart in two.

  I can only imagine what either of Jules’ kids would be feeling right now if neither of their parents were with them under the same circumstances. My stomach flips to imagine it. Especially if the only person they had to cling to was a stranger. What a mess this is.

  Rushing to catch up and get beside them, I take his hand. “Sure thing, sweetie. I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  The nurse gets us set up in a room, takes care of getting all the vitals and records them on a chart. B-Rad is doing his best to cooperate, but he makes that job a bit harder because he’s crying and not wanting to uncurl. I keep out of the nurse’s way as much as possible, but the only time B-Rad has let go of my hand since I took it on the way in was when the nurse got him into the bed. He snatched it right back as soon as he was settled.

  Trying to distract him a little after the nurse leaves, I ask about Dean, and school, his friends, whatever I can think of, but he just isn’t up for talking. He only gives me a word or two before even that’s too much. I pull up one of Jorie’s favorite books on my phone, then sit in the chair by the bed and just start reading to him.

  I haven’t been reading long before a doctor comes in. He’s maybe in his forties or fifties with that attractive-on-any-man-that-ages-well salt and pepper thing going on, making it hard to pinpoint his actual age. At around six feet, he towers over me.

  He walks over to the bed looking at B-Rad’s chart. “Hello there. You must be B-Rad? I’m Dr. Morrisey. I’m going to check you over. See if I can figure out what’s making you feel so bad. Is that okay with you?” He is smiling and friendly as he talks.

  B-Rad gives him a little nod.

  The doctor glances at me. “So, mom, can you tell me about what’s been going on?” Pulling out his stethoscope, he shows it to B-Rad and explains how it works and what he needs to do.

  “Sorry, I thought they might have noted it in his chart, but I’m not his mom. I was just watching him. He was sick when I got there, but then he started to get worse. The way he was acting, clutching his stomach, throwing up and then when the fever started climbing, it reminded me of what my friend went through in high school. I tried getting ahold of his brother to find out what he wanted me to do but haven’t gotten an answer to any calls or texts. I had to make a judgement call and wasn’t willing to put B-Rad at risk, so I brought him in.” I’m worried that Dylan not being here will be a problem, and they won’t be able to treat B-Rad.

  I take a quick peek at my phone. There is still nothing from Dylan.

  He glances over at me and then continues to check B-Rad over. “Okay, that might make this interesting. Do you know when this started?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve only been around him for about two hours. When I showed up, he’d been eating some candy and not long after, maybe 5? 10 minutes? He started complaining about his stomach hurting, clutching at his waist and bending over his arms. About thirty minutes after that, he started vomiting. He had a low-grade fever when I first checked, but it started going up not too long after that. I have no idea if he had one before I got there.”

  “What about how he was feeling yesterday?” he asks.

  “I couldn’t say. We only met for the first time about two hours ago.”

  It was hard to read the look that crossed the doc’s face before it disappeared back into the bland professionalism of before. That probably isn’t good.

  “Hmm… B-Rad, think you can help me out? Were you feeling like this yesterday? What did you eat or drink?”

  B-Rad’s got my hand tucked under his head with a death grip on it, and I think I’m beginning to lose feeling in my fingertips, but I don’t dare try to get him to let up. I can tell he doesn’t like what’s going on, no matter how nice Dr. Morrisey is. It doesn’t stop him from answering, though. Such a brave little kid.

  �
�My tummy didn’t hurt yesterday. I wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to eat even when Dylan made my favorite mac ’n’ cheese for dinner last night. I had like two bites, but I didn’t finish it. That’s why I had the candy today. Dylan wanted me to eat, but nothin’ sounded good, and I wasn’t hungry. I saw the candy and wanted some, so Dylan let me. I think I ate too much.”

  “Okay, I’m going to need to look at you and feel your stomach. Can you roll onto your back for a minute?” Dr. Morrisey stands up and goes over to the sink to wash up and grab some gloves.

  The tears start again as B-Rad tries to get to his back. I stand up and help him get adjusted while running my free hand through his hair.

  “It’s going to be okay, B. He just needs to feel around a bit. You can tell a lot just by touching something. When he feels your stomach, it will help him to know more about why you hurt so much.”

  “I like that.” He stares at me with this funny look on his face.

  “Like what, sweetie?”

  “You called me B and sweetie. Not B-Rad or Boo Radley. No one ever calls me anything else, except maybe the bully at school, but his names don’t make me feel good.”

  Damn this kid. He’s kinda awesome. I’d be a terrified mess in his shoes, and I’m an adult. He’s just a kid.

  “Yeah? Good. I like cool nicknames, too.” I can’t resist placing a little kiss on his hot little head.

  “Ready?” Dr. Morrisey motions to B’s shirt, and I lift it out of the way. The doc is trying to be gentle as he is pressing around, and B is trying so hard not to squirm and cry, but it obviously hurts. The doc hits a spot that gets B crying out. I want to smack the doctor’s hands away to stop him from causing B more pain even though I know he has to examine him. Another minute is almost one minute too long to hold that urge in check, then he is finally done.

  “I need to run a few tests before I know more. Until then, I think a little pain medication is in order. I’ll have a nurse bring that when they come to get him changed into a gown. There will be a few forms that will need to be filled out for the tests, and we can go from there.” Dr. Morrisey pats B on the head. “You are doing great, kiddo. I’ll be back to see you in a little while.” He walks out of the room after writing a few more notes on the chart.