While My Sister Sleeps

‘How is she?’

Molly scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

He made a defeated sound. ‘I knew it was bad. She was clammy and cold. It was terrifying. As soon as the paramedics took over, I left.’ He seemed tormented. ‘I just freaked out. Her name was right there on her shoe tag, and after I read it, I recognized her face. She’s every runner’s idol, and there I was, trying to get her to breathe. It didn’t help, did it.’

Molly hesitated, then shook her head.

‘Brain dead?’ he whispered.

She lifted a shoulder–couldn’t quite deny it to this man, who clearly connected the dots.

He seemed to deflate. ‘I keep thinking that if I’d been doing a faster pace, I’d’ve gotten there sooner.’

Molly hugged herself. ‘If you’d been on a different road, you’d never have found her at all.’

‘I should have stayed, maybe gone in the ambulance; but she didn’t know me, so it wasn’t like I was a friend going with a friend.’

‘I’m her sister,’ Molly blurted out, ‘and I was supposed to have been tracking that run, only I had other things to do. Know how guilty I feel?’

He didn’t blink. ‘Yes. I do. The minute the ambulance crew took over, I turned around and ran home so I could shower and go back to school and try to convince parents that I’m a good, caring person who’s well qualified to teach their kids. As if I could really focus on work.’

Oh boy, did Molly agree. Sitting in her office had been a joke. She couldn’t work while her sister was on life support.

Nick was working, though, and she did need to reach him. Gesturing toward Robin’s room, she said, ‘I have to make a call.’ She set off, stopped, turned back. She was really glad he returned. ‘Thank you.’

‘I didn’t do enough.’

‘She wasn’t breathing. You did what you could. She’s alive now because of you.’ When he still looked haunted, she smiled. ‘Forget what my mom said. She needs to blame someone for this. One day, she’ll thank you herself.’

She continued on this time, past Robin’s room to a spot by a window where her cell phone had four bars. ‘It’s me,’ she said when Nick picked up.

There were several seconds of newsroom buzz, then a passionate, ‘Geez, Molly, I’ve been trying you all day. Why’d you take so long returning my call?’

‘It’s been a little hectic, Nick.’

‘How is she?’

‘She’s holding on.’

‘What does that mean? Is she awake? Talking? Moving around? Is she breathing on her own? Has she been stabilized?’

Molly could feel those prodding blue eyes. She wasn’t sure she liked being on this side of the notepad. ‘They’ll run more tests later.’

‘Was it a heart attack?’

‘They’re trying to figure out exactly what’s going on.’

‘But the initial problem–definitely the heart? Has she had heart trouble before? Is it a structural problem, like a valve or a hole? Can they fix it?’

Molly was growing uneasy. ‘Is this for an article?’

‘Molly,’ he protested, sounding hurt. ‘It’s for me. I used to date Robin. Plus, her sister is my friend.’

Molly was duly chastised. ‘I’m sorry. You just sound so reporter-like.’ And there was the issue of Andrea Welker and a bad drug test, something Robin had told him in confidence that had shown up in the paper. Nick swore he had gotten the information from a separate source, but neither Robin nor Kathryn fully bought that. Don’t believe what he says, Robin had told Molly once too often, and lest she forget, Kathryn repeated the warning often. But Molly liked Nick. He was interesting, and he was going places. That he liked Molly enough to want to be her friend even after her sister had shafted him was flattering.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ he said now, conciliatory. ‘If you’d called me last night, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. When you didn’t return my call this morning, I started calling other people. It’s an occupational hazard.’

‘That’s what frightens me. Nick, I need your help. Can you keep this out of the paper?’

There was a short pause, then a surprised, ‘How can I do that? It’s news.’

‘You have clout there. You can get them to hold off. The more people hear, the more they call us, and we just can’t talk until we know more.’

‘What do you know now?’

Molly had been hoping for a promise. Disappointed, she didn’t reply.

‘Are we friends?’ he asked quietly. ‘Friends trust one another.’

Friends also call more than one measly time before calling other people, Molly thought. Of course, she was hypersensitive.

But she wasn’t stupid. ‘The point is my family needs privacy,’ she explained. ‘And honestly, there isn’t much to tell. Robin did have a heart event, but all her vital signs are good.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie.

‘Is a heart "event" the same as a heart "attack"?’

‘They’re just words to me right now. I’m pretty shaken. We all are. I’ve told you as much as we know for sure.’ Not exactly a lie, either.

‘Okay. That’s okay. Will you call me when you learn anything more?’

She said she would, but ended the call feeling uncomfortable. It was a minute before she put her finger on it. For all his questions, he hadn’t asked how she was doing with all this. Friends who claimed they were good buddies did that.

Telling herself that it was a simple oversight–that he knew she was upset, so had no need to ask–she closed her phone and went back up the hall. She was nearly at Robin’s door when her father emerged. He was taking his own phone from his pocket. ‘Your mom agreed to the EEG. Want to stay with her while I give Chris a call?’

The EEG wasn’t done until early evening to accommodate the neurologist, who wanted to be present to interpret the results. The machine was brought into Robin’s room. Since quiet was required for the truest reading, Kathryn was the only family member allowed to stay.

She was grateful that the nurses sensed her need to be there, but if she had been hoping to bring Robin luck, it didn’t work. She cheered silently. She repeated every motivational thought that had goaded Robin on in the past. She counted on her brain waves connecting to Robin’s.

But the news wasn’t good. After an hour of the machine’s pen scratching on paper, Kathryn could see it herself–one flat line after the next over twelve different readings.

What could the neurologist say? Crying quietly, Kathryn couldn’t think to ask new questions, and after he left, the nurse lingered, focusing not on Robin but on her, which almost felt worse. Did she want to talk with social services? No. Perhaps a minister? No.

I want that second test, Kathryn finally managed to say. The nurse nodded and replied, It’s a process, which didn’t help at all. Kathryn didn’t want a process. She wanted her daughter.

For the longest time after the nurse left, Kathryn stood holding Robin’s hand, studying her face, trying to square what the test said with the daughter who had done cartwheels at the age of three. Charlie was behind her, with Chris and Erin nearby. Molly was back by the wall. No one spoke, and that didn’t help either. It wasn’t fair, none of it–not their silence, not her pain, not Robin’s fate.

Furious, she turned on her family. ‘You all wanted this done. Are we able to help Robin more now?’

Charlie looked crushed. Chris clutched Erin’s hand. Molly was in tears.