Bloodstream

“I’m in detention. I can’t leave until three-thirty.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t wa

“I’m going to find out anyway, honey”

“Not now, Mom.” She heard him sniffle, heard the tears break through his voice.

“Please. Please, can you just come and get me?”

The phone went dead. Haunted by the image of her son, crying and in trouble, Claire quickly dialed the school back. But by the time she reached the secretary, Noah had already left the office, and Miss Cornwallis was not available to speak to her.

Claire had an hour to finish with Mairead Temple, see two new patients, and drive to the school.

Feeling pressured now, and distracted by Noah’s crisis, she stepped back into the exam room and was dismayed to see that Mairead already had put her clothes back on.

“I’m not quite finished examining you,” said Claire.

“Yeah, y’are,” grunted Mairead.

“But Mrs. Temple-”

“Came for penicillin. Didn’t come to get no Q-Tip shoved down my throat.”

“Please, won’t you just sit down? I know I do things a little differently from Dr. Pomeroy, but there’s a reason for it. Antibiotics don’t stop a virus, and they can cause side effects.”

“Never caused me no side effects.”

“It only takes a day to get back the culture results. If it’s strep, I’ll give you the medicine then.”

“Gotta walk all the way into town. Takes up half my day.”

Suddenly Claire understood what the real issue was. Every lab test, every new prescription, meant a mile-long walk into town for Mairead, and then another mile walk home.

With a sigh, she pulled out a prescription pad. And for the first time that visit, she saw Mairead’s smile. Satisfied. Triumphant.

Isabel sat quietly on the couch, afraid to move, afraid to say a word.

Mary Rose was very, very mad. Their mother was not home yet, so Isabel was all alone with her sister. She had never seen Mary Rose behave this way, pacing back and forth like a tiger in the zoo, screaming at her. At her, Isabel! Mary Rose was so angry, it turned her face wrinkled and ugly, not like Princess Aurora anymore, but more like an evil queen. This was not her sister. This was a bad person inside her sister's body.

Isabel huddled deeper into the cushions, watching furtively as the bad person in Mary Rose’s body stalked through the living room, muttering. Never get to go anywhere or do anything because of you! Stuck at home all the time. A baby-sitter slave! I wish you were dead. I wish you were dead.

But I’m your sister! Isabel wanted to wail, though she didn’t dare make a peep.

She began to cry, silent tears plopping onto the cushions, making big wet stains. Oh no. Mary Rose would be mad about that, too.

Isabel waited until her sister’s back was turned, then she quietly slipped off the couch and darted into the kitchen. She would hide in here, out of Mary Rose’s way, until their mother came home. She ducked around the corner of a kitchen cabinet and sat down on the cold tiles, hugging her knees to her chest.

If she just stayed quiet, Mary Rose wouldn’t find her. She could see the clock on the wall, and she knew that when the little hand was on the five, their mother would come home. She needed to pee, now, but she would just have to wait because she was safe here.

Then Rocky the parakeet began to screech. His cage was a few feet away, by the window. She looked up at him, silently imploring him to be quiet, but Rocky was not very smart and he kept screeching at her.

Their mother had said it many times: “Rocky is just a birdbrain,” and he was proving it now by all the noise he made.

Be quiet! Oh please be quiet or she'll find me!

Too late. Footsteps creaked into the kitchen. A drawer was yanked open and silverware clanged to the floor. Mary Rose was flinging around forks and spoons.

Isabel wrapped herself into a ball and squeezed more tightly against the cabinet.

Rocky the traitor stared at her as he squawked, as though to shout out: “There she is! There she is!”

Now Mary Rose paced into view, but she wasn’t looking at Isabel. She was staring at Rocky. She went to the cage and stood looking at the parakeet, who continued to screech. She opened the door and thrust in her hand. Rocky’s wings flapped in panicked whooshes of flying feathers and birdseed. She captured the struggling bird, a squirming puff of powder blue, and took him out of the cage. With one quick twist, she snapped the bird’s neck.

Rocky went limp.

She flung the body against the wall. It plopped to the floor in a sad little heap of feathers.

A silent scream boiled up in Isabel’s throat. She choked it back and buried her face against her knees, waiting in terror for her sister to break her neck as well.

But Mary Rose walked right out of the kitchen. Right out of the house.

3

Noah was sitting on the front steps of the high school when Claire arrived at four o’clock. She had rushed through her last two appointments, and had driven straight to the school five miles away, but she was a half hour late, and she could see he was angry about it. He didn’t say a word, just climbed into the truck, and slammed the door shut.

“Seat belt, honey;’ she said.

He yanked on the shoulder strap and rammed the buckle in. They drove for a moment in silence.

“I’ve been sitting around forever. What took you so long?” he said.

“I had patients to see, Noah. Why were you in detention?”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Whose fault was it, then?”

“Taylor. He’s turning into such a jerk. I don’t know what’s wrong With him.”

Sighing, he slumped into his seat. “And I used to think we Were friends. Now it’s like he hates me.”

She glanced at him. “Is this Taylor Darnell you’re talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“It was an accident. My skateboard ran into him. Next thing I know, he’s shoving me around. So I shoved him back, and he fell.”

“Why didn’t you call a teacher?”

“There weren’t any around. Then Miss Cornwallis comes out and suddenly Taylor starts yelling that it’s my fault.” He turned away from her, but not before she’d glimpsed the embarrassed swipe of his hand across his eyes. He tries so hard to be grown up, she thought with a twinge of pity; but he’s really still a child.

“She took my skateboard, Mom,” he said softly. “Can you get it back for me?”

“I’ll call Miss Cornwallis tomorrow. But I want you to call Taylor and apologize.”

“He turned on me! He’s the one who should apologize!”

“Taylor’s not having an easy time of it, Noah. His parents just got divorced.”

He looked at her. “How do you know? Is he your patient?”

“Yes.”

“What did you see him for?”

“You know I can’t talk about that.”

“Like you ever talk to me about anything,” he muttered, and turned once again to stare out the window.

She knew better than to rise to the bait, so she said nothing, preferring silence to the argument that would surely erupt between them if she allowed him to provoke her.

When he spoke again, it was so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “I want to go home, Mom.”

“That’s where I’m taking you.”

“No, I mean home. To Baltimore. I don’t want to stay here anymore. There’s nothing here but trees and a bunch of old guys driving around in their pickup trucks. We don’t belong here.”

“This is our home now.”

“Not mine.”

“You haven’t tried very hard to like it here.”

“Like I had a choice? Like you asked me if we should move?”

“We’ll both learn to like it. I’m still adjusting, too.”

“So why did we have to move?”

Gripping the steering wheel, she stared straight ahead. “You know why.” They both knew what she was talking about. They’d left Baltimore because of him, because she’d taken a hard look at her son’s future and was frightened by what she saw. An enlarging circle of troubled friends. Repeated calls from the police. More courtrooms and lawyers and therapists. She had seen their future in Baltimore, and she’d grabbed her son and run like hell.