Chapter Two
Everything happened in slow motion at first. Penny went dizzy and limp. Mom and Dad scrambled out of the house telling me to get in the car. Penny was breathing, but she was unconscious. My Dad revved up his sleek black sedan and drove with a heavy foot. We drove. I sat in the front. Mom sat in the back, clutching to Penny, trying to wake her up. None of us were even buckled in. My brain was in overdrive at all the terrible possibilities with Penny, with the safety of our speedy drive through our town, onto a highway that once caused me nightmares. We were on the way to Roxton Hospital five exits away in a city full of big businesses of no interest. I held my breath the entire way, anticipating a do-over.
Despite my racing heart, nothing else occurred. We arrived at the hospital. Mom jumped out, cradling Penny in her arms as she ran to the emergency door. Dad parked and I followed him in. A nurse directed us to the waiting room.
After almost an hour of waiting, Mom emerged from two swing-doors.
“Doctor Lenewski is calling for a head CT. Penny’s been having those minor headaches lately and now this? What the hell, Tom?” Mom holds a worry in her eyes I’ve only seen during her miscarriage that never was.
Dad grunted and said, “Gale, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not possible.”
“What’s not possible?” I dared to ask.
“Nothing-“ Dad blurted.
Mom interrupted with, “It’s fine, Tom. We can tell her.”
“Tell me what?” My breathing became rapid and uneasy. “What?”
“Penny . . .” Mom lowered her head and clasped her hands. She fought back tears. “Penny had a cyst on her brain at birth. They verified it after many ultrasounds. It was a tumor, Clara, but the doctors successfully removed it. It was so small; they said it wouldn’t affect her mental development. Now that she’s been having these headaches I can only fear the worst.”
“Mom’s always thought pennies were lucky. Pick one up off the ground heads up, and you’re in for a good day. That’s why we named her Penny. She was our lucky miracle baby.” Dad smirked and added, “Gale, how long do we wait?”
“It could be a little bit, so we should get some water and maybe a bite for Clara to eat. I’m not hungry.”
“Neither am I. We ate a lot for breakfast, anyways. I don’t want to leave you guys.” A million pounds of guilt crashed upon my shoulders.
I had been the one to push Mom over the edge of stress and cause her miscarriage. But by going back and preventing that, being more helpful and courteous to my parents, Penny was healthy and born into this world. Since I saved her, I had no clue about the cyst on her brain. What parent would share that information anyways? Could I have done something to prevent it? Was there something else I did to cause it? It’s as if Penny was destined to have something wrong with her. As I stood thinking, my parents sat pretending to read magazines. I contemplated telling them everything, but I would’ve been admitted to a loony bin. And Penny was in a dark room somewhere getting her brain scanned, scared to death of what was beyond her knowledge. At that moment, I vowed to help more than ever, be there for her, a personal guardian angel.
A doctor emerged from the ER security doors into the crowded waiting room, his hair as white as the lab coat around his scrubs. He flipped through pages on a clipboard as if he was going over in his head one more time what to say. He asked in loud voice for the parents of Penny Moore, My parents stood up and he hesitantly greeted them, only glancing back at me briefly.
“Mr. and Mrs. Moore, Penny’s CT scans came back.” Doctor Lenewski walked closer, lowering his voice “There is a mid-grade astrocytoma on the right side of her brain, which is a type of tumor. Fortunately as you can see on these scans, it’s small, but we should operate on it as soon as possible. We will bring in Dr. Shell, a pediatric neurologist. She will take a few more scans to confirm our findings, assess the area that needs operating, and give you a plan of action. Has Penny had any other problems aside from headaches and today’s unconsciousness?”
I shook my head. He wasn’t asking me.
Dad replied, “No, well, she had some vision issues develop over the last few months. We brought her to get glasses, and they’re being made. Is that something to worry about?”
Dr. Lenewski looked down at his clipboard again and jotted some notes. He cleared his throat and commented, “Keeping that in mind. Sometimes these types of tumors can affect motor skills. If we’re successful removing the tumor, her eye sight could return to normal.”
Mom and Dad chatted with the doctor quietly, so I could not hear. I could take the hint and stepped back a bit, staring with wonder. In such a huge world, full of choices, why did something awful have to happen to my baby sister? With me having strange powers, I was curious if it was some form of punishment for having an ability to choose my own outcomes in life. Still, my stomach jolted with anticipation and worry, a feeling I familiarized myself with long ago. Anger began to boil inside of me. If I couldn’t change Penny’s own outcomes, perhaps I would be able to alter them in her favor. I could do my research and try to control my time-jumps back to when she was born. Maybe, just maybe I can finally take charge of this power and help change the present.
I must be crazy.
“Tom, why don’t you take Clara home for a bit?” Mom suggested. She wiped a tear from her eye, “I’m going to stay here and get Penny settled in her room. If you could bring some of Penny’s clothes, too, and Bobo.” Mom’s nose was red from holding back tears.
My eyes welled. No matter how hard I concentrated, I could not see any outcomes. Perhaps it was only during a choice or action that I could see things. I had a lot to learn.
Dad and I went home, quietly. We entered our old colonial home with just an uneasy glance at one another. He instructed me in a monotone voice to gather a few things from Penny’s room. I knew where everything was, after all. Up the stairs I went, trying to avoid the creaky wooden steps since the house was in total silence. Something wicked hovered around our family. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for Penny. My little sister was wavy-haired, wide-eyed, and always happy. Her smile lit up the sky, her giggle melted hearts. At four years old, she had the whole world in front of her.
There I sat on her tiny bed and took a deep breath. I held Bobo’s giant paw and dragged him downstairs along with Penny’s gold-glitter suitcase. Dad was on the phone, speaking quietly.
“Right, right, I know Sandra. I know.” He placed his hand over his eyes and added, “It’s not like we haven’t been through this before. Doctors in, doctors out. I just didn’t think it would happen again. Yes, Gale would really appreciate you coming from California. If you can reach Alicia and Mary as well, that would help a lot.”
He closed his flip-phone and placed it in his back pocket.
“Is Penny going to be alright, Dad?” I asked the question he didn’t want to hear. “If you and Mom have gone through this before, did she have good doctors? Was there anything you could’ve done to prevent this thing from forming on her brain? I’m not trying to depress you, but I’m nineteen and I am an adult. You can talk to me.”
Dad and I were never really close. He worked too much and still viewed me as a ten year old who knew nothing of real issues. In my younger years, he attempted buying my love through over-the-top birthday presents: a mountain bike at eleven that even the snobby kids in school didn’t get, a laptop at thirteen, and even a five-hundred dollar gift card to the mall at sixteen. Seriously, I wished they would have saved that money for something more useful.
“Cancer is a terrible thing, Clara.” Dad stated, “I don’t know about all of that doctor stuff. Maybe we could’ve afforded a better one, maybe that one turned out to be garbage too. You never know. Your Mother and I did what we could. You know, you had a brand new dentist when you were five. That guy was young and naïve, but he did an amazing job cleaning you up.”
I stifled a laugh. “My teeth are far from what I’m talking about, Dad.”
“It’s the same principle. If doctors and nurses suck, they suck.”
“But if they cost more, they get paid more, which means they do relatively good in their field.” I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted him to answer me.
He replied, “Look, ten different doctors could operate on the same person, and it could come out ten different ways. Can we just leave the questions alone for now? Your Mother and I are doing what we can.”
“Ten different ways . . .” I focused on this statement for a moment. “Sorry, I’ll stop. Just wish I was more help.”
“I know, hon. I know.” Dad gazed at Bobo. “Come on, you big bear, let’s go see Penny.”
I helped Dad load the car. Bobo sat in the back seat, behind me.
The ride back to the hospital was quiet. Dad stopped and got us some burgers at a fast food drive through. He picked up something for Mom as well, wrapped neatly in a brown bag. When we arrived, Mom was in Penny’s room. Dad told me to sit in the waiting room until he saw Penny first.
I glanced around the emergency room lobby, taking in the mesmerizing chaos that lay before me. All of these people were in pain, patiently waiting for news. Mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, and other family paced back and forth, trying to console one another. It was an eye-opening experience.
“It was only for a minute,” a shorter woman with black hair and neck tattoos cried to a nurse. “I only turned my head for a minute. My stupid husband fell off of the ladder. He was just cleaning the gutters.”
“Mrs. Gauge, your husband will be fine. He fell pretty hard, threw his back out, but he is doing fine.”
I turned again and saw a little boy curling up to an older man with graying hair. He mumbled something about his grandmother and her heart hurting.
I couldn’t take anymore. So many people with so many what-ifs. I couldn’t see their alternate outcomes, but I could guess at them. My head began to throb. I needed fresh air.
“Clara,” Dad emerged from the swinging doors. “Penny can see you. Come in.”
My feet dragged me step by step. I followed Dad down the hall, trying so hard not to peek into other rooms. We passed one room where a tall man with a skeletal face stood in the doorway, scratching his skin as if it were infested with bugs. He spotted me and stared me down with dark, empty eyes.
“I’m gonna die,” He said. “I’m gonna die and Sara’s gonna die.”
Scared, I grabbed my Dad’s hand.
“Dad, what’s wrong with that guy?”
He glanced back over his shoulder and replied, “Drugs.”
“Shouldn’t he be in detox?” I asked.
Surprised by my question, Dad sighed. He said, “Yeah, not everyone makes it there.”
How little I knew about the world.
We arrived at Penny’s room. I spotted Bobo right away, in a chair next to her bed. Mom’s voice echoed sweet poetry through the entryway. She was reading to Penny, who was lying down in a hospital bed. The room was warm, welcoming with floral wallpaper and soft noise from a little television mounted to the upper corner of a wall. I could see a tray of half-eaten fruit on a round table under the t.v. Penny ate all of the grapes, only some strawberries, and one bite of an apple. She didn’t care for Granny Smiths. Neither did I.
“Penny,” I stood next to my baby sister. “How are you doing, kid?”
“I don’t feel good.” She replied. “Bobo’s here!”
“Haha. Yes, Bobo is here. He wanted to visit you, tell you his stories.” I smiled and laughed, “Bobo has so many stories for you.”
Penny giggled. “Bobo went to the moon!”
“Did he see an alien?”
“Yeah. A big green alien. He had horns.”
“What else? Did the alien have a scary face?” I continue.
Penny put her hands out like claws. “A scary face with sharp hands. He roared like a dragon.”
Mom laughed. “Sounds like a dragon, not an alien.”
Penny added, “A dragon alien! He couldn’t fly. Bobo chopped his wings.”
Dad interjected, “Alright, save the stories for bed time.”
“Excuse me,” A slim female with a kind face appeared. Her cherry red lipstick brightened up the room. “I’m Dr. Lucy Shell. I’m the neurologist Dr. Lenewski referred.”
Dad stood at attention. Mom slowly got up. I stayed in my spot, taking Penny’s hand in mine. She squeezed my hand. We braced ourselves.
sly, could he not get any cuter? He sat there, observed his surroundings, and let the barber do his thing. All those little clips of hair fell and I reflected on how much he has grown just in a year.
Maranda Writes 