Page 6 of Blackwood

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Uncle Jack’s scar curls down his left forearm, old and quiet. He gives me a small smile. He doesn’t usually pick me up from school, so I know something is wrong.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says crouching next to me. His emerald eyes meet mine, steady and calm. “Change of plans. Your mom had a little scare. Nothing to panic about, but I’m taking you to the hospital.”

We don’t talk on the drive. No music. No jokes. The window is cracked and the air is cold, but I don’t roll it up. I count the leaves we pass, orange and burgundy blurs, pretending if I make it to a hundred everything will be okay.

I stare without seeing, fingers clenched in Uncle Jack’s hand. His thumb traces soft circles on my palm. Not enough to stop the fear climbing up my chest, but enough to remind me I’m not alone.

My heart thuds louder with every mile. “Uncle Jack,” my voice shakes. “Is she gonna be okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just shuts off the engine, turns to face me, and brushes a stray hair from my face.

“She’s strong, Bells. Stronger than anyone I know.”

That’s not a yes.

I follow him through the sterile maze of the hospital, my shoes scuffing faintly against the too-clean linoleum. The air smells like disinfectant and something sour underneath.

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and cold, casting stretched shadows that cling to the floor like whispers. My chest aches. Every breath shallow. Panic simmers just under my skin.

The nurses behind the counter smile that rehearsed smile, all pity and no comfort. It makes something inside me angry. I want to run. To turn back time.

When we reach Mama’s room, Uncle Jack kneels beside me.

“She’s tired. But she wants to see you.”

Daddy and Aunt Claire are already there. Daddy sits hunched beside the bed, his large, calloused hand trembling as he brushes hair from Mama’s forehead. His eyes are bloodshot, jaw locked. Every breath he takes sounds thick, like it hurts just to breathe.

Aunt Claire stands at the foot of the bed, one hand pressed to Mama’s chart. Her face is pale, lips tight, and her eyes are glassy and rimmed in unshed tears.

Just as I step inside, a man walks in.

Dr. Callahan.

He gives me a small nod, turns to Daddy and Aunt Claire, something heavy in his eyes. “Can I speak with you both in the hallway for a moment?”

Daddy looks from me to Mama, reluctant, like leaving her for even a second will break him. Aunt Claire touches his arm.

He leans down, kisses Mama’s forehead, and whispers to her. “I’ll be right back.”

I turn back to Mama, my chest tight with fear. “Mama?”

She opens her eyes and smiles soft, small, but real. “Hi, Sugar Bear. Come here.”

I crawl into bed beside her and rest my head against her chest. “I missed you today,” I whisper.

“I missed you more.” Her fingers stroke my hair. “How was school?”

“It was ok. At recess, I showed my friends the new routine. It was hard, but I danced really good, Mama.”

“That’s my girl,” she whispers. “Keep dancing. No matter what. You hear me?”

I nod and close my eyes. From the hallway, I hear Daddy’s voice rise, sharp, raw, and angry.

“What do you mean there’s nothing else you can do?” he roars. “You’re a goddamn hospital, don’t just stand there! DO SOMETHING! That’s my wife in there. The woman I built my world with. You don’t get to shrug and walk away!”

“Henry, please,” Aunt Claire says. “Calm down. Let him talk. Yelling isn’t going to help.”