Page 50 of It’s Me, but Different

“Watson Memorial Hospital,” my daughter responds, and I immediately try to remember if it's one of the hospitals my medical insurance covers, but I swear it's not.

“I'm on my way.”

“Hurry, Mom, please. I was so scared.”

I enter the hospital like a hurricane of panic and guilt, but soon, I realize something doesn't add up. I follow the directions they gave me at reception. I go up in an elevator that's too empty and immediately realize. Fifth floor. There are barely any doors, this doesn't look anything like hospitals I've been to before. There's tranquility. Silence. A silence that smells like money.

I stop in front of room 514 and take a quick look through the half-open door, not sure if I'm in the right place. This is a five-star hotel room that happens to have medical equipment.

“Mom!” Ana Sofia's shriek pulls me out of my shock.

Theo is lying in a bed, pale but awake, connected to a monitor measuring his vital signs. Ana Sofia is sitting in a chair next to him with a bunch of empty soda cans, and Sloane…

Sloane is standing by the window, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I can't decipher.

“How are you?” I gasp, running to the bed to take Theo's hand in mine.

“Fine,” my son responds with a very hoarse voice. “They had to operate on me, but I was asleep and didn't notice anything. Now it doesn't hurt anymore and they say I'll have a really cool scar.”

“A scar?”

“Like Sloane's on her knee,” he responds proudly.

“You should have seen him when they brought him back, Mom, he was talking like he was drunk,” his sister jokes.

“It was from the anesthesia, idiot,” Theo protests, seeming to have recovered some of his desire to argue with his twin.

I look at the room again and start feeling palpitations in my chest. The enormous fruit basket resting on the side table doesn't make me any calmer.

“Sloane,” I whisper, approaching her. “Why is he here?”

“Watson Memorial Hospital has an excellent pediatric surgery department,” is the only answer I get.

“Are all the rooms like this?” I ask cautiously.

“It's a VIP room,” she answers without more.

“My insurance doesn't cover VIP rooms, assuming it covers anything at this hospital, which I doubt very much.”

Sloane doesn't say anything, just looks at me with that irritating calm she has lately.

“Who's going to pay for all this? Can you explain that to me?” I insist, raising my voice more than would be appropriate in this situation. “Do you have any idea what a room like this might cost? And the operation? And all those doctors?”

“Esme…”

“NO!” I explode. “If you're going to tell me not to worry, don't. I don't have money for this. I don't have insurance that covers luxury private hospitals or VIP rooms. What have you done? You should have consulted me first. Now I…”

Sloane sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“Harper is on the Board of Directors of this hospital. She called to make sure Theo received the best possible care,” she explains, maintaining her calm.

“Harper called? Of course, the billionaire sister picked up the phone and organized everything withoutcounting on the child's mother. All very normal,” I complain, getting more and more nervous.

“Esme, it was an emergency, and we couldn't reach you. They had to operate on Theo with implied consent given the severity. Don't make this harder than it is.”

The reminder that my son could have died and I wasn't by his side hits me like I just got run over by a freight train.

“Harder than it is? And who pays the bill, Sloane? Because I can't. I can't afford this, and I won't let your family…”