IX
Obviously they were confused. I tried to explain the best I could but I’m sure it just came out a little something like, “Luke…hospital…have to… help…” but Dad got the gist and he jumps out of bed.
“Come on I’ll drive you.”
“Three hours,” I manage out, trying to calm myself down.
“Do you want to bring my car or yours?”
“Mine,” I say, grabbing my still packed bag on the way out. I shove it in the backseat and we speed off. I’m still trying to calm myself down when I dial Mom’s number.
“Taylor where have you been?” she says.
“I was busy. Mom, how is Luke?” I ask desperately.
“Stable now. He passed out because he was dehydrated. He’s okay now, but it could have been worse. He hit his head on the counter pretty hard when he passed out, thankfully Kylee called me after calling 911. Are you on your way here?”
“Yeah… Dad is driving me,” I say carefully.
“Dad? Like John, Dad?” she asks, almost hopefully.
“Yes. I feel sort of bad we left Meghan with the kids but he offered to drive me and I wasn’t stable enough to drive myself and get there safely,” I explain.
“I’ll see you when you get here then,” she says.
Dad and I don’t talk for the whole ride. It’s nearly one in the morning when we get there and I nearly run to the desk. “Lucas Forest, where is he?” I ask.
“Visiting hours are over I’m-” the nurse says.
“I’m his sister and his primary caregiver. Give me his room number or so help me.”
“I’m sorry I can’t do that.”
“Taylor?” Kyle says, running to hug me. “Oh God we were so scared.”
“Where is he?” I ask, holding her at arm’s length.
“Can we…?” Kylee says, turning to the nurse. The nurse turns around and we take that as a yes. Dad follows us. Kylee leads me by the hand to him room. He and Fox are playing on my Gameboy and I cry again. Not a little cry but a full on ugly cry.
“Luke, baby, how are you?”
“My head hurts,” he whines, but then smiles, “I didn’t think you going to come.”
“I’ll always be here baby,” I say, smiling and crying. Fox climbs out of bed and pulls me into the hallway, where everyone else is sitting. Lauren is sleeping in Mom’s lap, and I scoop her up.
“They ran more tests, you know? It was bad, spinal taps and more bone marrow samples, Fox says.
“And?” I ask, searching his face for an answer before he verbalizes it. My chest pangs at the thought of Luke going through all that without me.
“His sub-type is B, and it always had been, but now it’s mature sub-type B,” Fox days, lowering his voice.
“What does that mean?”
