Clever Girl

Chapter 42: the force of a million exploding universes

Heart monitors really are a funny, strange thing. When your heartbeat is detected, it transmits a radio signal to the receiver which then displays your heart rate. Like it's music and we're forever listening to it as it plays away our entire life. My mother's resting rate is just less than sixty right now, which means it's below normal. Every beep is torture - no matter how slight the actual sound is, to me it's a deafening bell tower ringing slowly in my head. There are more valleys than mountains. 

She's awake, but weak, with eyes blinking soft and constant. The nurse who is attending to her has assured me she'll be okay, but I don't know if it's acceptable to state such a thing when nothing is certain anymore. 

I hold her hand and she smiles at me, "Listen to the nurse, Veronica. I'll be fine."

"You don't know that," I respond, quiet - almost to myself. 

"Trust me. Everything will be okay. You'll see. And you're strong enough to handle anything that happens. Just promise me you'll stop putting your entire life on hold. You need to go out there and live."

"Stop talking like that, like something bad's about to happen. And this isn't about me."

"Nonsense. We're a family. It's about all of us." She keeps her voice calm and kind, but no matter how hard she tries, I can see the sadness and the fear in her eyes.

I breathe in and try to remain calm as well, even though the usual anger I feel is pushing through my heart, into my lungs, and threatening to spill out. "You're right, I . . . I promise."

"Really promise. Don't just say it to make me happy and not follow through."

"I really promise, mom. I'll stop putting my life on hold."

"That's good. That's all your father and I ever wanted for you."

I turn so she can't see may face, and I wipe a tear away. "Then you might be happy to hear that I've been invited to a fundraiser. Principal Cranston gave me this super fancy invitation himself. I thought maybe Matty could come, and we can facetime with you and dad while there?"

She tells me how proud she is of me, for letting go of my reservations and displaying what I'm capable of - for no longer hiding. We then spend the next hour or so talking about the fundraiser, the purpose and the possible guests, and I'm relieved when she doesn't once mention she'd like to attend. I know she wants to. I can hear it in her voice - but I can also hear her pain and hesitation. 

***

Albert Einstein once said that life is like a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving. I must've stopped moving a hundred times, because my soul is bruised and my heart is always aching. Will is right though, I have got to stand up and stop feeling sorry for myself. 

It's the middle of the week and I'm once again in Jay's Calculus class. This time, per Marina's request, it's permanent.  I had no idea that Guidance Counselors had the authority to change a student's schedule in the middle of the school year. When she first sprung it on me, I was furious, ready to walk out in protest. Then I remembered my conversation with Will, and thought it best not to create more chaos for myself. One thing I'm thankful for is that Marina seems to have forgotten the sessions I had promised her months ago. She hasn't brought it up in a long time, so it's probably best not to argue with her about anything. 

Thankfully, Miss Keating doesn't have us play Rapid Fire again. The class goes by quietly, with students going through the next few work pages of their textbooks on their own. There's some whispers and small talk, but not one word is directed at me. It seems like whatever excitement the class had felt the first time I was here is completely gone now, and I couldn't be happier about that.