Everything Changes in a Breath

Joey

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I try to breath as deeply as my lungs will allow; I pace back and forth, feeling as though the sterile white walls around me squeeze tighter and tighter around me, while at the same time, the anxiousness bubbling up inside of me nearly billows out, almost spilling into the clean air around me. I curse myself under my breath when I glance up at the clock, watching the hands antagonize me as they plod around the face, moving slower then muddy pond water.

Sunlight peers into the waiting room through the big pane of glass overlooking the lonely parking lot below. The neatly arranged, yet uncomfortable chairs lined up along the painfully achromatic wall are nearly empty; only a few anxious families occupy the space. Mostly they all seem more or less the same to me: a father with bloodshot eyes, desperately trying to control the sobbing mother, and possibly a child or two, fidgeting with wandering eyes, naïve as to what they are waiting for in this place. My family - my mother that is - seems to be the lone exception. Her misty green eyes are vacant, and her normally lovely rosy cheeks are now drained of any hue. She has her feet pulled up into the vinyl cushion, her arms locked around her knees like a vise; she shivers as if it is cold, even though it is quite warm in here. But that might just be me. Minute lines trace across her face, and her baby fine blonde hair is streaked with a premature grey. I hate seeing her like this. I can't see her like this; I have to look away.

Looking at my mother just now, I wonder what other people see when they look at me.

Do they see my cerulean eyes, looking startled, like a deer caught in headlights?

Do they see my plain features, creased with worry?

Do they see my pain?

Do they see me at all?

The methodical ring of a telephone drones on, and a far too cheery voice answers it. "Hello, you've reached Saint Mark's Children's Hospital. My name is Remmi. How may I assist  you?" All of this, she says with a smile, which disgusts me. How can she be so, so, pleasant when just around the corner there are small children dying.

Dying.

Dying.

My baby brother might be among them.

The swinging door leading to the back ward bangs open noisily, and the doctor steps out, his impeccable lab coat swishing around his legs.

"MacGregor?"

I look at my mother for a fraction of a second before I turn away again. She didn't hear him.

"Yes?"

He motions for me to come closer, and then, when I do, he gently grasps my shoulder and pulls me behind the door.

The scent of antiseptic wash and other prophylaxis fluids hit me like a wall, and I instinctively wrinkle my nose. But, I remind myself, The patients here have worse things to worry about than the smell.

Fear drops to my stomach like a pound of lead when I see the sadness seeping across the smooth planes of Dr. Callahan's face, and the melancholy notes tinging his warm eyes. "Miss MacGregor. Aislin, is it?"

I nod mechanically.

"Aislin..." The doctor scratches the back of his neck. "I'm afraid Joey isn't doing as well as we had hoped he would. The leukemia has progressed to a stage four, his body is rejecting the radiation treatments, and the chemotherapy is doing absolutely nothing. There is nothing else we can do for him."

I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes, but I cannot cry. No, I will not cry, not now, the doctor can't see me cry. Suddenly, I'm angry. "T-try har-harder." I croak.

The doctor questions me with his eyes.

I clear my throat. "I said, try harder."

"Excuse me, Miss, but I have tried the best that I could."

"Then your best isn't good enough."

"I'm sorry, Aislin, I know you're under a lot of stress right now, but try to understand. When its this bad, there's nothing-"

"Stop saying that! He's just a little boy! You say all these things like they're only facts, but they affect me! He's my baby brother, and I love him, and you have to fix him." Hysteria bubbles up through my diaphragm, making my voice waver. The tears pour out now, no way to stop them. "Please! Please! Pleeeeeas-"

He holds his hand up to stop me. "I'm sorry." His voice is full of authority. Then his words soften a bit. "Follow me, I'll show you where he is."