Hey Monday-Sincerely, Tuesday

Monday-Summer's Here, and I'm at the Doctor's

My head throbbed.  I stared at the test in front of me, my pencil hovering an inch above the paper.  I didn't remember any of this.

I was sitting in class, struggling with my bio exam.  I had tried to study, but I kept worrying about Tuesday.  She was six months pregnant, and it was starting to take a toll on her.  While she tried to help me learn the material, I had kept noticing the little things about her.  The fact that she was looking pale.  The way she kept rubbing her temples.  The dark circles under her eyes.  The fact that she looked so sad. 

With a sigh, I turned my attention back to my exam.  When this was over, school was out.  Thank God.  Now I just needed to finish.  I struggled with the bones in a human body, wishing Tuesday were here.  She always calmed me down.  Unfortunately, she had Chemistry 6th hour.

I managed to hang in there, and finished the last question just as the bell rang.  People were freaking out, running around like nuts.  Hey, school WAS out.  I just trudged to my locker and started cleaning it out.  I was ready to dump everything in the garbage can when a note written on lime green paper.  I unfolded it, curious.On it was loopy handwriting I didn't recognize. 

Old band locker room. NOW.

-A Friend

I sighed.  When was this cryptic letter writing going to stop?  First Tuesday with Bryce, and now me.  Was it too much to ask?  Just to get a 'good luck' letter from Tuesday?  Grumbling, I walked into the old locker room, pulling a glowstick out of my bag and cracking it, allowing a tiny pit of spooky green light around the room. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw light.  I turned, and saw a shadowy figure sitting in one of the giant sousaphone lockers, a red glowstick around its neck. I walked towards it, and opened the grated door.  Once in the huge locker, I got a good look at the person.  Definitely female, I could tell from the uniform.  NO guy would wear the skirt, no matter his sexuality.  I coldn't see the face, which was shadowed by the way she was sitting. 

"Hello, Monday.  Good to see you," said her voice.  It sounded familiar, but I can't indentify people by voices.  Plus, it echoed around the locker room so much it was very distorted to my ears. 

"Tell me why you called me here," I snapped, irritable.  "It's summer vacation and I need to see Tuesday, not sit in a stuffy locker with some unknown stranger."

She laughed.  "Monday, you're not the perceptive type.  You never were." She lit a candle and leaned forward, allowing the flickering light to illuminate her face.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  It was Jamie.  Part of the reason I couldn't see her face was because of the baseball cap that she liked to wear. 

"Oh, hey Jamie.  Can we get done with this business so I can go see Tuesday?" I begged.

"Mm-hm.  This is about Tuesday.  I love her like family, but I'm worried.  That child is starting to take it's toll on her.  She's so tired lately, and she's not eating as much as she should."

"She isn't?" I asked, surprised.  She had downed almost a quarter of the lasagna her mom had made last night. 

"Not always.  I'm just worried.  I keep telling her, but she won't listen to me.  You need to hound on her a little."

"She hates it when I hound on her," I said.

"I know that.  The only difference is, she'll listen to you.  You're not a liar Monday, and you're the only one she'll listen to.  She won't listen to me, to Bryce, to her mom.  If her dad was still around, she wouldn't even listen to him.  She loves you, Monday, enough to jump off a bridge if it was for you.  You need to tell her to see a doctor about this."

"Okay, sure, I'll just do that," I said, my voice doused in sarcasm.  "and she'll go, and I will get my head handed to me on a silver platter beforehand."

She glowered at me.  "Just trust me on this, Monday.  You have to.  Unless you want her to possibly not be able to birth her kid."

I was already walking out.  "I'm on it," I called over my shoulder. 

***

"I am SO hating you right now," said a pouting Tuesday as we sat in the waiting room of the local obstricain, Dr. Grey.  "I'm FINE."

"No, you're not," I said.  Her hands were shaking, but not out of fear.  Out of exhaustion. "Take a look at yourself in the mirror, Tuesday, and ask yourself if what you see is 'fine'." She shot me a look.  

The nurse poked her head into the waiting room.  "Nilson?  Tuesday Nilson?"   Tuesday stood up, and I followed.  We were led into a room with an ultrasound machine, and one of those beds with the crinkly paper.  She sat in one of the chairs, and I sat in the other.  "Okay, Dr. Grey will be with you momentarily."  

 We waited, and he came in about five minutes later.  "Ah, Tuesday.  Good to see you.  How can I help you today?"

"I don't know.  I don't even know why I'm here.  Monday made me come after exams."

Dr. Grey didn't respond.  He was busy examining her face.  Then he listened to her heartbeat, and took her blood pressure.  He made her do an ultrasound, much to her annoyance.   The entire time, she was mumbling some very creative obscenities under her breath. 

Once it was over, Dr. Grey said she was fine, but he wanted to talk to me in private.  She left, and he looked at me, seeming so much older and tired.  "You might want to sit down, Monday."

Confused, I sat in the chair.  "Doc, Tuesday's not okay, and you know it.  So why did you say she was okay?"

He sighed.  "I helped Chelsea birth young Tuesday, and have known her for quite a bit.  I just didn't have the heart to tell her the truth."

I gripped the armrests of the chair.  "What truth, Doc?  What's going on?"

He took a deep breath but never seemed to exhale.  "I'm so sorry, Monday, but there is a very slim chance that Tuesday will make it through this process."

My mouth hung open.  "You..you don't mean that...you can't..."

Dr. Grey's face seemed to sag.  "I do, Monday.  Most likely, Tuesday is going to die."

"But-but-b-b-b-b-b-but" I stuttered.  "I sthere a chance that she'll live?"

"A very slim one, Monday." he sighed.  "Most likely, exhaustion and weakness will eat away at her until she births her son, which will finish her off."

I started hyperventilating. 

"You may go, now, Monday.  I'm sorry."  

I walked out, feeling numb.  The ride home was silent.  I didn't have the heart to tell Tuesday.  I just couldn't look her in the eye and tell her she was going to die.  I loved her, there was no way in hell I could do that.  There was only one thing left to do. 

Help her write a letter to our son.