When I come to, I’m back in bed. Nurse Cathy stands on one side of me, fussing with my IV. The woman with the stethoscope is on the other side, leaning over me, pushing something that smells too minty-strong against my nose. I flick it away like a buzzing bug. A nuisance.
“Ruby,” Nurse Cathy says, “this is Doctor Patel. I get that you’re ready to bust out of here, but you need to listen to what she has to say.”
Doctor Patel takes a breath. “It’s very important that you stay in bed.” She looks at me. Wants her concern to sink in. But my concern is elsewhere. Its focus is someplace beyond this room.
“I have to find my mom.” I look at Nurse Cathy for help. She heard me. She knows how important this is.
“I understand. But you’ve been through a lot,” Doctor Patel says. “You were dehydrated and unconscious when you arrived three days ago.”
“Three days?”
She nods. “You came in with something called a staph infection; do you know what that is?”
“No.”
“It’s serious. It can lead to sepsis. When you arrived, your blood pressure was too low. Your heartbeat was erratic. And you were running a high fever. We’ve been treating you with an antibiotic called vancomycin because the cut on your arm needed stitches and the infection was resistant to penicillin. Your rescuers got you here just in time.”
I remember the jagged overhang in my safe space. The reach for my phone. My arm slicing open like cake when I pushed too hard to grab it. The way my pain had a heartbeat. The way my arm felt like it was on fire for the hours that sunk into days. The fire is dull now. From medicine, I guess.
“You’re a lucky one,” Nurse Cathy says.
“Am I?”
Doctor Patel smiles. “You are. But you still need to take it easy so you can heal completely. We were giving you medicine to help you sleep. You don’t seem like you need it anymore. But I do need you to stay in bed.” Her eyes are gentler than I’d realized. They match her voice. “You need close monitoring and lots of rest. Can you let us do our part while you do yours?”
Nurse Cathy nods. “Listen to Doc Patel, sweetie.”
“Why?”
“She knows what’s best. We’ve worked shifts together for a decade. She’s one of our top doctors and I trust her. You should, too.” She leans in. “And if you want in on a little secret, she’s also a movie genius. She sweeps our ICU Oscar pool every year.”
How can Nurse Cathy be talking about movies? How can she be so calm? When I’m sitting here worrying about whether or not I’ll ever see my mom again?
“Look,” Doctor Patel says firmly, so opposite of Nurse Cathy’s sweetie and honey and pats on the shoulder. “You’ve lived through a catastrophic 7.8-magnitude earthquake, Ruby. The Big One. There are repercussions from the ocean to the desert. Water supplies are limited. There are casualties in the thousands. This hospital is being run on generators. Phones aren’t working. The internet isn’t working. No TV, so we can’t even fully keep track of the news as it breaks. Reuniting family members has been a difficult and arduous task, not just here but everywhere.”
“But my mom—”
Nurse Cathy nods. Tries to soothe me with a look. “We know.”
My questions pile on top of one another like the rubble. How can anyone think I’d even want to be alive in a world without my mom in it? The hours in a world without Charlie in it have been bad enough, and I just met him. And what about everyone else? All the people I care about. Leo. Thea. Iris. Juliette. My teammates. Coach. And yes, Mila. Where are they? If everyone’s gone, what would be the point of my going on?
Doctor Patel says, “Teams of people are working hard to reconnect family members. And it is happening. But it’s taking a lot of time with so many systems down. We want to find your mom, too. And when we do, you will be the first to know. I promise.”
I fist my hands in frustration. “You can’t really promise that.”
“I can do my best.” Doctor Patel doesn’t look at me.
Neither does Nurse Cathy.
Because they know I’m right. They might never find her. And if they do, she might not be alive.
Nurse Cathy says, “There are FEMA crews out there. And the American Red Cross. They’ve set up shelters all over. And there are everyday people crossing state lines to pitch in. So many folks are out there trying to help.”
I nod. That’s great, but I can’t see how it helps me.
I’m so hungry. The realization sinks me.
“Food?” I ask.
“Certainly.” Doctor Patel looks at Nurse Cathy. “I think she’s ready for something besides liquids. Jell-O maybe? Do we have any left?”
“On it,” Nurse Cathy says, and heads out the sliding glass door.
Doctor Patel stays with me. “The earthquake has been devastating. We need more people like you out there. To help with cleanup and getting us back to normal. I have a feeling you can do a lot of good when you get out of here. So will you rest up and get strong, Ruby?”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
Doctor Patel leaves, and Nurse Cathy returns with a snack pack–size Jell-O cup like the ones my mom used to put in my school lunches in elementary school.
“I got you the last one.”
She sets it on a tray in front of me, peels the lid off. I spoon a wobbly bite into my mouth and feel it go down my throat all smooth and easy. I hum with relief, my tongue wrapping around the sweet taste of it. I spoon another bite. Swallow.
“My mom used to pack Jell-O in my school lunches,” I mumble through a mouthful.
“Mine too.” Nurse Cathy smiles. “Strawberry is the best flavor, don’t you think?”
“Right now, it’s pretty much the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“My mom used to buy the variety pack, and my sister and I would argue over who got the strawberry ones.”
I take another bite. “Who won?”
“My sister. Usually.” She studies me. “You remind me of her.”
“Why? Because I keep arguing with you?”
Nurse Cathy laughs. A real laugh. Like Charlie in the rubble. It’s amazing how joy can be found in such horrifying places. And that kindness can happen with the simplest of gestures. Like a cup of Jell-O.
“For the record, you remind me of my sister because you don’t give up. You’re a fighter just like she is.”
“I don’t feel like a fighter.”
“You are. Fighting is what got you here.”
But I know it’s not just me. It’s people, too. From Charlie to Cathy. From the big hands and the calm voice to Doctor Patel. From the woman who flipped the safety switches to the woman in the hallway with the clipboard. So many people have fought to get me here. They believed in my strength.
I have to believe in it, too.