18
Before leaving the hospital parking lot, Juliet telephoned Tavina’s mother, who was now living outside of New Orleans with Tavina’s oldest brother. Juliet answered the frightened woman’s questions as best she could, and then Tavina’s mom passed the phone over to her son.
“Hey,” he said in a low voice. “Straight up. How bad is it?”
“There are kids who make it,” Juliet explained, trying not to make any promises. “The medical personnel are monitoring his hydration status closely and will use potassium-free fluids until his renal function has stabilized.”
“Is he in renal failure? That can be fatal.”
“MD is showing some indications of stress on his kidneys, but the doctors assured your sister his condition is not at an acute stage at this point.”
When the call ended, Juliet clicked off her phone and tossed it in her purse. She started the engine and backed out of the parking spot, then pulled onto Martin Street and merged onto the 35 going north, leaving the hospital and the past several hours in her rearview mirror.
In some ways, Children’s Hospital was a shiny cup filled with sour milk. The bright exterior and colorful landscaping camouflaged an interior filled with anxious parents and children in pain.
Juliet couldn’t imagine being in Tavina’s place tonight, her torment too deep for words, only authentically expressed in her brown eyes, pooled with heart-wrenching agony.
She swallowed hard, wishing she could call and dump some of her own emotion into her mother’s caring lap. Her mom would know what to say to make Juliet feel better. She’d tell her the outcome of MD’s medical crisis was in a loving God’s hands, and Juliet would want to believe her.
The randomness of life, with all its tragedy, had never settled well with Juliet. She’d like to be convinced that some master being was indeed pulling the strings and orchestrating everything. Because then she’d have someone to blame when nothing made sense and hurtful events hurled into your lap like a steaming potato too hot to pick up and toss back.
At least Tavina had a mother and brothers who loved her and would support her through all this.
Juliet stared at the rear lights of the car in front of her, considering the fact she had no one. In only a short time, she’d lost her mom, sliced her father out of her life, and discovered her relationship with Greer was nothing but pretense.
Her existence was filled with co-workers and professional connections, and girlfriends she’d occasionally meet for dinner or drinks—but Juliet had no one to share her heart with. No one who understood she was a capable woman struggling with insecurity. Who would grasp that she was a bundle of contradictions, a person who was bold and fearful all at the same time? Who—except her dead mother—would truly know her and love her?
God would.
Unexpected tears burned at her eyes as her mother’s voice formed in her head, as if she were sitting in the passenger seat talking.
“Maybe so, Mom,” she tentatively whispered. “But he’s not here right now.”
You know better than that.
Juliet chewed the inside of her mouth, rolling that thought in her head. Clearly, the night’s events had taken their toll. Now she was hearing her dead mother preach.
Up ahead, she caught sight of a McDonald’s sign. Juliet rarely indulged in fast food and shouldn’t now, given how long it had been since her last run. But she was starving. With food in her stomach, she might think more clearly. Certainly, she wouldn’t find anything to eat in that empty refrigerator at home.
Juliet sighed, put her blinker on, and exited. Minutes later, she sat alone in a hard, plastic-backed chair in a dining room filled with empty tables, a greasy odor, and stained tile.
Her hands lifted the Big Mac from the tray and pulled the wrapped paper back. She prepared to take a bite when a buzzing sound came from beside her.
She set the burger back down and grabbed her bag, pulling her iPhone from its pocket, remembering she’d set the ringtone to mute in the hospital.
Greer.
Juliet rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to pretend with him tonight. She placed the phone, still buzzing, on the table and picked her hamburger back up. She took a bite, watching the phone finally go dark. As expected, a ding soon alerted that he’d left a voicemail.
Juliet indulged in a handful of hot, salty fries, letting the caloric intake do its trick. There was a reason carbs fried in hot grease were often called comfort food.
The phone rang again.
What could Greer possibly want at this time of night?
She pulled the protective paper from her straw and plugged it into the lid opening, ignoring the call, then took a drink from her super-sized Diet Coke.
The phone rang yet again.
Frustrated, she slammed the disposable cup to the table, grabbed the phone, and picked up. “Greer, it’s late.”
“Where have you been?” he shouted. “I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour. I drove by your house and left you phone messages. Why haven’t you been picking up?”
It was then Juliet noticed multiple missed calls. “Sorry, calm down. I was at the hospital with Tavina. Her little boy—”
“Juliet, have you seen the news?”
“Yes, I certainly didn’t look my best. Not when I was so tired.”
Greer huffed. “You have to get to the office. Now!”
“What are you talking about? What’s so important I’d have to get to the office this time of night?”
“The CDC just made a big announcement.”
The alarm in his voice caused the patterned tile to undulate in her vision, like she was suddenly shooting the rapids on the Comal River in a flimsy raft. “An announcement? What about?”
“They’ve identified the source.” On that, his voice broke.
Juliet nearly spilled her drink. “What? Where?”
“Officials are reporting the source . . . is Water Circus.”