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Cameron
Arlene fusses in my arms while I pace a three-foot stretch of hallway in the Lewes Beebe Medical Center. Between the freezing air-conditioning, my wet clothes, and my anxiety, I can’t bring myself to sit down in the waiting area, so I remain as close as is permitted to where they are working on Shirlene. During this hellish hour and twenty minutes, no one has been able to tell me what’s going on, and I’m trying but failing to keep my worry from traveling to Arlene. She needs her mother. I need her mother.
Double doors clang open and shut as a doctor pushes through. “Are you here for Rain DeLuca?”
“Yes. How is she? Can I see her?”
“You may visit her in a few minutes.” The doctor, whose long black hair is tied back in a ponytail, eyes the whimpering baby.
I move Arlene up onto my shoulder and rub her back. “I have no one to stay with her.”
“Ms. DeLuca is disoriented, but she’s doing okay. Were you the person who administered CPR?”
“Yes.”
“Your quick actions made the difference. She isn’t showing signs of permanent brain damage, but we’re giving her oxygen until her blood tests return to normal. She needs to stay for observation. Lung problems, such as pneumonia, can develop within the first twenty-four hours after submersion.”
“Please let me see her now.”
“In a moment. You need to be prepared. It may not make sense, but Ms. DeLuca could be depressed. Near-drowning survivors can have several emotional issues. Try not to become alarmed. Stay calm. Avoid asking her questions at this point.” She frowns at Arlene. “If you can keep the baby quiet, you may follow me.”
The doctor’s stern demeanor does nothing to calm me down. I’m led past several sets of drapes before the doctor glides one open. Shirlene’s eyes are closed, and she looks frighteningly pale.
“Doctor, can she hold the baby?” I whisper.
“Only if she requests to do so. Otherwise, do not overstimulate her.” The doctor leaves, closing the curtain.
I sit as quietly as I can in a chair, but Shirlene opens her eyes.
“Hi,” I say.
She coughs. “My throat is sore.”
I notice a plastic cup with a straw in it. Balancing Arlene in the crook of my left arm, I hold the straw to Shirlene’s lips with my other hand.
She takes a swallow. “Did you haul me out of the ocean?”
I nod. A million questions rush to my mind. Why was she swimming in the pouring rain? What happened to cause her to nearly drown? Why did she call me Mike before passing out? I fight the fear that she’s Rain and not Shirlene but restrain myself and follow the doctor’s orders by not asking questions.
“We’re both grateful you’re alive.” I shift Arlene around to face her mother.
Shirlene reaches out and touches the baby’s arm. “This is Arlene.”
This declaration is odd, but the doctor said she might seem confused.
“Hello, baby girl.” Shirlene closes her eyes again, and her deliberate breathing indicates she’s falling asleep.
A nurse opens the curtain. “We have a bed open. We’ll be moving her shortly.”
The baby breaks into a full-out cry, but Shirlene doesn’t stir. I desperately dig through the bag of things I brought in search of a bottle.
“Can you take the baby away?” the nurse asks.
I glare at her.
“We need to keep Ms. DeLuca quiet. It may be best if you go home and sleep. Updates will be available during the night. If she is released tomorrow, it will be a challenging day for her. You’ll need to prepare. Light foods, rest. There will be instructions in the discharge papers.”
I curb my desire to bundle Shirlene up in my arms. Instead, I lightly kiss the top of her head and move lethargically out and through the double doors.
Before leaving the ER, Arlene reminds me she’s hungry. I sink into the nearest empty chair. She drinks as I try not to cry. The doctor warned me the survivor could be depressed, but I wonder about the rescuer. I’m beyond thankful Shirlene didn’t drown. I should be happy. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s not right.
When the baby is done, I burp her and slip the bottle into the bag. The rain has stopped, but Delaware humidity waves over me as I stagger out of the hospital. I shuffle through the thick air and become aware of my damp clothes clinging to me. My skin and hair are covered with sticky salt. I need a shower and some sleep.
After I set Arlene in her car seat, my phone pings. A text from Aimee.
I’m definitely coming home. My agent is threatening to drop me because I’m not completing my contract. He’s a dickhead anyway. I need to see my therapist. I’m crashing, Cam. I have a lot to tell you, but it has to be in person. You have your hands full with the baby and Rain, but I wanted to tell you.
Sorry, I text back. I remember her apartment is sublet to someone. Do you have a place to stay?
Yes. Nancy, who is subletting my place, is okay with me staying in the spare room. Better if I’m not alone.
This doesn’t sound good. I text back, Let me know when you arrive. Safe travels.
I can’t begin to tell her everything that’s happening with me. She obviously has more than she can handle already. Otherwise, there’s no reason she would be cutting her tour short and pissing off her agent. She didn’t say exactly when she’d be back. I hope things will be calmer on my end by then.