My stomach lurches before the house phone rings, and Victor passes it to me without a word. I don’t know how, but I know it’s her before pressing my ear to the phone. “Natalie?”
A pained croak comes from the other side of the line.
“What’s wrong?” She sucks in a breath and sobs some more. “Is it your mom?”
“She’s…,” Natalie starts, her voice cracking like I’ve never heard before. “She can’t die. I need you to come. I need you to come here right now. Mili’s on her way to get you.”
“But, Nat, what happened? Where are you?”
She tells me her mom is in a coma. “Please come. I need you.” The line goes dead.
I’m stuck in shock, still gripping the phone, the dial tone blaring out, my anxiety creeping in, when the doorbell rings. Miliani is waiting on the other side of the door, with her arms wrapped around herself and her curly hair in a messy ponytail.
“We need to head up to Newport,” she tells me.
I spot Jayson’s parked car and raise both brows.
“Don’t ask,” she says.
“It’s Sunday,” I say, and it sounds ridiculous. Natalie’s mom is in a coma. Our Nat.
But Miliani puts on her best sympathetic face. The one that says she’s choosing to be more understanding than judgmental. “Maybe your mom will understand.”
Mami’s facing the mirror, working curls into the ends of her hair with a big round brush. She notices me behind her but keeps going. Then I see something creep behind us both. The hairs on my arms prick, and everything suddenly stops, including my breathing. Time slows, right before a few shadows shoot by us. Mami doesn’t even blink. I tremble and turn to look around the room, but they’re gone. Am I seeing shit because Mili mentioned spirits earlier?
“What is it, Inez? Need something?”
I grab my left elbow with my right hand to still the shakes. For more reasons than one, I can’t tell Mami why I’m spooked. This is the first time she’s spoken directly to me since confronting me about Aaron. Victor learned the silent treatment from her.
While watching the mirror for shadows, I tell her about Nat’s mom. It takes her a few seconds, it takes me a prayer, but she says, “Ay dios mío. That poor family,” and puts down her brush.
I try to study her face while I say, “Nat wants me to go pray for her mom.”
“I don’t like you missing church, but”—Mami sighs and turns to grab both of my hands—“go show her the power of God.”
On the ride up to Newport, Jayson tries to make small talk with Mili. I haven’t had to be around the two of them since the breakup, and it’s not as awkward as I expected, but I wish he wasn’t here. Me and Mili need to talk about what I saw in Mami’s room. My wishes usually never amount to much, though, and after the small talk, I have to suffer through them filling each other in about which comic books they’ve read lately.
When we arrive, I think about the whir of hospital ventilation and the probing lights and the squeaky floors, and become even more anxious. I like to avoid hospitals after spending too much time in them years ago.
My first panic attack was “only heartburn, mija.” Mami gave me Tums and a pat on the back, but the chest pain became more constant, the dizziness kicked in. She didn’t take me seriously until my vision went black and I fell to the floor. Abuelo had had a heart attack that year, and I remember wondering if the doctors would confirm that I was dying too. But when they suggested anxiety, Mami refused the diagnosis. I was thirteen. What could I possibly have anxiety about?
They promised Mami they’d run tests: an EKG, an MRI with contrast, so not only was my chest burning, it felt like I’d peed myself too. But the ultrasound of my heart was comforting. The tech had the silkiest voice. She turned the screen. “See that? Those are the chambers. And that flutter? It’s working well.” She leaned in and whispered, “I’m not supposed to tell you, but your heart looks normal to me. When I’m scared or stressed, sometimes for no reason I can think of at all, I feel the same way you feel.” And in that darkened room, with her rolling jelly over my chest with an ultrasound probe, it was the calmest I’d felt all week.
The antiseptic smell sticks in my nose as we walk the halls, but at least Leanna looks relieved when she sees us. “Natalie hasn’t left my mom’s side. Maybe you guys can get her to eat something. Dev’s been trying.”
Mili pats her messenger bag. “Brought her favorite snacks.”
Leanna smiles, exhausted. “I’m going to step out for a while with Ava, but I’ll be right outside if you need me.” She takes her girlfriend by the hand and goes. Miliani asks Jayson if he can give us some time with Natalie, and he takes a seat by the window.
When we walk in, Dev taps Nat on the shoulder.
She’s hunched over her mom’s bed, unmoving. “Finally,” she says without looking up.
Miliani rubs Devin’s back. “You look so tired,” she tells him. “You should go get rest.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice. Once we’re alone with Nat, I wrap my arms around her from behind. “We should get you out of this room,” I say to her. “Get you changed, some food.”
But she stiffens and says, “Please shut the door and put down the privacy screen.”
“Are we allowed to do that here?”
Miliani doesn’t wait for an answer—she rushes to do it—and props a chair up under the door to keep it from opening.
I let go of Nat to look at her closely. I remember this look from Jasmine’s funeral. Her eyes are dark and open, red-rimmed.
She stands, and the chair makes a screeching noise against the marble floor. “We probably don’t have a lot of time. The nurses pop in and out.” She turns to Mili. “Did you bring it?”
Miliani opens her messenger bag—and it’s not filled with snacks, not one damn snack—then starts taking out supplies for a spell. My gaze bounces between them. “What’s going on?”
Natalie grabs my arms. “If the calling worked, maybe we can help heal my mom.”