Seventeen-year-old Hazel never saw having a sick mom in her future. And the last thing she expected was for her new next-door neighbor to give her a checklist that would change everything.
*****
After Hazel Winter's mom got sick, all emotion vanishe...
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The high from River doesn't last long. The following day after school, I arrive at my mom's hospital room, a team of doctors standing around her bed.
I've been in hospitals long enough to know that when you walk into three of them, it's obviously something serious. Margie is standing in the hallway, lingering by the door to try and overhear what they're saying. She got the gist of it because she's giving me that look again—that look of pity.
"Um, hello." I walk forward into the room and set my backpack down on one of the chairs, reaching out to clumsily shake one of their hands when they stick it out to me. All three of them look just as young as I am. I'm surprised they're already doctors, if I'm being honest. "I'm Hazel, her daughter. Is everything alright?"
After that, I don't hear much. I catch the key points: her kidneys are failing, she needs to get on a transplant list, and she needs to go to dialysis three times a week now. Of course, I'm replying and asking questions, but I'm not hearing what's coming out of my mouth or listening to what they say. In my head, I'm trying to plan things out. The routine has changed again, so I have to readapt.
"And I can take her after school?" I ask.
They nod.
My mom is still sleeping. She's been sleeping a lot, and now I know why. Not even Margie can cheer me up when she follows in after the doctors leave, ginger ale and ice cream in hand. I don't want ice cream. I don't want soda. All I want are for things to return to normal.
"I just need to..." I let out a deep breath, shaking my head from all the information. "I just need a minute. I'll be back."
"Hazel," Margie interjects, but I'm already out the door.
***
For the life of me, I'll never understand why I came here, of all places. I guess it's because this is where everyone goes when they're at their last resort, right? When they feel like they have no other option?
The huge, daunting cross stares back at me, and it's so quiet in this chapel that I can hear ringing in my ears. Maybe that's because I'm still trying to process what I heard. I'm stressed out and devastated by this news, yet I'm still not crying.
Maybe I thought being in this chapel would give me some spiritual awakening that people talk about sometimes. You know, when they get this life-altering feeling or hear a voice in their head that tells them what they're supposed to do, but instead, all I hear is silence. A loud, deafening silence.
I want to scream my lungs out at the cross. I want to ask what kind of God, if there even is a God, would make my mother go through this? Would make me go through this? It's not fair. I'm so angry that my hands shake as I bring my knees to my chest on the bench. I press my forehead against them and let out a frustrated sigh.
