Chapter 10 - The Fever Came Back at Night
I had thought the worst part was over because someone finally believed me about the money. I was wrong. The cold was still inside me.
It started in my hands first. I was sitting up in the hospital bed drinking the apple juice the nurse had left, and the cup started shaking against my teeth. I tried to hold it still with both hands and couldn't. My teeth knocked together so hard it hurt my jaw. The woman — I still didn't know what to call her — looked up from the chair beside me and put her hand to my forehead.
"You're burning up," she said quietly.
I didn't feel hot. I felt like I was back outside. My gray sweater felt damp again even though the nurses had tried to dry it with warm towels. My jeans stuck to my legs. My sneakers were on the floor under the bed, laces still crusted with ice melt from the parking lot. I pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my chin and it didn't help.
She pressed the call button and didn't let go of my other hand. That was the thing I kept noticing. She held on like she was afraid if she let go I'd slide back out onto that road.
The nurse came in with a thermometer and then the doctor came in behind her, a tired man with his sleeves pushed up. He listened to my chest and frowned at the sound. He asked me how many fingers he was holding up and what day I thought it was. I got Thursday right but I had to think hard about it.
"Exposure catches up late," he told her, not me. "Fever's spiking. We need her quiet and warm tonight. No more questions. No visitors."
I heard the way he said it. It wasn't a suggestion.
"My family is out there," I whispered. My voice sounded scraped. "They're waiting."
"I know," the woman said. She tucked the hospital blanket tighter around my shoulders. Then she reached for the light-colored blanket on the foot of the bed, the fringed one from her SUV, and laid it over the top where I could touch it. "They can wait till morning. Doctor's orders."
A nurse brought another blanket from a warming machine. It smelled clean and hot. They wrapped it around my legs and put a blood pressure cuff on my arm that squeezed and released. The woman kept holding my hand through all of it. Her hand was warm and dry. Mine kept shaking inside hers.
"Try to sleep," she said. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere tonight."
I wanted to ask her about my mom at fourteen. I wanted to ask what she meant by gone. But my eyes kept closing on their own and my breathing went shallow and fast. The lights above the bed were too bright, fluorescent white that buzzed faintly. A nurse dimmed them until the room went blue-gray.
I dreamed of snow and headlights.
In the dream I was walking again on the snow-covered road, arms at my sides, snow getting in my hair. I could hear tires crunching slow behind me. Headlights washed over my back and threw my shadow long ahead of me on the white road. I turned around and the SUV was there with its door open and the light blanket hanging from the woman's arms, blowing in the wind. I tried to say I didn't take the money but my mouth wouldn't move because I was shivering too hard. She ran toward me but the snow kept getting deeper, up to my sneakers, up to my jeans, and her voice sounded far away.
I woke up gasping. The heart monitor beeped faster. The woman leaned forward immediately, both hands around mine now.
"Hey. Hey, you're here. You're in the hospital. You're warm," she said. "Breathe with me."
I tried to match her breathing. In. Out. The beeping slowed.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"Don't be," she said. "Go back to sleep."
Late in the night a nurse cracked the door to check on me and whispered something about people still in the waiting room. The woman shook her head without looking away from me.
"Not tonight," she whispered back. "He said no visitors."
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The door clicked shut again. The hallway light cut off. I turned on my side, facing her, and pulled the fringed edge of her blanket between my fingers. The fringe was soft from washing. I held onto it like a kid holds a sleeve.
The last thing I remembered was her thumb moving slow back and forth across the back of my hand, and the warm weight of the blankets finally starting to win.
