The Distance Between Us

didn’t think she knew my parents. She must’ve been keeping my secret this whole time.”
    “I just don’t know if I can ever trust you again. I’m angry.”
    “I understand. I hope you can, but I understand.”
    “And Xander. He’s not perfect but he was kind and treated me well and you didn’t even want to give him a chance. He’s not my dad. And I’m not you. I’m not going to get pregnant and run off.”
    She nods. “I know.” My mom grabs her stomach and takes a sharp breath.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing, I’m fine. I just need . . .” She stands, wobbles a bit, and then steadies herself against the wall.
    I stand as well. “You don’t look so good.”
    “I should go to bed.” She stumbles forward and catches herself on the back of my desk chair.
    “Mom. Something is wrong.”
    She grabs her stomach again and rushes out of my bedroom.
    I follow her straight into the bathroom, where she barely makes it in time to vomit in the sink. The sink is now bright red. “Mom! Is that blood?”
    She wipes at her mouth, smearing blood across her wrist. Then she coughs.
    “Has that ever happened before?”
    She shakes her head back and forth.
    “Okay, we’re going to the hospital. Now.”
     
    I pace the hall, waiting for the doctor to tell me what’s going on. I’ve been here for two hours. When he finally comes out I feel close to collapsing. He looks around and I’m wondering what he’s waiting for when he says, “Just you?”
    “Just me?” I don’t understand his question.
    “Is anyone else here with you?”
    “Oh. No. Just me.” I feel bad. Maybe I should’ve called Matthew. He should be here. He has a right to know. I make a vow to find his number and call him as soon as I’m done talking to the doctor. “Please, is my mom okay?”
    “She’s doing better. We’re running some tests, trying to rule some things out. We’ve given her something to help her sleep.”
    “And um . . .” I don’t know how to say it. “Is the baby okay?”
    “Baby?” His eyes get wide, and he looks at his clipboard. “Did she tell you she’s pregnant?”
    “No. I just thought it was a possibility.”
    “No. She’s not. But we’ll run a few more tests to verify.”
    I’m ashamed for the tiny bit of relief I feel. I’m not ashamed for long, though, because with that possibility almost completely off the table I realize that means something more serious is wrong with her. The worry that takes over doesn’t leave any room for shame. “Is she sick?” I choke out.
    “Yes, and we’re trying to figure out what’s causing it. We’ve ruled out some big things, so that’s good.” He pats my shoulder as if that will make what he’s saying feel better. “We’ll know something soon.”
    “Can I see her?”
    “She’s asleep and she needs to stay that way for now. I promise to call you as soon as she shows signs of waking.” He pauses and looks around again. “You really shouldn’t be alone right now.”
    But I am alone. My mother is all I have. “I don’t have a cell phone.”
    “What number would you like me to reach you at, then?”
    There had been many times in my life where I was upset that I didn’t have a cell phone like every other teenager I know. But now, wanting to just go sit in the waiting room and fall asleep on the outdated couch, is the only time I’ve felt I might die without one. Maybe I should go to Skye’s. But what if Skye isn’t there? And her house is ten minutes farther away than the shop. Being ten minutes farther away from the hospital is not an option. I give him the shop number and leave.
    I go immediately there and then upstairs, where I sit expectantly by the phone. This isn’t going to work. I need to keep my brain busy. There’s always something to do on the sales floor. In all my years of living at the doll store, I had never cleaned shelves at one o’clock in the morning. By the time I get to the front window, one wall’s worth of shelves is sparkling and I am sweating. I start on another wall. About halfway through the second shelf I find a name plaque without a doll. Carrie. I search the shelves, but she isn’t there. My mom must’ve sold her today and forgotten to put the name tag in the drawer for our next order.
    We didn’t need to order Carrie, though. She’s popular: I knew we had at least two backups of her. She’s a sleeping baby, a newborn, with a peaceful look on her face. Everyone loves her. Even I think she is pretty