“Okay, yeah, I see right here she came through ER. Y’all go right on down there and tell Stacey that I sent you, Joseph,” she said, ignoring Tennyson completely.
“Thanks, Raylene. I still remember that pumpkin bread you made me. I’m going to be needing some more come fall. It’s worth the extra weight,” he said, rubbing his flat belly and giving the desk clerk a charming smile that made Tennyson want to pinch him. Those smiles were for her.
“Oh, you. You ain’t got an inch of flab on you, sugar,” Raylene said with a wave of her hand.
Tennyson and Joseph pushed through a heavy swinging door that would take them into the bowels of the hospital. She looked over at him. “Laying it on thick, weren’t you?”
“Sometimes you got to use what the good Lord gave you to get what you need.”
Tennyson issued a chuckle. “Always been my motto.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
They ended up in a bustling ER where another nurse who also seemed to know Joseph, this one with a bigger chest and biceps that rippled, sent them upstairs to the intensive care unit. The halls were mostly empty after the hectic speed of the ER, and when the elevator opened and they started walking toward the ICU waiting room, it felt as if they were entering a tomb. A pall hung over this entire part of the hospital floor, and it was so thick it felt like Tennyson needed to wipe it from her skin.
She stopped in the doorway of the ICU waiting room and spied Melanie sitting alone on a couch, staring into the vacuum of space before her. Her hair, once bouncy, now hung on either side of her face as if defeated. She clasped her hands in her lap, turning them over each other in a kneading motion. Tennyson had never seen Melanie look so lost before.
The motion at the entrance drew Melanie’s attention. “Tennyson?”
“I’m going to grab some coffee, ’kay?” Joseph said in her ear, his tone implying he understood she needed privacy.
Melanie stood, still looking confused. “What are you doing here? Who’s that guy?”
Tennyson moved into the room. “I thought I should come check on you. And that’s Joseph. He’s . . . uh, a friend.”
“Oh well,” Melanie said, plucking at the dress she still wore. The conservative crepe dress with a floral pattern was now crumpled against Melanie’s newly beach-burnished skin. Her face, however, looked like curdled custard it was so pale and tired. “I, uh, I’m waiting to meet the doctor.”
“Where is everyone else?”
“Mother is in the chapel with her friend Margaret Ellison. Do you remember her? Big teeth? And Emma went home to get Noah. Kit’s still in Florida. Um, they don’t think . . . they . . .” Melanie started panting, her big brown eyes filling with tears. “What are you doing here? You . . . didn’t . . . you aren’t . . .”
“Why don’t we sit down. Okay? I think you should.” Tennyson gently took her arm.
“I can’t just sit. I need to do something,” she said, fidgeting her hands and staring at the opening to the waiting area. Tennyson glanced around the room. A woman sat with what looked to be her teenaged son, a blanket wrapped around her, weariness radiating from her eyes as she glanced their way and then turned her head. The stack of used coffee cups and worn books indicated the two had been here awhile.
“I know you do, but there’s nothing to do right now. Why don’t we sit and talk? Come on,” Tennyson said, leading Melanie to the far side of the room, which was still visible from the doorway but also away from the other occupants.
Melanie allowed Tennyson to lead her to a set of chairs.
For a few minutes they sat side by side. Then Melanie turned to Tennyson. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. I just felt like I should”—Tennyson turned over the palms resting on her knees—“check on you.”
Melanie looked at her strangely. It was as if she were studying her with the eye of a fashion photographer, deciding what light would be best, what position she should take. Finally, Melanie released a pent-up breath. “She’s going to die.”
“No. You don’t know that,” Tennyson said, her heart filling with anguish at the thought the world would lose Hillary. Sweet Hillary with her twinkling eyes and bouncing hair. Hillary with her uninhibited laugh and need to save baby birds and worms crossing hot pavement. It wasn’t fair. At all. “You don’t.”
“I could tell. You can see it in the doctor’s eyes.”
“What happened?”
Melanie sucked in a breath and exhaled. “Hilly knew something was wrong and called for Martha. Mother had the foresight to ask her to come stay with Hilly when she said she wasn’t feeling well. The doctor said it was cardiac arrest.” Melanie closed her eyes and pressed her gathered fingers against them.
“At least the ambulance got there fast. Maybe it was enough time,” Tennyson said, reaching over and pulling one of Melanie’s hands away. “Come on. Be positive.”
“Hilly’s not strong enough, Teeny. Her body just isn’t. It’s been through too many years of abuse. I’ve read everything there is to read about eating disorders. Cardiac arrest is a leading cause of death. They just deny and deny and deny their bodies nutrients, and then those bodies don’t work anymore. God, her body just doesn’t work.” Melanie wrapped her arms around her stomach and fell forward. Her face twisted in anguish, and bright blood appeared on her bottom lip. She’d chewed it until it bled.
Tennyson didn’t know what to do. Why had everyone left Melanie alone, assuming she could handle this situation by herself? Why did she have to be the one to talk to the doctor? Why did everyone else get a pass to deal with their own feelings but Melanie didn’t?
The thought pissed Tennyson off. Ever since she’d been back, she’d watched Melanie handle everything for everyone else.
Slowly, she began to rub Melanie’s back, the same way she’d done with Andrew when he’d been sick as a child. “It’s okay, Melly. It’s okay to be scared.”
Under her hand, Melanie stilled, her silent sobs abating. After a few more seconds, Melanie sat up and wiped her face. “Oh God. I am scared.”
Tennyson looked at her. “I am, too. All the time.”
“You’re not scared. You never have been.”
“Wrong. I . . . well, you know me, Melanie. I have to play it off. I have to put on a front.”
Melanie smiled at her then, a tremulous, wobbly smile. “You want to know a secret?”
She didn’t respond because she was fairly certain that secrets were the reason she and Melanie were no longer friends. That, and the fact that Tennyson had purposefully, albeit drunkenly, spilled the biggest secret of the Brevard family in front of hundreds of wedding guests. So that Melanie would offer up something using the word secret made her wary.
“I missed who I am with you,” Melanie whispered.
Tennyson felt something weird break apart in her chest at that confession. “Yeah? You miss getting detention and punished for sneaking out late?”
A tear slipped from Melanie’s brown eyes. “Yeah. We got in trouble a lot, but the thing is, I don’t like who I am much anymore. I’m older, fatter, and take more crap from people than I used to. I settle all the time and allow myself to be used, underappreciated, or whatever just so someone will pay attention to me. I am the doormat they walk across and wipe their crap on. I don’t have any true friends. Okay, a couple. But no one asks me to have cocktails or go on girls’ trips or be their ride or die. You know what I mean?”