Rearranging You

Xavier

My phone goes off at 6:32 in the morning with my ringtone insisting on playing ‘Mr Blue Sky’. Usually I wouldn’t mind, I picked the song after all, but when the rain can be heard from deep within my covers, it seems cruel for it to gloat so loudly.

I answer with my eyes still bleary from the lack of sleep and hear my sister, Lucy’s frantic voice from the other side.

“Mom... Heart... Hospital.” Are the only keywords that I’m able to pick out from her rushed sounds and I demand that she slow down before I lose my mind.

Lucy has never been one to deal well with emergencies, and it’s at times like this that I wish she never quit those improv classes my other sister Danielle had bought her. It might have made it easier for her to think on her feet right now rather than just panic.

“It’s Mom, I got a call... She’s in the Sacred Heart hospital and they think it’s her heart. I need you to get here now.” She finally gets out and instantly I’m wishing she can take it all back again.

Our mother is the glue to this family and has been as healthy as a horse for as long as we’ve known her. Just the idea of her being sick seems foreign to me and I check the calendar to ensure it’s not some sort of sick April Fools joke.

Nope, still June.

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” I call down the phone while already dragging a t-shirt over my head.

The sooner I get there the better, as Lucy won’t know any of the insurance information and Danielle is away on holiday with her husband. I can only imagine how much she’s freaking out right now and I just hope that she can keep it together long enough for me to get there.

With only 20 blocks from my place to the hospital, I don’t even bother calling a cab and run the full way. The entire time I can feel my heart inside my chest hammering away against my ribs and wonder if the same can be said for my mothers.

It’s stupid to think like that, I know, but I can’t help it. When I arrive, there will be no time for me to freak out as I’ll need to be the level-headed one for my family’s sake.

Thankfully it’s over before it can really begin and when the fear really starts to set in, the hospital comes into view and I’m already shutting it down. I have my father to thank for those coping mechanisms, where ever he is now. Hopefully hell.

Lucy is in the waiting room and jumps up from her seat the second she sees me. There’s an empty form left on the table attached to a clipboard and after I hold her for a minute, I pick it up to start the paperwork.

It’s boring, long-winded and exactly what I need to clear my head. There’s no way I’ll be able to overthink when I have national insurance numbers and bank details to remember.

“Xavier, do you think she’ll-” Lucy starts but the sobs prevent her from finishing.

For both of our sakes, I hope she was about to finish it with ‘get better’ or I’d prefer not to have to answer. There’s no other option but for her to get better and with only one side left to go, I’m hoping one of these nurses will be kind enough to give us an update soon.

The final question is about how long her policy is due to last which panics me for a second because I don’t actually know. This was done by Danielle back when they changed her insurance the other year and I pull out my phone to dial the number and check.

The hold music is terrible, it has no substance to it but a morbidly upbeat song, that is forced down the throats of people that what nothing more than to not be waiting here.

The long hand of the clock on the wall has almost done a full circle by the time and actual human answers, and I’m so shocked that I almost answer the same way Lucy had this morning. “Hi, yes I’m calling on behalf of Jeanne Knights.”

We spend the next 10 minutes answering security questions before the lovely lady on the other side promptly breaks my heart in two.

“I’m sorry sir, but it says here that her policy has expired.”

“It can’t have! It was renewed last year...” I’m on the verge of collapsing here.

“It doesn’t look like it, sir. We requested a final signature in the mail but never heard anything back.”

In the mail... Mail that will have gone to the family home none of us lives in anymore, the home my father was left with to sell and fund his alcohol addiction with, amongst other things.

Did he get it? Because if he did that’s unforgivable.

“Thank you for your time.” I hang up and wish for a second that I still owed a flip phone.

The snap of it closing would have relieved some of the pressure and instead, I can only think to crack my knuckles in its place. A nasty habit that my mom never approved of.

“What is it then?” Lucy asks from over my shoulder as she places down two cups of substandard coffee.

How can I tell my sweet, innocent little sister that our mother has no insurance, and therefore can receive no more treatment should it be needed?

None of us is very well off. We put every penny we had into getting an apartment for our mom to move away from our dad, and since then I’ve been trying to grow my contractor business (and failing terribly).

“Have they said if she’s awake yet?” I ask in a breaking voice.

“No, she’s still in surgery I think...What did they say?” Her bright blue eyes are filled with worry and with only a few words I have to watch them start to swim with tears.

We sit around there waiting for what feels like hours but must really be minutes. With this extra dose of bad news, I really need to clear my head and what better way than to try and run some more?

After confirming with Lucy that she doesn’t object too much, I take off towards the park across the street and break out into a sprint as if my life depends on it.

The puddles growing from the rain splash underfoot and the smell of the damp earth fills the air. Sweat is starting to break out across my back and I push myself harder to feel it more.

Endorphins are good but this grief is all-consuming.

Just when I’m about to turn a corner, I notice a woman bending down towards a bench, the kind you see left for memorials and such. I don't know why my eyes were drawn to her, but when I shift my attention back to the path ahead of me, I find the cyclist that is driving straight towards her.

He has his headphones in and appears to be messing with directions on his phone. He doesn't look to be slowing down at all and without thinking, I leap forwards and carry her out of the way.

“I’m so sorry, but he wasn’t looking where he was going,” I say while offering a hand to help her straighten herself back up again.

She’s older than I am, closer to my mothers’ age and is dressed quite nicely. I wouldn’t be surprised to see her heading towards the likes of wall street just now and I wonder for a second if I’m going to get shot for this.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”