Operation Beautiful

I wake up at around ten. The nurse came in a couple times to check Emmaleigh Em’s blood sugar, but when I tried to move off the bed she stopped me.

“It’s fine,” she whispered in the dim light. “I’ll just check from the other side. Don’t move, you two look so comfortable.” Her smile brightens up the darkness a little.

My arms are still around Emmaleigh, who’s wide awake and staring at me. “Have you been awake for a while?” I ask, embarrassed.

She shrugs lightly. “On and off. It’s really hard to sleep with this IV in.”

I nod and sit up, yawning and ruffling my hair. Odd, everyone said they’d be here today. Then the realization hits me. It’s Thursday. Thursday means school. I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and find a couple texts there. Spike says he’ll come by immediately after school and Matt says that in order to get Jessica to go to school she insisted he go as well.

I left my parents a message, the text says. They’ll probably come back this afternoon.

“Hey,” comes a sleepy voice. I look up to see Trevor opening the door and yawning. “What’s up?”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask.

Trevor shakes his head.

“Long night?” Emmaleigh asks. I try not to laugh.

“Haley had a bad dream,” Trevor explains. “And her mom went into the room to ‘help.’ Which only made things worse. So she called me.”

“So you guys made up?” I ask eagerly.

“Pretty much,” Trevor says with a smile. “Haley can be funny sometimes, worrying about simple things.”

“Like?” I ask, wondering if Haley told him how scared she was that Trevor would get tired of her.

Trevor looks at me seriously. His mouth opens and closes, as though he’s having trouble saying the words. “I, uh, I like her a lot. And that’s not going to change.”

I just nod. “I see.” So she did tell him. “So Haley will be getting more sleep now.”

“Yeah,” Trevor says. “Apparently she’s been getting better at controlling herself. She’s decided that if she starts screaming her mom can call me over, but if she doesn’t need me, she’ll just tell me about it later. She wants me to be her boyfriend and not her therapist.”

“That’s nice,” I say.

Trevor curls up on the couch. “Yeah. She said she’d try to visit later. We slept at, like, four, so her mom let us skip school. Anyway, I’m taking a nap.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Take the only seat in the room, why don’t you?”

“You’re already sitting on the bed” Trevor says, snuggling further into the couch and shutting his eyes. “Stupid.”

In the hour that passes, Trevor falls asleep and I lie back in the hospital bed next to Emmaleigh. I’m flitting in and out of consciousness when I hear Trevor’s phone go off.

“She’s here,” he says, standing up. He looks a little worried. “Emma, just to warn you, she may not make it inside, okay?”

Emma just nods. “That’s fine.” She shoots me a quizzical glance, but I just shrug. “It would be nice if you could explain,” she whispers.

“It would be nicer if Haley could explain,” I whisper back.

Haley’s face appears in the doorway. She looks around and then stops. “How are you feeling?” she calls over.

“Fine,” Em replies. “How are you?”

“Good.” Haley’s eyes start flitting around the room. “Okay, I’ll see you later, bye.” And her head disappears.

Trevor pokes his head in briefly. “I’m going to take her home,” he says. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll probably come back this afternoon or something. I’m still really tired.”

The next few hours go by slowly. At around eleven, Matt’s parents call. They just woke up from a party that lasted until the wee hours of the morning and got Matt’s message. They’ll be here around two-ish.

Emmaleigh gets the IV taken out, much to her happiness. Then, right before, lunch, it’s a training session.

I hold Emmaleigh’s hand as she learns how to make herself bleed with that pen. It’s called a lancet and comes with small, removable, needle-like attachments. You load a fresh needle and prime it, ensuring the spring is ready. When you press the button, the needle shoots in and out of your skin, leaving a small puncture. Then you have to squeeze the finger lightly to ensure enough blood has come out.

The device the blood goes on is the monitor. It has removable “strips” that you push into one end. The blood goes onto the strip and then the monitor measures the sugar count. Emmaleigh is fine with the squeezing, it’s the puncturing she has trouble with.

“Come on,” I say after her fourth time chickening out. “Let’s do it together.”

The doctor smiles and hands me an extra lancet and monitor. Together we prime and shoot the lancet (Emma with her eyes closed) squeeze the blood out onto the strip and wait for the monitor’s results. That first nurse was right. It doesn’t hurt horribly. It’s just a brief sharp sting and then nothing.

“120,” Emmaleigh says. “Is that normal?”

“You should try to stay within an 80 to 120 range,” the doctor tells her. “For a diabetic, the closer to 100 the better.”

“What’s yours?” Emmaleigh asks me.

“103,” I lie smoothly, turning the monitor off so the number “80” no longer lights up the screen.

The rest of the day just drags by. We watch movies, calm Mr. and Mrs. Hansen when they arrive, breathless and weary, at three o’clock, and talk to the gang when they arrive after school. Even Janice comes to say hello.

When it comes time for everyone to leave, we are faced with yet another conundrum. Mrs. Hansen says she will stay for sure, but she also wants me to stay.

“Why can’t I stay?” Jessica whines.

“Because,” Mr. Hansen explains simply. “Corey was here when they explained everything. We need to know what’s going on as well.”