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I yank my bag up, and throw it over my shoulder, wincing when the pain shoots down my arm. “Good, now, let’s go home. I can’t wait to tell my dad about how I outskated you and scored tonight.”
I leave Camden on the bench scrambling to get his gear together as I walk toward my parents.
“You did not!” Camden calls out after me, hurrying to catch up. “Wait up, Ria!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Damien
“I called her pediatrician today.” Gia sighs, placing her cell phone down on the nightstand and plugging it up before rolling over to her back in our king-size bed and staring up at the ceiling.
After Astria left for practice, we sat down and had a long discussion about her recent episodes. We talked through the different scenarios, and what we determined was that neither one of us felt comfortable brushing it off.
I put my phone down on the nightstand, mirroring her. I’d just been catching up on some highlights from last weekend’s games. When she’s done scrolling for the night, I am too. Pro marriage tip.
“What did he say?” I ask.
She rolls over to face me. She props her elbow up on the mattress and her chin in her hand. “We have an appointment tomorrow morning. He wants to do some blood work and set up a referral to a specialist.”
“That’s good, right? I’ll be here. We can all go to the appointment together.” Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief. We’re still mid-season and I wouldn’t miss this appointment for the world. Hockey included. When I told Astria that her health comes first, I meant it. That holds true for all of us. We’re a family unit.
Gia’s lips tremble. She chokes out a sob that takes me by surprise. “Hey, whoa, what’s with the tears? We don’t know anything yet. I thought getting an appointment was a good thing?”
I turn into her, and lift her chin with two of my fingers, bringing her eyes to meet mine in the dim light of the lamp.
She takes a deep breath in and then out heavily before continuing with an onslaught of words I wasn’t prepared for. “It’s just, I talked to the nurse, and she immediately put me through to the doctor’s personal cell phone. I normally have to wait three months for a well-check visit appointment. Tomorrow is soon. That’s emergent. It means he thinks there might be something wrong. What if there’s something wrong, Damien?”
I have similar concerns, but I don’t say that to her.
“If there’s something wrong, and that is still a definitive if, we’ll face whatever it is head-on. It’s no different than how we handle any other challenge, and we’ve had our share. Every time we’ve come out on the other side.” I try to reassure her. Tonight, the only thing we know is that our daughter is sleeping in her bed, in her room, just down the hall. She’s safe. She’s healthy.
She took a bath when we got home and drained the ice machine. That’s telling in itself. But for now, she’s sleeping. If she’s sleeping, she’s not hurting. She’s protected from whatever is hurting her.
Something is hurting my baby. Fuck. Keep it together, man. Keep it the fuck together.
“I Googled.” Gia blurts out her confession as if I were the priest himself, and she’s committed the worst of sins.
That explains the tears.
“Did my injury teach you nothing about using Google as a form of medical reference?” Every twitch, every pain, Gia attempted to diagnose using Doctor Google. Ninety-nine percent of the time, Google was wrong. Google does not have a medical degree, and anyone can publish anything on the internet and claim credibility.
“Nope. Google was certain that it’s a brain tumor.” Her eyes widen with horror as she voices the fears that I know have been eating away at her from the inside out all day.
She’s used to the things she loves being taken away from her at a moment’s notice. Her dad, her brother, even my accident. Now this. I won’t blame her for assuming the worst. I’m just glad she’s willing to confide in me.
“Gia, come here.” I move my hand to her hip and tug lightly, but she doesn’t budge.
She shakes her head back and forth, a turbulent look filling her big brown eyes. “I don’t want to. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. The last time I was this worried was…” She hiccups, and this time I grab her entire body in one swift move and pull her to me. I tuck her beneath my arms, and wrap my heavy thigh over hers, not allowing her room to escape. I spoon the hell out of her because I know exactly what she was going to say without her ever needing to say it.
I lean into her ear and whisper, “I know, baby. I know.” She cries softly in my arms. Her body shakes, and I hold her, absorbing her anxiety as my own and doing everything in my power to give her enough strength to get through whatever this is.
Last time she was the strong one. When I was in a hospital bed fighting for my life, she was the air that I needed to breathe. She was my oxygen, and Astria was my reason for fighting every damn day.
It’s my turn to be their rock.
She sniffles and says, “I’m so scared for her, Damien. She’s still a baby. She might act like she’s grown, but she’s not.”
I pull the sheet up around us tightly, like the thin piece of fabric will somehow cocoon us from our reality.
