C. Omololu - Intuition

Don’t know if I would brag about that.

“Who is it?” Rayne asks.

I glance over at Peter. He still talks to Griffon. “Nobody.”

You should know by now that I have many talents.

There’s a pause for a few moments. And then he texts again. I had fun on Friday.

I hesitate, not wanting to encourage something I can’t finish. Me too.

Do it again soon?

I glance up and realize we’ve stopped walking. Peter is nodding his head to the music from a band that’s on the stage, and Rayne is just looking at me. Maybe. GTG.

I slide the phone back in my pocket as we wander around the park looking at the booths full of tie-dye and pipes that are to be used for legal tobacco products only, if the signs posted are any indication.

We start down the hill toward another part of the festival with Peter leading the way, past the merry-go-round and through the playground back to the meadow. I look over and involuntarily glance up at the top of the cement slide that’s carved into the side of the hill. At the top of the slide was where my life changed forever—where Griffon first told me about being Ahket.

Rayne untangles her arm from Peter’s and reaches into her bag, catching my eye as I watch her. “Maybe . . . maybe that Advil . . . ,” she says, but her words sound thick and heavy. I lean over and look at her carefully. Her face is flushed, and I can see through her sunglasses that she’s squinting her eyes as if the light is hurting them. I start to say something to her about seeing a doctor when her bag slips off her shoulder. As she bends down to pick it up, she stumbles slightly, her body weaving as she tries to stand up straight.

“Rayne?” I say, taking a step toward her. “Are you okay?”

With immense effort, she turns to look at me, one hand pressing against her forehead. “I don’t—” she begins, but her knees buckle and in an instant she’s lying in a heap on the grass.

Peter drops to the ground beside her, cradling her head in his lap. “Rayne!” he calls. He rubs her cheek, but she just turns her head and moans, eyes shut tight and her jaw clenched against the pain.

“I’ll call 911!” I shout, watching her motionless on the ground. I fumble in my pocket for my phone.

“There are some paramedics in the parking lot,” a guy next to us says. “I’ll go get them. It’ll be faster.”

People around us start noticing Rayne on the ground and push back to give us some space. I kneel down by her head, not having a clue what to do.

“Come on, Rayne,” Peter says. “You’ll be okay. Just hang on, you’ll be okay.” He repeats that over and over again like a chant as he holds her hand, one thumb rubbing her fingers. “You’ll be okay.”

It seems like forever, but finally two men in uniform push through the crowd carrying big medical boxes. “Out of the way!” they shout. “Give us room.” They bend down, feeling for her pulse and checking her eyes. “Who’s with this girl?” the blond one asks.

“We are,” Peter says. “Is she going to be okay?”

The other guy speaks into a radio that’s hanging at his shoulder, calling for the ambulance.

“What’s she on?” he asks. “What did she take?”

I stare at him. They think she OD’d. “Nothing! She didn’t take anything!”

He glances over and I know that he doesn’t believe me. “Her pupils are huge. The best way to help your friend is to tell us what she took.”

I lean in closer to him. “I’m telling you, she didn’t take anything! Do something! Don’t just sit there!”

Peter puts his arm around me, as much to hold me back as for comfort, I imagine. “Cole’s right. One second she was fine, the next she was on the ground.”

I glance from him to the paramedic, who nods, although I still don’t know if he believes us. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. “She said she had a headache,” I say, “and she was really hot.”

He reaches for a syringe just as Rayne’s eyes roll into the back of her head. Her fists clench and her legs jerk as her body arches up in a tremor. “She’s posturing!” he shouts to the other guy. “Where’s that ambulance? We need to get her out of here now!”

We stand there watching helplessly as waves of convulsions take over her body until they load her into the ambulance, slamming the doors as they speed out of the park.

We call Rayne’s mom on the way to the car, and by the time we get to the hospital she’s standing in the waiting room, looking lost. Her eyes are red and frantic, so I walk over and give her a hug. She holds me tight, and I know she’s giving me what she’d rather be giving Rayne right now. “They asked me to leave the room,” she says. “They’re going to have to intubate her, and they don’t want me in there.” She looks at me and tears well up in her eyes. “She’s not even breathing on her own. What happened?”

I squeeze her hand. “I don’t know. She said she wasn’t feeling well, and then she just collapsed on the ground.”

“They said she might be on drugs. Did she take anything? You have to be honest with me.”

“She’s not on anything, I promise,” Peter says. “Cole tried to give her an Advil and she didn’t even want that. You know how she is.”

“I know,” her mom sniffs. “I’m so glad you two were with her.” She puts one hand to her mouth. “I can’t imagine what would have happened if she’d been alone.”

“It just looks bad,” I say. “She’s going to get through this just fine.” I say that to convince all of us, because any other outcome is inconceivable. “Where’s Sienna?” Rayne’s sister should be here instead of me.

Rayne’s mom looks up, momentarily confused. “I . . . um . . . I think she’s at work. I should call her.”

“I’ll do it if you want me to,” I say.

She glances at the commotion in the emergency room. “No, I will. She should hear it from me.”

Before she can move, a nurse pokes her head out of the emergency room. “Mrs. Foreman? Your daughter is stable for now. We’re going to transfer her up to the ICU. You’re welcome to come up, but I’m afraid everyone else will have to stay in the waiting room. We have to limit visitors, at least for tonight.”

We walk to the doorway as her mom looks at us with panic in her eyes. “ICU. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Peter puts a hand on her arm. “It’s the best place for her right now. She’s going to be okay.”

The curtains are pulled back, and through the team of doctors and nurses that surround her, I can see Rayne lying flat on the rolling bed, a tube down her throat and tape on her mouth as one nurse squeezes a bag every few seconds to help her breathe. One hand pokes through the railing they’ve put up around the mattress, and more than anything I want to grab it, to give the fingers with the chipped blue nail polish a reassuring squeeze, but before I can make a move, they’re halfway down the hall.

Rayne’s mom hesitates for just a second. “Where are all of her things? Her purse, her phone? She never goes anywhere without her phone.”

“I’ve got everything,” I say. “Go with her. I’ll bring her stuff home and you can get it later.”

“Thanks,” her mom says, tears shining in her eyes as she turns to follow the crowd of people toward the elevator.

I hold the soft edge of Mum’s sari in my fingers and feel a flood of emotions that aren’t mine. Sadness, definitely. That’s to be expected, even though I’ve told her over and over again that I’ll be okay. I’m ready to go. I put one hand up to her face, my fingers exploring her mouth as it turns down in the corners and the dampness her tears leave in the corners of her eyes. She sits completely still and lets me.

“Mummy, don’t be sad. You’ll make it harder.”

I can hear her sniff, even though she’s trying to cover it up. “I know. You’re going to have a wonderful time in England and learn so many things. I’m just going to miss you.”

“Me too,” I say. “I’ll be home soon, though.” There’s something else—excitement, an undercurrent that’s almost giddy. I can tell she’s trying to suppress it, but it’s there just as clearly as if I can see it with my own eyes. I hesitate, then lean into her before whispering, “I know you have a secret.”

Mum pulls her hand out of mine and I feel her move a small distance away. “Secret? I don’t have a secret.”

I turn my face in the direction of her voice. “You do. I can feel it.”

I hear her gasp. “How can you possibly feel it? The baby is still so small—it will be many more months before it is born.”

Baby. Mummy is going to have another baby. That’s the secret she’s been keeping. Daddy too. I pretend like I knew this all along. “I just can,” I say, as mysteriously as possible.

“No secret is safe around you lately.” Even though she doesn’t say it out loud, I know what she means. Now that my eyes are gone, everything else has been pushed into vivid focus. Sounds are louder, touch is more sensitive. And that small voice we all carry inside is much more insistent.

“Isn’t that as it should be?” I smile at her. “And soon you will have a new baby, so you will not miss me as much.”

Mum presses me to her chest. Even though all I see is blackness, I inhale the familiar powdery scent and feel her heart beating through her sari. “I will always miss you just as much,” she says, and even without listening to the voice inside, I know she means every word.

I blink in the darkness, and for a second I can’t tell whether my eyes are open or not, just like in the dream. Lying still, I let my mind wander over what I’ve just seen and realize that it wasn’t a dream, it was another memory.