Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
She must have heard the distress in my voice because the humor disappeared from hers. “Let me find out. Hold on.” She whispered something to what had to be her manager or assistant before putting the phone back to her face after a few moments. “It says mid-abdomen, right lower abdomen, why? Are you okay? DO YOU HAVE APPENDICITIS?” she started to shout.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself.
“ORA, ARE YOU OKAY?”
“I’m fine, but my neighbor is sweating big-time and looks like he’s going to puke, and he’s clutching his stomach.” I paused. “He doesn’t have diarrhea.”
The boy made another choking sound I wasn’t totally sure was appendix-related and was more than likely caused by me talking about diarrhea again. I had enough nephews to know that as savage as they could be, they got shy about bodily functions sometimes. And the way he’d been talking to his dad a couple weeks ago, how he’d talked to me too, I had a feeling that maybe he was just shy in general.
“Oh thank God. I thought it was you.” She whistled in relief. “Take him to the emergency room if he looks that bad. Is he bloated?”
I pulled the phone away from my face just a little. “Do you feel bloated?”
Amos nodded before he let out another whimper and pressed his face closer to his knees.
Of course this would happen to me. I was going to get kicked out for talking to this kid, and I wouldn’t even be able to regret it.
“Yes. Say, Yuki, let me call you back. Thank you!”
“Call me back. Miss you. Good luck. Bye!” she said, hanging up immediately.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket with one hand, I put my free one on the boy’s knee and I gave it a single pat. “Look, I don’t know for sure, but it sounds like it might be your appendix. I don’t know though, but honestly, you don’t look well, and I think you’re in too much pain for it to be, I don’t know, something else.” Diarrhea. But I think he was fed up with me saying the D-word in front of him.
I was fairly positive he tried to nod, but he groaned in this way that had my armpits starting to sweat.
“Is your dad on his way?”
“He’s not answering.” He let out another grunt. “He’s at Navajo Lake today.”
I knew the lake wasn’t far from Pagosa, but service was sketchy all over Colorado, I was starting to learn. Is that why he thought his dad was on his way? “Okay. Is there someone else we can call? Your mom? Another parent? Family member? A neighbor? The ambulance?”
“My uncle—oh fuck.” He let out a cry that somehow went straight into my heart and brain.
I couldn’t hesitate anymore. This wasn’t good. My gut said so. The only thing I knew about appendix issues was that, if one ruptured, it could be deadly. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. But I wasn’t willing to screw around with his well-being.
Especially not when his dad wasn’t answering and couldn’t make an executive decision.
I stood up and then bent back over to slide my arm under his shoulder blades. “Okay, okay. I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re scaring me big-time. We can’t risk waiting around.”
“I don’t need to—oh fuck.”
“I’d rather take you and there’s nothing wrong than having your appendix rupture, okay?” I would rather his dad kick me out for communicating with him than this kid die or something else terrible.
Oh my God. He could die.
Okay. Time to go.
“Do you have a wallet? ID? An insurance card?”
“I’m okay. It’ll pa—fuck! Holy fuck,” he groaned long and deep, the length of his body tensing with a cry that took another bite out of me.
“I know. You’re fine, but come on anyway, okay? I don’t want your dad to see me trying to put you in my car while you fight me and think I’m trying to kidnap you. He’s not answering, so we can’t ask him what to do. I can try and call your uncle on the way, is that okay? You said something about calling your uncle, right?” I asked, tapping his shoulder. “You can’t die on me, Amos. I swear I won’t be able to live with myself if you do. You’re too young. You have too much left to live for. I’m not as young as you, but I’ve still got at least another forty years left in me. Please don’t let your dad kill me either.”
He tipped his head and looked at me with big, panicked eyes. “I’m going to die?” he whimpered.
“I don’t know! I don’t want you to! Let’s go to the hospital and make sure you don’t, okay?” I suggested, knowing I sounded hysterical and was probably scaring the shit out of him, but he was scaring the shit out of me, and I wasn’t as much of an adult as my birth certificate said I should be.