Better Than Perfect Read Online Free PDF Page B

soon as she’s ready. If you could come with me, I’ll get the insurance information I need.” She nodded toward the door.
    My father rubbed the side of his face as if he had a headache, then realized Ms. Phillips couldn’t get past him. “Sorry,” he said, and he opened the door and held it politely for Ms. Phillips and me to pass through.
    In the hallway, Ms. Phillips started to head back the way we had come, but I said, “Wait.” She turned around.
    â€œI want to see her.”
    My father and Ms. Phillips were both looking at me. My father spoke first. “Juliet, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
    I kept my eyes on Ms. Phillips. I knew if I looked at my dad, I’d lose my courage. “I want to see her.”
    â€œI understand,” said Ms. Phillips. She put her hand on my arm again, and I had the crazy urge to ask if she would let me go home with her.
    I followed Ms. Phillips back into the waiting area, through an enormous set of double doors, and down a wide corridor. There were empty stretchers and gurneys up against the walls, and I wondered if one of them was the one my mom had come in on.
    I’d assumed Ms. Phillips was taking me to a hospital room,but she led me through another, smaller set of double doors, which opened up onto a space bigger than the waiting room. There was a central island with doctors and nurses in it, and all around the outer wall were beds, some of which were curtained off. A symphony of rhythmic beeps filled the space. An older man was on a bed directly in front of me with two elderly women, one on either side of him. One of the women was crying; the other was rocking slightly. I wondered what was wrong with him, and then one of the women turned slightly and saw me watching them. I looked away, embarrassed to have been caught spying.
    Ms. Phillips led me around to the right of the island. When we got to an area where the curtains were closed, she stopped walking.
    â€œShe’s in here,” said Ms. Phillips. “Why don’t I come in with you?”
    It wasn’t until she offered to stay with me that I realized how scared I was to see my mother alone, which was almost worse than anything else that had happened that day.
    â€œShe’ll probably be asleep,” said Ms. Phillips. “But if she isn’t, we’ll just stay a minute and then come on out. Her throat’s probably sore from when they pumped her stomach, so it will be hard for her to talk.”
    I stepped through the curtain behind Ms. Phillips, picturing as I did what it meant to pump somebody’s stomach. My own stomach clenched in sympathy.
    My mother was lying on the bed, propped up slightly on two pillows. They must have taken off her T-shirt, because she was in a hospital gown under some blankets. There was a hairnet over her hair, but a few strands had come out, and they were spread out over the pillow like my mom had put her finger in an electrical outlet. She was asleep, and I watched her chest rise up and down slowly. By the fourth breath I realized I was breathing with her, almost as if she couldn’t do it on her own.
    Almost as if I was afraid she didn’t want to do it on her own.
    I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Ms. Phillips put her hand on my shoulder. “We should go, honey.”
    I nodded, my throat too thick to try to talk. My mom’s arms lay along her sides, and on the wrist nearest me I saw a hospital bracelet and a ring of dark blue fabric, almost like a ribbon but thicker and closed with what looked like Velcro. I looked at the other wrist, and there was one there also.
    â€œWhat are those?” I asked, pointing at the blue fabric and clearing my throat. But even before Ms. Phillips answered me, I knew exactly what they were. They were restraints. My mother was literally tied to her bed.
    Ms. Phillips put her hand on mine and gave it a little squeeze. “Those are so she