True Love (38 page)

And the worst part of all is that everybody’s conspiring against me to make me go home! I don’t want to go home! Don’t they understand? If I leave the school now, I’ll never get asked back! This isn’t fair. I’ve wanted this all my life and now it’s going to be snatched away all because of a little fainting spell I had during class. I CAN’T STAND IT!!!!!!

TO:
All Concerned

Subject:
Melinda

I’ve created a special address heading—All Concerned—to keep everyone in our circle of family and friends updated about Melinda, and either I or Elana will give you information. PLEASE DON’T CALL THE HOSPITAL. We flew home with Melinda yesterday and checked her into Emory University Hospital, where she’ll undergo tests for the next few days. She’s running a fever, but she doesn’t seem to have an illness—baffling. At the least, she’s very anemic.

Elana is blaming herself for not catching Melinda’s weight loss, bruising and excessive tiredness before Melinda took off to Washington. But our girl’s never had a sick day in her life beyond those due to the common cold, so why should we have been suspicious?

We have great confidence in her doctors, especially her hematologist, Dr. Jan Powell, who we’ve been assured is one of the best in her field.

Melinda, Elana and I appreciate your prayers and thoughts, and as soon as we know what’s going on, we’ll let you know. In the meantime, keep praying.

Lenny

“Hi … is this really you, Melinda?”

“Bailey? Where are you?”

“The lobby. They won’t let me upstairs to see you.”

“Mom’s turned into a real watchdog. She told the nurses’ desk not to let anyone in. She’s down in the cafeteria having dinner or she’d never have let me take this call.”

“That’s so mean!”

“She’s not being mean, Bailey. She’s just being Mom. It’s good to hear your voice.…”

“Now don’t start crying, or I will too. Can you tell me what’s going on? I haven’t got long to talk.”

“How did you get here anyway?”

“Pete drove me. Now, tell me, what’s happening?”

“I—I feel like a pincushion. They’ve drawn blood about a hundred times and sent me down for a CT scan—”

“A what?”

“It’s a test—a full-body X ray.”

“Oh. Did it hurt?”

“No … but
all
the needle sticks are awful!”

“When can you come home?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your mom asked me to take temporary custody of Zorita. She’s being a good cat but she misses you.”

“I miss her too. I miss everybody. Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“E-mail Jesse. He’s probably not on Dad’s e-mail list. Jesse still thinks I’m in Washington.”

“I’ll e-mail him today. Now, don’t cry or your
mom will pump you and you’ll have to confess that I came here and talked to you. And my parents will
kill
me if they think I got into a car with Pete without their permission.”

“Thanks for taking the chance, Bailey.”

“Don’t you know? ‘Chance’ is my middle name. I really want to see you.”

“I’ll beg Mom to bring you next time she comes. Maybe we’ll know something by then. And … and thanks for telling Jesse for me.”

TO:
All Concerned

Subject:
Tests

I’m letting those of you we love know all that is happening. They took Melinda down for a bone marrow aspiration today. I stood by her bed holding her hand while they told her about the procedure. It’s horrible! They stick a long needle into her lower back between her vertebrae while she’s curled into a fetal position. She’ll only have a local anesthetic to numb the skin and she has to lie stone-still. One of the nurses said that Melinda could hold her hands and squeeze as hard as she wanted. She said that Melinda could yell or cry—anything except move. I
begged them to let me go along, but Melinda wouldn’t have any of it. She looked at me and said, “Mom, I’m not a baby.” I watched them roll her away while I cried. Doesn’t she know? She’s MY baby. Please keep praying. We don’t know what else to do but wait and hope.

Elana

TO:
Jesse Rose

Subject:
Melinda

Hi—

This is Bailey, Melinda’s friend. Remember me? Well, it doesn’t matter. What does is this: I’m writing you because Melinda asked me to. She’s in the hospital. Now, don’t freak. We still don’t know too much about what’s wrong with her. It’s got something to do with her blood, because that’s what they keep testing. Here’s what happened. She fainted in ballet class in D.C. and got rushed to a hospital. Her mother went to Washington and flew back with her to Atlanta, where Melinda got checked into another hospital.
There she lies until the doctors figure out what’s wrong. I’ve talked to her and she sounded scared. Just as soon as I know something, I’ll e-mail you—you can contact me anytime. The important thing is that we help Melinda get through this really bad time, because we’re her two best friends in the whole world. That’s what she told me once.

Bailey

M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY

July 11