Invidia

TWO

   “What’s going on? Is she alright?”

   “We don’t know what’s wrong,” Justin answered. “She’s had her proper dosage of oxygen for the day, so we don’t know why she’d be shaking like this. She was fine and then after we got back from school, she started feeling bad and then a few minutes before I texted you, she collapsed. She’s been laying here on the floor ever since,” he gestured. Cameron’s heart was hurting for Carly. When Cameron and Justin had met in the third grade, Carly was nine, and she’d been close with them too. He knelt down on the floor beside her and held her hand—it was ice cold.

   “Does she have any other kinds of health problems?” Cameron asked. He didn’t know a whole lot about this sort of thing, but he knew enough that maybe he could help his friend figure out what was wrong with his little sister.

   “Not that I know of,” Justin said, sighing and sitting on the couch. The exhaustion was obvious on his face, and I broke Cameron inside because he didn’t know how to help.

   “Do I need to call an ambulance?” Cameron asked. It was the only thing he could think of to help Justin. "Carly is also like a little sister to me. I can’t just watch her like this. It’s breaking my heart.” Justin just sighed, and he knew that he was agreeing, even if unwillingly. Cameron took his HoloComm off his neck, dialed 911 and said he needed an ambulance, told them the address and his name, and they said they’d be there shortly.

   Frank promised he’d do his best to convince his stepfather to allow him to stay at the hospital for a while, so Cameron ran back inside to help out the siblings again.

   “Hey, where’s your mom?” Cameron asked Justin, and Justin’s face fell even further.

   Justin answered deliriously, “She’s been working at all hours lately. I haven’t been able to get her on the phone. I don’t know if she’s in trouble or worse. I’ve been kind of freaking out for the past few days.” He spoke completely distantly, unable to make eye contact.

   “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you try and find her,” he said.

   “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ve already got a lot going on right now,” Justin just said, holding his head in his hands. Carly cried out then, her shrill shriek piercing the foundations in the walls. Justin ran over to her and held her, consoling her. Cameron didn’t know what else he could do for them other than keep an eye out for the ambulance, which was coming up the street now. Carly looked deathly pale.

   As the screeching of the sirens was growing ever nearer, Justin’s eyes grew less worried. The ambulance pulled into the driveway, and Cameron went out to meet them.

   “Is this the correct residence for the call from Mr. Richards?” an EMT with startling dark features asked.

   “Yes. It’s my best friend’s sister, Carly Morrison,” Cameron answered, leading them inside to where she was sprawled out on the floor. “This way.” The two EMTs grabbed the gurney and brought it in together to where Carly was.

   “Am I allowed to ride with you all to the hospital?” Justin asked frantically.

   “Are you an immediate family member?” The other EMT, the blonde one, asked.

Justin’s voice cracked, still distant, as he said, “Y-yes. I’m her older brother.”

   “Then, yes. You are allowed to ride with us. Are there any parents or guardians present?” the blonde EMT asked.

   Cameron jumped in and said, “Their father is no longer involved in their family, and we haven’t been able to contact their mother yet. I am his best friend, and stepson of President Hendrickson—Cameron Richards. I can probably answer most of these questions.” This was one of the only situations in which he would choose to name drop being Hendrickson's son.

   “I’m sorry, but only next of kin are allowed to answer the specific questions. If we have any general questions, we will be sure to come to you, but we may not. I appreciate the concern,” the darker-featured EMT asked. They both huddled around Carly and started taking her vitals quickly, neither seeming particularly worried. That was a good sign, right? Cameron thought to himself. The EMT spoke again, this time to Carly, and said, “Hi, can you hear me?” He asked with a gentleness that didn’t reach his eyes, and she gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “Your name is Carly, right?” She nodded again, with slightly more strength. “Good. My name is Tim,” the darker-featured EMT introduced himself. “My partner here is Brian. We’re going to get you all taken care of, okay?” She nodded a last time, and Tim turned to Brian and said, “Let’s get her into the ambulance now.”

   “Thank you, sir. We will be doing our best to follow closely behind, and by the way, I think Justin might be going into shock a little,” he pointed at Justin.. When Justin was seated, the two EMTs closed the doors and began strapping things to Carly that he assumed were necessary before arrival at the hospital. He knew Carly was about to be in much better hands, yet he couldn’t shake the goosebumps Tim gave him off the back of his neck. Cameron said he’d ride with Frank and meet them at the hospital.

   The whole ride there was petrifying—the sirens blaring the whole way there, the heaviness that seemed to run awry during times like this coursing uncontrolled through the air, the terror. It was times like this that reminded Cameron who was in charge, and it wasn’t anyone in either of these cars. It wasn’t his mother or his father. It wasn’t even his stepfather. It was the one thing that this world was running dearly low on—oxygen. It was gold in this world, and that’s what truly controlled it.

   “I called your stepfather,” Frank interrupted. “He gave permission for you to stay for an extra hour or two, but he said you have to be home tonight.” Frank must’ve seen the fire and fury spark in his eyes because he said, “I’m sorry, kiddo. I tried to convince him, but you know Mr. Hendrickson is a stubborn man.”

   “I know. Thank you, Frank,” he said.

   The blaring lights surrounding the nearing hospital drew Cameron into the night his mom died. All he could see then was her lifeless body being whisked away on a gurney with her chocolate brown hair draped over the railing. He was in a frenzy because the doctors wouldn’t let him down to see her yet, not until they’d revived her, they told him. He knew that was the last image he’d ever see of his mother because once people started suffocating, they were never able to be revived. Most of the time because the doctors didn’t even try.

   “Do you know what wing of the hospital she’s in?” Frank asked, breaking Cameron of his flashback.

   “No, but I’m sure she’s in the ER with the state she was in,” he answered. He told Frank to just park anywhere and he’d find his way, so he ran into the hospital doors and followed the signs until he found the ones labeled Emergency Room.

   “Hi, I’m looking for a couple of kids, one about my age, the girl a few years younger. The name is Morrison—Carly Morrison,” he frantically told the nurse behind the desk.

   She typed some things on her HoloComm until she found the name and said, “Yes, I see. She was admitted to Room 314, but she’s not allowed any visitors except immediate family. May I see some identification?” Cameron pulled up his identification certificate off his HoloComm.

   “Oh, my apologies, sir. I understand who you are now. You may visit her any time you like,” she said and guided him in the right direction. He muttered a “thank you” and headed for the elevator up to the third floor. It took about a minute, but Cameron practically ran into the wood-clad elevator and pressed the button that read ‘three’ as fast as he could. It took about another minute to reach the third floor, and another lady at the desk started to approach him at first, but then she recognized him and went back to playing games on her HoloComm.

   The never-ending hallway was blinding with the stark hospital light and the harsh reality that lay within its walls. It was a symbol of what a hospital really is—a beacon of fake light that’s pitifully masked by a false sense of hope. The nurses in scrubs that were practicing their bedside manner, knowing at any second that they might be delivering bad news, the tubes running from the patients’ bodies that never failed to leave a permanent scar on both the patients and their families, and the smell of bleach that always made people remember that they were in a bad situation, desperate to get away.

   “Cameron!” Justin yelled from the room he just passed by. “In here!” He backtracked and entered the room with the blinds, green window seat, and Carly in a hospital bed, sleeping.

   “How is she?” He asked quietly, not wanting to disturb her, despite Justin yelling a second before.

   “She’s about the same. They gave her some medicine to help her sleep while they ran tests. They took some blood, took a few other samples, did as many tests as they deemed necessary. I haven’t heard back yet,” Justin answered, holding his sister’s hand. Cameron just went and sat on the window seat beside him.

   “I know everything is going to be okay, Justin. Carly is one stubborn girl, and that kind of thing always helps in these situations—trust me,” he said, remembering his mother’s own fierce stubbornness. “My mother was the same way. She’d always make sure that she’d get exactly what she wanted to get—nothing more, nothing less. I see that same ferocity in Carly, and that will help her get through this.” Cameron saw Justin take a deep breath, and he knew his words were helping.

   Justin said, “Trust me, I know she’s stubborn. It was always a pain in my ass when we were younger, but I’m glad it’s able to help her now. There was one day when she was three years old and sat on the toilet for an hour and a half  because she refused to flush the toilet. My mom had reminded her to flush it when she was done, but she refused to just because my mom told her to, so she legitimately sat there for three hours. I don’t know what she did or was thinking about for that time, but apparently she was thinking about something.”

   Cameron chuckled and said, “My mom was the same way. She always used to tell me that when she was a little girl, her father would try and brush her hair when she didn’t want him to, but she couldn’t do it on her own yet—she was too young. But she was damn determined to do it on her own. Apparently, the first time she ever did it, she got the brush stuck in her hair so bad they had to cut it out.” Justin laughed, and Cameron couldn’t help but be happy to see Justin laugh.

   “That sounds like something Carly would do,” he said. As he was saying that, a nurse walked into the room—a blonde woman with a clean, kind face in pink scrubs.

   “Yeah, my mom said that was the summer she wore hats all the time,” he finished with a chuckle.

   “I’m glad to see you have someone here now who is able to make you smile, Mr. Morrison,” she said sweetly, bringing her clipboard up to her eyesight. “Good evening, my name is Cheryl. I thought you would like to know that we’ve gotten some test results back.” Justin stood up promptly and told her that he certainly wanted to know. “Well, thankfully, her asthma and COPD tests came back negative, but we weren’t expecting those to be positive. They’re just standardized tests we have to run nowadays. We did, however, find the root of her problem.” At that point, Cameron stood up and took his place beside his friend.

   “And what is it?” Justin asked slowly. Cameron could tell his friend didn’t know if he wanted the answer or not.

   “She has been diagnosed with iron-deficiency anemia,” she said. “It’s also something that has become quite rare in recent years, but it’s not as rare as the others. I’m sorry to tell you that’s not a great sign, but there is hope. She will need to be given more than the regular dosage of oxygen every day. If she isn’t given more, her body will not be able to carry as much oxygen to the blood. We still don’t know how much more she needs to be given every day. We are working now on figuring out how much more she needs to be given. Once we receive those, I promise to let you know as soon as possible.” Justin’s face was dropping more and more with every sentence Cheryl spoke, and eventually, he sank down into the window seat.

   “Thank you,” Cameron answered for him, and Cheryl left after checking Carly’s vitals.

   “Oh, we’re in such deep shit,” Justin moaned, putting his head in his hands. Cameron sat down once again beside his best friend. “We can’t afford this.”

   “Justin,” he said, and Justin picked his head up. “I want to help you. Carly is just as much my family as yours. My stepfather isn’t good for much, but he gives me money. I want to help with Carly’s oxygen.”

Justin smiled sadly and replied, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Oh, stop acting like a typical man in an action movie,” he joked, playfully punching him in the arm. “I just said I want to help, so please let me?”

   Justin just smiled again and asked, “Don’t you need to get home? I thought your stepfather said an extra hour or two.”

   “Yeah, well, he can go screw himself,” Cameron said fiercely. “I’m nearly an adult. He has to stop controlling me eventually. Plus, I’m here with a friend whose sister is in the hospital and just got bad news. That’s more important to me than anything he can do to me.”

   “I appreciate that,” Justin said, “but I can’t allow that. I couldn’t live with myself if you show up to school tomorrow with a black eye because of me.” Cameron just shrugged, but he continued, “I’m serious. Go home. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you if anything changes. I promise.”

   Cameron nodded and bode his goodbyes to both Justin and Carly. He knew that his best friend wanted him to go home, but Cameron was actually terrified. He was an hour past the time allotted to stay with them, and he knew the ‘pathetic little acorn,’ as Justin refers to him, would have a few things to say about it. He silently wished Frank would never take him home—that Frank would just adopt him, and they could live somewhere together.

   Walking down that same never-ending hallway with the same nurse who’d ignored him when she realized who he was, he was realizing how repetitive his life was. He lived his life in submission of his stepfather or to escape the shitty world where a fifteen-year-old girl couldn’t hardly get the treatment she needed for an ailment she couldn’t control. He wanted to change this world. He made a vow to himself that he would end the exploitation of power that his stepfather so eagerly utilized. He would end the oxygen shortage. He would save this world in a way no one else had yet. Because even though he had no idea how the hell he was going to manage that, he’d find a way.

   With that promise in the forefront of his mind, he found himself able to face his stepfather.

*****

   When he got home, it was probably a quarter to one A.M. He found the light in his stepfather’s office still on, and he tried to sneak past. Despite the newfound rebellion brewing in his chest, he still didn’t want to take the beating if he could avoid it.

   “Cameron, is that you?” He heard the President call from behind a closed door.

   “Y-yes sir. It’s me,” he answered.

   “Come here,” he commanded, and Cameron went in instantly. The last thing he wanted to do was keep him waiting when he’d already broken curfew.

   “Yes, sir?” he asked.

   “Sit down,” the president instructed, and Cameron did so. “I have something to inquire of you.”

   “And what is that, sir?” He said shakily. He knew that it was coming. Why did he think he’d be able to avoid it?

   The president’s eyes looked very heavy and dark, like he hadn’t been sleeping for weeks. “I wanted to ask you what you want done about something your mother left for you in her will. It seems even I can’t get you taken out of her will.” That made his head spin. He did not expect those words to be the ones he said to his stepfather’s mouth.

   My mother left something for me? He asked himself with a tear creeping into his eye. “What did she leave?” He asked. It hadn't even crossed his mind that his mother's will was supposedly lost.

   “She left you a note and a box of something which belonged to your father. Since it wasn’t left to me, I wasn’t allowed to inspect it,” he said. Cameron could sense how pissed about that his stepfather was. He reached under the desk and grabbed something about the size of a shoebox and handed it to Cameron. “You’re welcome to open it in here,” his stepfather said, making it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.

   Taking the letter carefully in his hands and opening it with a letter-opener his stepfather handed him, he began to read the last words his mother would ever say to him.

   Cameron,

   My beautiful boy. I know if you are reading this, your heart is probably breaking with a million different emotions. I am always watching over you, and I am so proud of the man you’re becoming. I’m sorry I can’t be there for your eighteenth birthday, or any birthdays after that. Just remember that I’m watching from above. I’ll always have my hand on your shoulder in pride. You’re growing up to become a wonderful young man. You remind me so much of your father, and I know he’s proud of you too. I know he died not long after your birth, so you didn’t know him very well, but that’s why I’m giving this to you. It’s a diary of his that he wrote in every single day about how wonderful you were. I hope it grants you some peace and closure that I know you need. Just remember that we both love you. We are both so, so proud of who you’re becoming, and we will be waiting for you on the other side. I love you, Cameron. I always will.

Love,

Mom

   When Cameron finished reading the letter his mom had written him, that tear that had been creeping down his cheek broke into a full waterfall. His mom hadn’t been gone long, so the grief was still fresh. Some days were easier, some days were like this—the bittersweet, wonderful moments that make him remember his mother that never fail to rip his heart into shreds.

   “What did she leave you?” His stepfather demanded, and Cameron had completely forgotten he was even there.

   “It’s nothing of importance to you, sir,” he said. “It’s just an old diary of my father’s.” The president didn’t seem convinced. Of what, Cameron didn’t know.

   “Go, now,” he instructed again, “and get a hold of yourself.”

   Cameron scurried off to his room with the letter tucked in the folds of his coat pocket, where he was never letting go to either one of his parents. He stuck it under his pillow for safekeeping, where it would always be there to keep him safe. He cuddled up in his blankets, feeling safe in his room for the first time in a very long time, he checked in with Justin. Everything alright there? I just got home. He pressed send on the hologram, and within moments, he’d gotten a reply. Not really. They told me they have to up her dosage 10% from the normal. You sure you still wanna take care of it? You don’t have to. He replied, Yeah, of course I do. I’ve always got you, bro. He waited a moment for Justin’s next reply, which was longer and read, Thank you. It really does mean a lot. I hope that he didn’t beat you for staying out. I couldn’t stand it if he did. Promise me you’ll tell me if he did anything to you, alright? I want the truth. Cameron sighed and answered, Actually, it was nice. Despite him being pissed off about it, he did a nice thing for me for once. He gave me a letter that my mother had written to me before she died, along with something she left in her will. I really didn’t expect him to do that, but he did. Justin answered, Huh, alright then. I believe you. But if you show up tomorrow with a black eye or a broken nose, Cam, I’m gonna kill you lol. Cameron laughed and replied, You won’t be murdering me tomorrow lol. It’ll be good. If you need anything, call me. I’m going to bed now if you’re good. Justin said he was, so Cameron locked his HoloComm and put it on to charge before pulling the blankets up and going to sleep.

*****

   After he’d finally fallen asleep, those whimpers and screams crept back into his subconscious, swallowing him in panic. He kept dreaming about being taken from his father. He’d only seen photos in real life of his father, and he resembled him a lot. His father, Garrick, had passed away at the young age of 27 years old. His mother had never told him the story, but just that it had been brutal.

   In this dream, his father had been standing over him in his crib. He looked huge in Cameron’s eyes, but Cameron felt safe with the love he could see in his father’s eyes. His stepfather had never looked at him like that—with that contempt, that feeling that everything is going to be okay. That’s how Garrick looked at him, but then something changed. Cameron, from down in a crib, could hear someone screaming—a woman—from the far side of the house. His father’s head spun around just in time to see Cameron’s mother standing there.

   “Garrick! You have to leave! Now! He’s coming for you!” She screamed.

   “I’m not leaving you, Christy! I’m not abandoning my family just because he’s after me!” His father wailed.

   And then the banging started.

   On the walls, on the door, the windows, everywhere. It sounded like people were trying to rip the house apart, and Cameron found himself screaming. He didn’t know why or what he was screaming about, but he was screaming. The banging only escalated, growing in power.

   “Garrick Richards!” Someone shouted from outside the house. “Come out now, or we will be forced to take down the door! We will not harm your family if you come quietly!”

   “How do I know that?” His father shouted in reply.

   “You have our word! We will not harm your wife or your son!” The man yelled again.

   “Oh, your word? How do I know I can trust that?”

   “You don’t, but you know we will for sure harm them if you don’t come out quietly!” His father sighed, heading towards the door.

   Cameron cried out for him, “Dadda!” His voice was much higher-pitched than it used to be, and he didn’t know where this dream was coming from, or if it was even a dream at all. Could that letter, and my father’s diary, be dredging up a memory? He wondered.

   The last thing Cameron saw before waking up was his mother screaming as his father walked out the door.