space-like a petit mal? I’m sure it’s nothing and I’m just seeing it
because I’m looking for things now.”
“When did you start noticing this?”
“Yesterday, after we were admitted.”
“You never saw it at home?”
“I. . . no. But it could have been happening and I just didn’t
notice. Or maybe it’s nothing. It probably is nothing-I don’t
know.”
The pretty face began to buckle.
Stephanie patted her and Cindy moved toward the gesture, almost
imperceptibly, as if to gain more comfort from it.
Stephanie stepped back, breaking contact. “How often have these
staring episodes been occurring?”
“Maybe a couple of times a day. It’s probably nothing-just her
concentrating. She’s always been good at concentrating when she plays
at home she concentrates really well.”
“Well, that’s good-the fact that she’s got a good attention span.”
Cindy nodded but she didn’t look reassured.
Stephanie drew an appointment book out of a coat pocket, ripped out a
back page and handed it to Cindy. “Tell you what, next time you see
this staring, make a record of the exact time and call in Vicki or
whoever’s on duty to have a look, okay?”
“Okay. But it doesn’t last long, Dr. Eves. Just a few seconds.”
“Just do the best you can,” said Stephanie. “In the meantime, I’ll
leave you and Dr. Delaware to get acquainted.”
Pausing for a moment to look at the sleeping child, she smiled at both
ofus and left.
When the door closed, Cindy looked down at the bed. “I’ll fold this up
so you’ll have somewhere to sit.” There were delicate lavender veins
under her skin, too. At the temples, throbbing.
“Let’s do it together,” I said.
That seemed to startle her. “No, that’s okay.”
Bending, she took hold of the mattress and lifted. I did likewise and
the two of us turned the bed back into a sofa.
She smoothed the cushions, stood back, and said, “Please.”
Feeling as if I were in a geisha house, I complied.
She walked over to the green chair and removed the LuvBunnies.
Placing them on the nightstand, she pulled the chair opposite the couch
and sat, feet flat on the floor, a hand on each slender thigh.
I reached over, took one of the stuffed animals from the window ledge,
and stroked it. Through the glass the treetops of Griffith Park were
green-black and cloudlike.
“Cute,” I said. “Gifts?”
“Some of them are. Some we brought from home. We wanted Cassie to
feel at home here.”
“The hospital’s become a second home, hasn’t it?”
She stared at me. Tears filled the brown eyes, magnif’ing them.
A look of shame spread across her face.
Shame? Or guilt?
Her hands shot up quickly to conceal it.
She cried silently for a while.
I got a tissue from the box on the bed table and waited.
She uncovered her face. “Sorry.”
“No need to be,” I said. “There aren’t too many things more stressful
than having a sick child.”
She nodded. “The worst thing is not knowing-watching her suffer and
not knowing. . . If only someone could figure it out.”
“The other symptoms resolved. Maybe this will too.”
Looping her braid over one shoulder, she fingered the ends. “I sure
hope so. But.
I smiled but said nothing.
She said, “The other things were more. . . typical. Normal-if that
makes any sense.
“Normal childhood diseases,” I said.
“Yes-croup, diarrhea. Other kids have them. Maybe not as severe, but
they have them, so you can understand those kinds of things. But
seizures . . . that’s just not nil.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “kids have seizures after a high fever. One or
two episodes and then it never recurs.”
“Yes, I know. Dr. Eves told me about that. But Cassie wasn’t spiking
a temp when she had hers. The other times-when she had
gastrointestinal problems-there were fevers. She was burning up,
then.
A hundred and six.” She tugged the braid. And then that went away and
I thought we were going to be okay, and then the seizures just came out
of nowhere-it was really frightening. I heard something in her
room-like a knocking. I went in and she was shaking so hard the crib