“What’s wrong? Why are you ill?”
“I don’t know-”
“Maybe it’s a virus,” he said. “I could wake Tsutomu and get him to take your temperature. I’d rather not bother your father, if that’s all right with you.”
“Don’t get Tom either,” I said, noticing for the first time that my hands were trembling. “I’m sure in the morning, I’ll be fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. Between episodes of vomiting and diarrhea, I tried to recall everything I’d eaten, which was a challenge, given my light-headedness. Sushi seemed obvious, but I’d been feeling sick earlier in the day, on the road up to Tantalus. Maybe it hadn’t been just motion sickness, but a reaction to the mainland-shipped yogurt I’d had in the morning. I could also have become ill from food at Josiah Pierce’s home. This was much more sinister, given that I’d confessed my agenda to Josiah Pierce over lunch. But we’d already been eating when I dropped my bomb. He had no idea of my motivation when I’d called him the previous day, or so I hoped.
I wanted to talk to Michael. When there was enough light in the room, I made it to the desk where I’d left my cell phone to charge. My call rang straight into his voicemail. Maybe he was still asleep, and the phone was recharging. The other less pleasant idea was that Michael was suffering his own bout of illness. I whispered something about not feeling well and asking him to call me when he had a chance.
I clicked the phone off and fell into a sickly slumber, waking to an odd, clanking sound and midday sun. I rubbed my eyes and saw a man on his hands and knees behind the bed.
I screamed.
“The next time you fall ill, you should wake me to help.” My father’s tone was as reproving as his words.
“Sorry, I…I didn’t see that was you, and Uncle Hiroshi did all that anyone could. Otoosan, you don’t have to pick up the broken lamp. Don’t lean down. I’ll clean it up myself-’ I struggled upward and, hit by a new wave of nausea, fell back.
“I checked your temperature, and there’s no fever. I suspect you’re suffering from food poisoning.”
“I don’t know,” I said warily. “My vision’s all blurred.”
“Really?” My father leaned close to me, and suddenly, I was flat-out terrified. “No, please, no,” I heard myself saying. Or rather, screaming.
There were more people in the room then, Tom and Uncle Hiroshi. Tom was trying to take my temperature and read my blood pressure and I was fighting him. Couldn’t any of them understand they were frightening me? In the midst of all this, I heard my cell phone ringing.
“Let me talk!” I cried in vain, but nobody did. The next thing I knew, they were bundling me into the third row of the minivan. Between vomiting and crying, my aching head exploded with panicked thoughts. I couldn’t go on, but how would I get out? The window? But the windows were locked, and my father and uncle were staring at me, listening to my every thought. Where was Michael? He’d save me from this, if only he knew.
They took me to Queen’s Medical Center, unloading me fast, and suddenly I was surrounded by more blurry people who rolled me on to a stretcher. A needle shot something into my arm, and within minutes, everything slowed, even the fear. The last thing I remembered was the sound of my father arguing with somebody about whether I needed a pregnancy test, and then everything went black.
24
I WOKE UP, no longer nauseated, but feeling more uncomfortable than I could remember. There was an IV line going into the top of my left hand, and another one attached to the intersection of my shoulder and neck. A line even ran between my legs, where I should have had underwear. But I had no panties, and I had no regular clothes, either; just a dismal cotton gown, and underneath it, electrical patches sticking to my chest, with more lines connecting to a piece of equipment that I recognized from my father’s hospital stay as a heart monitor. Oh, God, had I turned into my father?
No, I realized with relief, my fingernails still had the same ballet-pink nail polish I’d applied at the start of the Hawaii trip. And my father was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the hospital room across from me.
I could see him; I could see my father. My vision was back. My stomach still hurt, though, and my throat was sore.
I croaked aloud, ‘I see!”
“It’s about time,” my father said, breaking his chain of movements to come to the bed and embrace me.
“I’m feeling better, too-oh, my God, so much better. I don’t like to remember…”
“You had a drug overdose. That’s why you were ill.” My father’s words came slowly.
“Otoosan, I didn’t take drugs, I swear it. All I remember was getting sick in the middle of the night. I thought it was food poisoning…” I broke off. “What about Michael? Do you know, did this happen to him, too?”
“Michael’s in the waiting room. Now that you’re conscious, I’m sure they’ll allow him to see you.”
“You mean, he’s been out there for…how long?”
“You arrived here yesterday. We’ve all come and gone, staying for blocks of time. It was a very serious situation, Rei. You could have died, if they hadn’t given you the activated charcoal in time. That’s the reason for the nasal line, in case you were wondering. The catheter and IVs and EKG monitoring leads are not signs of trouble in those areas, but all routine for someone recovering from the kind of problem you had.”
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “I don’t know what got into me; I barely remember anything but…terror.”
“You were in a state of psychosis,” my father said. “I’ve seen it many times before. The mechanism of your brain had simply gone haywire; despite your best intentions, you couldn’t have done anything other than what you did.”
At least I hadn’t killed anyone. I asked, ‘What kind of drug was in me? Heroin, crack, crystal meth? Am I addicted now?”
“Of course not. Your system was full of lithium mixed with Motrin, one of the most highly toxic combinations. If you had died, the medical examiner would have tried to classify it as suicide.”
“You know I’m not suicidal. The drugs must have been chopped up and added to something I ate or drank yesterday.”
“Michael suggested the same thing. As the situation stands, you will have to take very good care of your thyroid and kidneys for a while.”
“Does that mean a special diet?”
“No, just avoiding certain irritants. You should try to consume very little alcohol, citrus, and caffeine. And stay away from ibuprofen, Tylenol and acetaminophen, and get your thyroid checked regularly, for a while.”
“Will do.” I breathed deeply, glad to be alive. “Otoosan, will you do something for me?”
“Yes. What do you need?”
“Michael. Could you bring him to me?”
“YOU’LL NEVER SEE me look as bad as this again,” I said to Michael, when he rushed into the room a few minutes later. There were rings under his eyes, his face was unshaven and he looked as if he’d slept in his clothes. He was carrying a large brown paper bag with an oily stain, which he set down on my tray. All in all, he looked more disreputable than I’d ever seen him-but utterly glorious.
“I don’t care, Rei. I’m just glad to see your eyes open.” Michael took the hand that didn’t have a tube coming out of it, and held it tightly.
“I’ll just go downstairs and get a decaf,” my father said, and the door closed behind him.
“That was nice of him,” Michael said. “Giving us some privacy.”
I sighed. “I apologize in advance for anything that my family might have done, while I was out of commission.”
“Oh, there’s nothing to apologize for. We talked a bit in the waiting room, and your cousin Tom was good enough to let me know what was going on by finding my number on your cell phone. I’m so sorry that I missed that first call you made. My phone was recharging, and by the time I got the message and called you back, it was too late.”