The second time occurred during the summer I was fifteen, and upset over a silly fight I'd had with Dakota, I went off on my own for a hike in the woods behind the lodge. The plan was to find my inner Zen, cool down before I smacked my annoying sister upside the head, but instead, I found a big ass grizzly bear drinking water from the nearby creek. Even though I've always considered myself to be pretty brave, especially for a girl, I'm no Princess Merida and I was completely unarmed, so I took off running like an Olympic sprinter, dodging in and out of trees, with the bear right on my heels. Somehow, someway, I managed to flee to the safety of my house, seconds before I became Hudson tartare for lunch.
The third time is right now.
Paralyzed with fear, I stand with my arm hooked around Brighton's waist, holding her close as she buries her face in my chest, unable to watch the scene unfolding in front of us. I, on the other hand, can't tear my eyes away from the devastating sight of Caleb shaking violently across our game room floor while his mom and brother kneel next to him, ensuring he stays on his side and doesn't slam his body into any of the furniture.
With only the whites of his eyes visible and from the sheer amount of vomit spewing from his mouth, I'm afraid this seizure is worse than normal...that something is really wrong, but neither Crew nor Mary seems overly alarmed. I'm not sure what I expected—I guess trembling and jerking, maybe some drooling and crying out—but I had no idea of the severity or how incredibly gut-wrenching it would be to witness him fight his way through one.
"Mel, why don't you take Denver out of here and explain to him what happened?" My dad's voice breaks through the eerie silence once Caleb's body stops convulsing and lies limp in a puddle of his own bodily fluids. I snap my head up just in time to see my mom ushering my little brother, his face full of a thousand questions, out of the room.
"Brighton," he continues in a gentle yet authoritative tone I'm not sure I've ever heard from him, "go hang out in Cheyenne's room or with Mel and Denver until I get back from carrying Caleb over to their cabin."
Crew unfolds his legs underneath him with a swift shake of his head. "I've got him. Don't worry about it. I'm used to this," he insists. "I'm sorry for everything." The pain and anguish on Crew's face incites a clenching sensation so deep in my chest I'm afraid my heart may be permanently bruised.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, and I want to help. Please. The weather's getting bad outside and I need you to go with Hudson to the greenhouse to grab something to help Caleb when he wakes up. A minute or two to catch your breath will help you, and her as well." He cocks his head in my direction, where I now stand alone, still in complete shock, my arms wrapped tightly around my middle as I struggle to process the images in my head. Crew's gaze searches the room, and the moment he finds me, an additional layer of concern is added to his already troubled expression.
"Go with Crew, sweetie, and get a quarter ounce of Baby's Breath. I think it'll be best for now," my dad urges. "Mary and I will get Caleb comfortable, and then you can stay over there as long as you need to. Okay?"
I don't respond. I have no words.
"Take her, son," Mary encourages softly. "Caleb will be okay. You know that."
Crew's focus flits from me to his mom, then over to his brother, and finally lands back on me. Nodding, he crosses the room with long, unwavering strides until he's mere inches from me.
"Come with me, Hudson," he reaches out and grabs both of my hands in his, yanking my body up against his like a limp ragdoll. He rubs his strong hands up and down my arms as he presses his lips to my forehead. "He's gonna be fine. I promise. Just come with me right now."
He leads me out of the room, pausing for us both to put on our coats and shoes, and then out the front door, rarely allowing our skin to break contact. Somewhere between my house and the greenhouse, instinct kicks in—granted, a little delayed—and suddenly, I’m overcome with the need to help Caleb, even more so than before. Now that I’ve seen what afflicts him…now that I know what he has to live with on a daily basis, I’m even more motivated than before to do anything and everything in my power to fix him. No one should have to deal with that. Especially not him.
Darting around the greenhouse like a woman possessed, I grab not only the sack of Baby’s Breath that my dad suggested, but several other strains that I hadn’t taken over yesterday, wanting to give them every possible option to choose from. Silent, Crew hangs out by the door, staying out of my way as if he senses my frenzied panic, until I trip over a watering line and fall to my hands and knees.
Rushing over to my side, he helps me up off the ground, brushing the dirt off of my legs and arms, but I’m unable to hold back the tears of frustration that escape.
“Hey there, baby.” He tenderly wipes away the moisture on my cheeks with his thumbs. “Take a deep breath and calm down. It’s gonna be okay.”
He squats down to pick up the bags of weed I dropped on the ground, tucking them away inside his coat, then laces our fingers together and tips his head toward the door. “Come on. I’ve got ya.”
With my hand nestled securely back in his, we charge through the increasing snowfall until we’re safely trudging up the steps to his cabin. After immediately shedding my outer layer of clothing, I rush over to the bed where Caleb is asleep, already cleaned up and in fresh clothes.
“He woke up for a little bit when we changed his clothes, but he’ll probably sleep for a while now,” Mary says, her gentle tone appeasing my worry a little bit. “I know you’ve never experienced anything like that before, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll barely remember what happened when he wakes up.”
“Is he in pain?” I wonder aloud in a hushed whisper.
Crew sidles up next to me, encircling his arm around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my head. “Sometimes, he’s a little nauseous or has a headache when he wakes up, but other times, he’s just fine.”
Mary digs some clothes out of one of the drawers and excuses herself for a shower, patting both of our arms as she walks by. Leaning my weight back into him, I release a feeble sigh, unsure of what to say. I feel helpless and I hate it.
“Come on.” He nudges me away from the bed. “Let’s go sit down and talk, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about it. If you’re gonna be around him, you can’t freak out like this every time, ‘cause I promise it’ll happen again.”
Once we’re seated at the table, I eye the orange pack of ZigZags and weed where we left them earlier in the day, and I have the overwhelming desire to smoke. I need something to help relax me, something to smooth the rough edges of my worries and fears, but I feel weird lighting up in someone else’s place.
“Go ahead. She won’t mind,” Crew assures me before I can even ask, intuitively sensing my craving.
“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.
He slides the rolling papers toward me with a small crooked smile that reaches his eyes. “I promise.”
I jump up to snag the additional pot we brought from his coat pocket, hastily breaking up enough Twilight Zone—a strain known for its peaceful, tranquil high—for a medium-sized joint. It takes me less than thirty seconds to roll, lick, and twist up the ends, and not a moment too soon, I’m leaning back in the chair, inhaling a lungful of much needed comfort.
I’m uncertain if he’s going to smoke too, but Crew surprises me when he takes the joint from my offering fingers and begins talking openly about when Caleb first began his battle with epilepsy. Passing it back and forth, we smoke as he tells me about the debilitating headaches, seizures increasing in frequency and intensity, and dreadful side effects from the prescription drugs that led them to choose Colorado for not only the medical marijuana, but also a complete lifestyle change.