Fangirl

now, still haven’t seen wren. alcohol poisoning. my mom’s here. i’ll call you tomorrow.” And then she texted, “i’m glad that you’re out there somewhere reading this, eventually reading this, it makes me feel better.” Her battery indicator turned red.
    Laura got out her phone, too. (Why was Cath calling her that? When she was a kid, Cath hadn’t even known their mom’s name. Their dad called her “honey”—strained and tense and careful— “honey” —and their mom called him “Art.”) Laura was texting someone, probably her husband, and for some reason it pissed Cath off. That she was texting someone right now. That she was flaunting her new life.
    Cath folded her arms and watched the nurses’ station. When she felt the tears coming on, she told herself that they were for Wren, and surely some of them were.
    They waited.
    And waited.
    But not together.
    Laura got up to use the bathroom once. She walked like Wren, hips swaying, flicking her hair away from her face. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
    “No, thank you,” Cath said.
    While Laura was gone, Cath tried to call her dad again. If he answered the phone, she was pretty sure she’d cry some more, she might even call him “Daddy.” He didn’t answer.
    Laura brought back a bottle of water and set it on the table next to Cath. Cath didn’t open it.
    The nurses ignored them. Laura flipped through a magazine. When a doctor walked out to the waiting room, they both stood up.
    “Mrs. Avery?” he said, looking at Cath’s mother.
    “How is she?” Laura said, which Cath thought was a deft response.
    “I think she’s going to be fine,” the doctor said. “Her breathing is good. Her oxygen is good. She’s sucking up those fluids—and she roused a bit to talk to me a few minutes ago. I think this is just going to be a scare.… Sometimes a scare can be valuable.”
    “Can I see her?” Cath asked.
    The doctor looked over at Cath. She could almost hear him think twins. “Yeah,” he said. “That should be fine. We’re just running another test. I’ll have the nurse come out for you when we’re done.”
    Cath nodded and folded her arms again around her stomach.
    “Thank you,” Laura said.
    Cath went back to her chair to wait. But Laura stood there by the nurses’ station. After a minute, she walked back to her chair and picked up her Coach bag, tucking a used Kleenex into a pocket and nervously smoothing out the leather straps.
    “Well,” she said. “I think I’m going to head home.”
    “What?” Cath’s head snapped up.
    “I should go,” Laura said. “Your dad will be here soon.”
    “But—you can’t.”
    Laura slid her handbag up over her arm.
    “You heard the doctor,” Cath said. “We’re going to be able to see her in a few minutes.”
    “You go see her,” Laura said. “You should go.”
    “You should come, too.”
    “Is that what you really want?” Laura’s voice was sharp, and part of Cath shrank back.
    “It’s what Wren would want.”
    “Don’t be so sure,” Laura said, sounding tired again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look … I shouldn’t be here. It was a fluke that they called me. You’re here now, your dad’s on his way—”
    “You don’t just leave somebody alone in the hospital,” Cath said. It came out aflame.
    “Wren’s not alone,” Laura said sternly. “She has you.”
    Cath jerked to her feet and swayed there. Not Wren, she thought. I didn’t mean Wren.
    Laura wrenched her handbag straps higher. “Cather—”
    “You can’t leave like this—”
    “It’s the right thing to do,” Laura said, lowering her voice.
    “In what alternate universe?” Cath felt the rage burst up her throat like a cork popping. “What sort of a mother leaves the hospital without seeing her kid? What sort of a mother leaves ? Wren is unconscious—and if you think that has nothing to do with you, you are skimming the surface of reality—and I’m right here, and you haven’t even seen me for ten years, and now you’re leaving? Now?”
    “Don’t make this about me, ” Laura hissed. “You obviously don’t want me here.”
    “I’m making it about me, ” Cath said. “It’s not my job to want you or not want you. It’s not my job to earn you.”
    “Cather”—Laura’s mouth and fists were tight—“I’ve reached out to you. I’ve tried.”
    “You’re my mother, ” Cath said. Her fists were even tighter. “Try harder.”
    “This isn’t the time