“What now?” she sighed.“I need a hospital,” I said.“Of course you do.” She was already reaching for her keys. “Because today wasn’t complicated enough.”My mother stepped closer but did not kneel. Did not check anything. “Is she okay?” she asked Chloe, not me.
“She’s fine,” Chloe said. “Just being herself.”

She got me to the car. She drove before I had the seat belt on. She told me not to make a scene at the hospital because she did not have time for this, and I told her I was not trying to make a scene, and she told me that was all I ever did, that every time something important happened for her I suddenly had an issue.I leaned my head back and let those words exist without fighting them because I did not have the breath.

The ER was bright and crowded when we arrived. A nurse looked up as we came in. Her name tag read Brenda.“What’s going on?” she asked.Chloe stepped in front of me before I could answer. “She’s just being dramatic. Probably anxiety.”
Brenda looked past Chloe and directly at me. Something shifted in her face.
“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Pain,” I said. “Abdomen. Hard to breathe.”Her posture changed instantly. She reached for a wheelchair.Chloe stepped in front of it.“Let her wait,” she said. Flat. Certain. The voice of someone accustomed to being obeyed. “It’s not urgent.”
“She doesn’t look stable,” Brenda said.Chloe shrugged. “She’s jealous. My wedding is in two days. She always does this right before something important.” She leaned slightly, not quite lowering her voice. “Trust me. She’s fine.”