Letters to a Dead Daughter

I came down with a cold.

At first, it was nothing more than a slight tickle in my throat.

There was a box of cold medicine in the bathroom cabinet. I was about to make myself a dose when Mom stopped me.

"That's for Catherine. She said her throat feels scratchy, too. You're older, Allison. You can handle it."

So I put the medicine back.

I tried to tough it out for three days. Then my throat began to burn. Every swallow felt like sandpaper scraping it raw.

Then came the fever. First 100.4 degrees, then 102.2.

I told Mom I needed to see a doctor.

She was in the kitchen frying chicken wings for my sister, Catherine Baldwin.

Catherine had final exams and said she needed a good meal to help her focus. The exhaust fan was so loud that I had to repeat myself.

"In a minute," Mom said without looking back. "Catherine still has her math exam tomorrow."

So I waited.

I waited for Catherine to come home and eat every last chicken wing on the plate.

I waited for Mom to wash the dishes, wipe down the stove, and make sure Catherine had everything ready for the next morning.

I waited until ten that night.

Only then did Mom come into my room and press a hand to my forehead.

She pulled it away almost at once.

"How did your fever get this high?"

She went into the bathroom and dug through the medicine cabinet until she found a bottle of ibuprofen.

She checked the expiration date. They had expired six months earlier.

"They're still fine. They won't hurt you."

She shook two pills into her palm and handed them to me.

"Take these and get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow. You're the older one. You've always been strong."

I took the pills.

By the next morning, my temperature had dropped slightly to 100 degrees.

"See?" Mom said. "I told you they'd work."

Then she went to work, and I went to school.

During the second period, I started coughing up blood in the middle of class.

The girl beside me froze, then threw up her hand and screamed for the teacher. By the time my teacher reached me, I was already slipping out of my chair.

She caught me before my head hit the floor. Her fingers brushed my neck, and she later said my skin had been frighteningly hot.

The ambulance arrived within minutes. As I lay on the stretcher, I heard my teacher call Mom.

"Mrs. Baldwin, Allison collapsed in class and coughed up blood. We're in the ambulance heading to the local hospital. You need to get there as soon as you can."

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Mom's voice soon came through the phone. She wasn't speaking loudly, but even the paramedics could hear her.

"Can't it wait until I get off work? I'm on the late shift. If I leave now, they'll dock my pay."

My teacher's voice sharpened. "Your daughter is coughing up blood, and you're worried about losing a few hours' pay?"

"You don't understand." Mom suddenly sounded exhausted. "I have two daughters. Every dollar matters. Just stay with her until I get there. I'll come as soon as my shift ends."

She hung up.

The paramedic placing an oxygen mask over my face was a woman in her forties. Her hands went still for a moment before she continued.

She didn't say anything, but her eyes had turned red.

I stared at the flashing lights on the ambulance ceiling.

I wondered if Mom would hug me first when she finally got there.