Chapter 4: …And Those Days Too

Sunday, October 30th, 2011

BROOKE

"Hey Sam," I rapped gently on her closed bedroom door, waiting briefly for a response that never came before I reached down and grabbed at the handle, pushing the door open slowly in an effort to avoid the squeak of the hinges that all of the doors in my house had a tendency to make.

Yeah sure, I knew that today was a Sunday, and yes, I usually was nice enough to allow Sam to sleep in on the weekends, but today was a little bit different.

You see, it had been ten o'clock last night that I had finally noticed the fact that in the brief amount of hours since our arrival back home from Haley's, Sam had taken a pretty sudden turn for the worse in her already abysmal state of health.

Following our return from Haley and Nathan's house, she'd gone straight into her bedroom, shutting herself in tightly so that I'd barely seen her for the remainder of the day.

It was at about five o'clock that I'd gone in to check on her, only to find her fast asleep, morphed into her blankets so that she was tangled like a spider web.

I'd spent the majority of the remainder of my evening checking periodically in on her at even intervals, achieving very similar results each time until she'd finally submerged from the depths beyond her inner sanctum, just as I was comfortably laying myself out on my couch with a couple of my sketches in front of me as I sipped generously from my fourth glass of Chardonnay, cursing my tolerance alongside the microscopic alcohol content that was doing absolute shit for me right now.

She looked much worse for the wear, even more so than I had noticed earlier in the day, but instead of stopping to let me know how she was feeling, as I would have preferred, she instead walked straight past me, without so much as an acknowledgment let alone a word, rushing into the bathroom faster than I had ever seen the girl move in her entire life.

I'd moved so quickly to follow her, I spilled half of my glass of wine all down my front, the red stain flowering like blood across my chest as I rushed into the bathroom, arriving just in time to see her drop down onto her hands and knees, where she barely so much as made contact with the floor before she was projectile vomiting into the toilet.

She'd insisted that she was fine as much as she could between bouts of vomiting, but anybody with two eyes and half of a working brain could see that it wasn't anywhere even close to the truth.

But of course, being the push over that I was, I stupidly listened to her.

I spent the majority of the night before; straight into this very moment right now laying awake designated the blame for this new development in her illness on myself.

I shouldn't have taken Sam to Haley's house yesterday.

I shouldn't have ever let that stupid doctor tell me that she was fine.

And I sure as hell shouldn't have ever backed down in my responsibilities as a parent, in my responsibilities to protect Sam, even if the danger was directly inside of her.

"Sam…" I called out to her, approaching the sleeping girl with caution.

She didn't respond, but then again, she had been so deeply protected underneath that mound of blankets surrounding her that I was pretty sure that my voice, and by default, my very presence was being blocked out through the layer of polyester.

"Sam honey, can you wake up for me?" I spoke gently, reaching out a soft hand so that I could take a hold of her shoulder and shake it as tenderly as I possibly could with it still being effective. And this time, she responded; a slight groan and a shuffle before her eyes, sticky with sleep, slowly slid open.

"Hey Sam, how are you feeling?"

She rubbed softly at her eyes, opening her mouth in response to my question only to emit a noise that escaped in a series of low pitched gibberish, her capacity of speech now so totally obliterated that her words sounded like the mere echo of a frequency that my ears were not even capable of registering.

She paused briefly, taking a deep breath in order to fuel a heavy cough, screwing her face up in frustration as her second attempt at speech failed just as miserably as the first.

"Hey, don't try to talk okay? Your voice is shot, you've gotta rest it up. How about I make you some tea or something, we'll try to get it cleared up?"

She nodded her head, struggling to get to her elbows in an effort to prop herself upright.

"Thanks," She managed at least that but still, her word sounded more like that spoken by a dying frog than an actual human being.

"Okay, I'll be right back. Hang in there for a few more minutes, alright?" She responded with yet another nod as I turned on my heels and power walked as quickly as I possibly could out of Sam's room, determined to satisfy her needs in as quick of a manner as I possibly could, feeling very lucky that I had at the very least, just made myself a cup of tea mere minutes ago so that there was a pot of already hot water still resting on the stove.

I poured the scalding water into a mug so quickly that I actually over filled it, spilling some of the contents out of the side and subsequently burning my hand in the process but I was so entranced in my efforts to move quicker that my endorphins over powered the second degree burns I'd just received.

I hadn't even felt it.

"Here you go," Walking back into her bedroom, I extended my gift of tea out towards her in an offer that she accepted gratefully, sipping with an automatic caution that I wished I had registered with myself a couple of seconds ago…

"Thanks," She grunted harshly, pushing the blankets off of her body as she swung her legs over around the side of the bed in her attempt to regain some control of her footing.

"Hey, no, stay put okay?" I stopped her in her tracks, watching as she sighed and gave me a look that I ignored in my refusal to budge. "I'm not joking, stay in that bed."

My eyes narrowed in on her, my mere look acting as enough of a force to ensure that Sam knew that I meant business and wasn't going anywhere. But quickly, very quickly actually, I felt my expression slide from one of sternness to one of utmost concern as I found myself truly looking down at Sam and, for the first time, noticing the literal beads of sweat glistening along her forehead, making their way steadily down the side of her face.

I didn't say anything, instead, I acted on instinct, jutting my palm outwards, practically slapping it against Sam's forehead.

In a natural response, she pulled away from my touch out of the habit of reaction, but for what it was worth, that might have been for the better because the heat that was radiating off of her skin was more than enough to physically burn my already burnt hand even more than it already was.

"Sam, you're burning up." My voice expressed my concern, emitting as almost frantic really as she looked away from me, apparently ashamed for some reason or another towards the fact that she was sick, that she needed me to take care of her.

"Stay right here, I wanna get your temperature real quick." It was the second time in a manner of minutes that I'd raced from Sam's room, but this time, my destination wasn't the kitchen but the bathroom. You see, right before I had gotten Angie, in my paranoid, pre-parenthood state, I had gone down to CVS and stocked myself up, practically buying a miniature doctor's office in my expedition, one in which included a cheap little plastic thermometer.

Damn good thing too, I guess.

I finally found the thing after only a couple seconds of frantic searching that resulted in all of the contents of my cabinet being spilled out onto the counter below where it rested on the top shelf, all the way in the back corner, unused, and in fact still covered with the ridiculous amount of plastic wrap that they for some reason insisted on covering these things with, making it nearly impossible to respond rapidly in the event of an emergency, which for me, was right now.

Eventually, I'd simply resorted to using my teeth to open the damn thing up, multi-tasking as I darted down the length of the hallway, rounding so quickly back into Sam's room that I'd almost run head-long right into the wall.

"Okay Sam, open up. And please, just work with me here on this." I added that last bit because I knew Sam, so I knew that she was going to want to fight me tooth and nail on this one.

But either I had been wrong in my assumptions, or my plan to enforce the rules early on worked better than I had initially expected it to, because she opened her mouth for me more than willingly, without so much as a sound, let alone a witty retort.

We remained silent for the entirety of the length of time that it took for the thermometer to beep back at us, and the time felt like it took hours when in reality, it couldn't have been any longer than a minute or two until the beep rang so loudly across the otherwise silent room that it caused the two of us to jump in our surprise, jolted by the suddenness of the noise.

I grabbed the thing out of Sam's mouth so rapidly in my frantic effort to see the results that I was surprised that I didn't choke the poor girl, who was already sick enough as it was without my contribution.

Looking down, I stared at the small digital display at the blunt end of the plastic device, staring carefully, then squinting to adjust my eye sight, which couldn't be right given what I was seeing right in front of me and staring a little bit harder, completely convinced that the numbers being displayed before me were some sort of error or something.

"What's the damage?" Sam croaked feebly when I didn't deliver the news immediately.

"Sam, you have a fever of 103°…" My mind began to race, my numerous thoughts jumbling together inside of my brain as panic slowly began to settle in so that I couldn't comprehend a single tangible contribution that I could make to this situation, which, as it seemed, was much more serious than I had initially anticipated.

Shit, shit, shit! What the hell was I supposed to do now? Sam was sick. Sam was really sick. Hell, she could be dying right now and I wouldn't even know it. Shit!

My head was spinning so quickly I was starting to get nauseous, but that wasn't going to get me anywhere, I knew that that wouldn't get me anywhere… Okay Brooke, relax, take a deep breath, and think here. Sam needs you to think right now, not to make her more nervous than she probably already is.

"Come on Sam, let's go. I have to get you to the ER." Ultimately, that was the decision that I had come up with. I mean, that made sense, right? Was a fever of 103° high enough to warrant a trip to the emergency room, or would I get there only to have all of the doctors laugh in my face and tell me to stop being so paranoid before they turned back towards their real patients having heart attacks or nursing severed arms or whatever the hell else rolled through the ER of Tree Hill Memorial Hospital.

Either way though, I think that that was a risk that I was willing to take.

I quickly began grabbing random articles that I thought Sam to need for our trip up off of her floor, stuffing them ungracefully into her backpack, only pausing long enough to see her looking up at me, shaking her head vigorously as to make her take on the situation heard.

"No," She gathered all of her energy to release that simple and small of a word, trying to use her struggles to emphasize towards me just how much she wanted absolutely nothing to do with any sort of hospital. But this was different; this was Sam's life at stake here. I wasn't just going to give in and ignore the situation.

"Sam this is not normal!" I shouted, rather ungracefully, "You need help."

"What about… what about that doctor; you know, the one from Friday." She spoke slowly, hissing with the pain emitted from her swollen, vibrating vocal chords currently limiting her ability to produce much more noise than the speech she'd just delivered.

"Okay," I paused for a minute, registering the fact that Sam's advice was probably the most logical thing to do right now.

Good to know that my sixteen year old can think better under pressure than I can.

I darted back out of Sam's room, and just in case you lost count that would be the third time I'd done so in such a hectic matter this morning.

But you know what they say; third time's a charm, right?

I skimmed quickly across the guide magnetized to the refrigerator that listed the variety of useful phone numbers in search for the only one that truly mattered at the moment, finding it quickly before lunging in a single bound, clear across the kitchen towards the house phone resting quietly on its dock.

My hands were shaking as I cradled the device between my palms, so bad in fact, that I miss-dialed the telephone number twice before I'd finally managed to get it right.

It rang once… twice… and then finally, on the seventh ring, I was greeted by an automated voice messaging system.

"Hi, you have reached New Brunswick County Pediatrics, Dr. Copley's office. Our office hours are Monday through Friday 8 a.m. to 9 p.m., Saturday 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. We are no longer open for Sunday hours. For emergencies, please contact the nearest…"

I slammed the phone down, probably a little bit more violently than what was actually necessary, and it was only after I'd done so that I realized that I hadn't even listened to what they had to say about what to do in case of emergencies.

Would this be considered an emergency? Probably, right?

I stood within the emptiness of the kitchen for several more minutes, still and silent, desperately trying to regain my bearings, desperately trying to just think up a logical, productive solution to this problem.

God, please can somebody just come down here and tell me what to do for once? I was starting to get desperate.

Finally, I'd managed to solidify the idea that there was no way around me taking Sam to the emergency room anymore, and with that idea firmly in mind, I sprang into action, grabbing my bag, shoving anything and everything I thought to be necessary for spending a day in the ER.

"Sam, your doctor didn't answer the phone, come on we have to go!"

I rounded back into Sam's room, ready to physically carry the girl out to the car if that was what I had to do, but I was halted in surprise, shocked not exactly being the right word to describe the feeling I'd gotten when I found Sam standing up, albeit hanging onto her dresser for dear life, but never-the-less, standing.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing? Come over here, sit back down."

"Brooke, relax. I have a fever, I'm not dying." I wasn't so sure that what she was saying was exactly true, but apparently, Sam was. "You're the one who needs to sit down. The doctor's office will be open tomorrow, I can wait until then."

Our eyes locked, mine narrowing in my most desperate of efforts to positively read my mind; an effort I must say, I failed in despite my absolute best attempt.

I continued to stare at her in our silence for a long time, wracking my brain for answers, only pulling back up to the surface of my inner-most consciousness when my house phone began to ring; my ears perked up instantly.

"Maybe that's the doctor calling back." I'm not sure what exactly it was that made me think that; maybe it was desperation, maybe it was shear need, but whatever it was, I knew deep down that that wouldn't be the case.

Of course, that didn't stop me from racing out of the room and grabbing at the still-ringing phone like a starving man reaching out for food.

"Hello?"

"Hey, what's going on did you just run a marathon or something?" I recognized Peyton's voice instantly, sighing in my disappointment towards the idea that it wasn't anybody that would be qualified to provide Sam with prompt medical attention.

"Woah sorry, I didn't mean to disappoint you." Peyton responded to the sound, which apparently was loud enough to permeate through the phone lines although that wasn't exactly what I had been going for.

Great, now on top of being in a frenzied panic, now I also felt like an asshole.

"No, no I'm sorry Peyton; it's not that, it's just…" I drifted off… What was this exactly? I wasn't so sure now that I thought about it.

"It's just what? Brooke, are you alright?" She went from a tone of joking sarcasm to one of concern so quickly that I'd barely caught the transition. Thank God for Peyton, she always did have this uncanny ability to carry me on her shoulders in my time of need.

"It's nothing… I'm just worried about Sam, that's all."

"Ah, is she still sick?" She spoke with an all-knowing sense behind her voice although I couldn't help but think that she didn't even know the half of it.

"Yeah, you can say that."

"Hey listen, I was just wondering if you wanted to take a little break for an hour or two? I was thinking about taking you up on that offer for a lunch date?" I wanted to, really I did, but right now Sam was my number one priority, I wasn't about to consider leaving her for so much as a minute let alone an hour.

"I'd love to Peyton, really but… Sam just came down with a really high fever. I can't leave her alone right now."

"Hey, are you guys alright over there?" I heard the genuineness behind her inquiry, and I was glad; I was afraid that she'd be pissed for me ditching the lunch date that I had originally promised her.

"Yeah, yeah we'll be fine. I was just trying to make an appointment with her doctor's office but they were closed, so I was considering taking her over to Tree Hill Memorial real fast so…" I didn't even finish the sentence, in fact, I had no idea how to, so I just sort of let it fade away.

"Oh my God, Brooke hang on, I'm coming over."

"No, no Peyton it's fine," I stopped her quickly because I knew that she was probably already half way out the door as we spoke, "I'm just going to give her some Tylenol or something for now and see if it brings her fever down at all. If it does I think we'll be able to wait until tomorrow to take her to the doctor."

Call it peer pressure, or good debating ability on Sam's part, but somehow, in the time between leaving Sam's room and talking to Peyton, I had calmed down enough to convince myself that I was going to listen to Sam in not becoming that mom that raced her kid to the emergency room for a scraped knee.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna sit with her and make sure she's alright."

"Okay…" She sounded just about as unsure as I felt, "Well if you need anything, or if anything changes you can call me any time, okay?"

"I will," I'd agreed mainly to humor her. In all honesty, I had no intentions on actually calling her, or anybody else for anything. I mean, I knew that I was being stubborn here, but I needed to prove to both myself, and everybody else that I was competent enough to take care of my own child.

"Okay Brooke, I hope that everything turns out okay."

"Thanks Peyton, me too, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright, bye," I hung up the phone upon her motion of ending the conversation, eager to get back to Sam, but she seemed to be doing just fine, because by the time I returned to her room, she was already back in her bed and under the covers so that for a split second, I thought that she had fallen back asleep again.

"Are you okay Sam?" I asked, killing two birds with one stone with my question, trying to find out whether or not Sam was still awake, and to see how she was holding up.

I got a little bit of a mumble in response; a quick 'mhm' that I automatically took as a yes.

"Do you think you'll be able to hold out until tomorrow when the doctor's office reopens?" Again, all I received in response was a muffled grunt that I once again, assumed to be an affirmative.

"Are you hungry or anything?" I think I knew the answer before I'd even been stupid enough to ask the question… I guess I just needed some sort of noise to fill the empty air for the sake of comforting myself.

"Do you need anything?" For a moment, she didn't answer, instead, she shifted slightly under the covers so that she could look up at me, breathing deeply in and out, wheezing as the air attempted to maneuver its way through her clogged air passages.

"Can you stay with me?" My breath caught up inside of my throat instantaneously. It was a strange feeling, a good one despite the fact that Sam was so sick in front of me… Here I was, standing amidst my sick, scared child and she wanted nothing more than somebody that she could trust to take care of her, somebody like me.

"Of course I can honey." She rolled gently over in her bed, creating a space just large enough for me to crawl into as I slipped onto the mattress next to her where I was allowed to slide the girl securely underneath my arms, holding onto her tightly as her breathing slowly softened into the rhythmic pace of a peaceful, unbreakable sleep.

I didn't know too many details about what Sam's life was like before she had come to Tree Hill to live with me. She didn't like to talk about her past, and I didn't want to pry.

I wasn't sure who was there for her before, who took care of her when she got sick, who held her, but now that I sat here and actually thought about it, well… well I guess nobody really did any of those things for her, not ever.

But now as I lay here with my sleeping daughter leaning comfortable in sleep into the warmth I was able to provide her with my mere arms, I realized this; it didn't matter anymore that Sam had had nobody there to protect her before, because she had me now, and now that I was here, well I wasn't going anywhere.

And I was determined to protect her, to save her from whatever it was that I could not see, that was slowly trying to eat her alive from the inside out.