“And where do you think you’re going, Ms. I need to get out of here.Īs I stand up, the door opens and an older man in a white coat appears. I eye my bag on the chair across the room anxiously.

This isn’t supposed to happen when you’re thirty-five. I fidget with the IV in my arm that’s slowly administering blood pressure medication. I got into a cab, and I went to the emergency room. I couldn’t let them see me like that, so I lied and said I had to go back to the office and put out a fire.

I’ve been having symptoms for at least a month, but at a business lunch today-me, and eleven men in suits-I had to excuse myself.

I was admitted at noon with high blood pressure-dangerously high, the ER doctor said. I look up at the clock on the wall: It’s after eight. “Will be in asap.” The project, of course, is this pesky health condition of mine. “Got sidetracked with another project,” I type. The nurse begins to speak, and I hold up my hand for silence, then sit up to compose myself before hitting Reply. He doesn’t know I’m in the hospital, of course. I feel my heart beat faster and I take a deep breath. “Where are you? Thought you were working on second-quarter reports tonight?” I see the disapproving look in her eyes and I want to blurt out, “I’m a vegetarian! I run marathons! I haven’t even had dessert in two years!” But my cell phone chimes, and I pick it up quickly. Cater is going to want to talk to you about this.” A moment later she rips open the Velcro and frowns. I immediately thank my seventeen-year-old self (profusely) for not actually going through with that wraparound dolphin ankle tattoo I was once this close to getting. I stare at the tattoo on her forearm, a butterfly with a lot of pink and purple detailing, as she squeezes the black pump between her fingers. “Didn’t mean to wake you, honey,” she says, fastening a blood pressure cuff around my arm. The thin sheet draped over my body is stiff and scratchy, bleached one too many times, and I shiver as a nurse places her icy hands on my wrist. I open my eyes quickly, and the stark white walls beyond my hospital bed reset my frame of mind to reality. The embers in the fireplace burn the color of a setting orange sun, and I’m wrapped in a quilt, seated in a big wingback chair reading a book. For me, that place is the bookstore, with its emerald green walls and the big picture windows that, at night, frame the stars twinkling above. ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof.***Įveryone has a happy place, the scene that comes into view when you close your eyes and let your mind transport you to the dot on the globe where life is cozy, safe, warm.

Goodnight june by sarah jio