Page 3 of Dr. Scandal Claus

Maybe they'd never forget. Maybe they'd never let me forget. And maybe…maybe it was time to accept that and move on. Somewhere else. Somewhere far away, where no one knew me, where no one whispered my name like a curse.

I took another bite, the warmth of the muffin doing little to melt the ice that had formed around my heart.

Maybe leaving was the only way to finally start over.

3

SCARLETT

Inoticed Ethan wheezing around dinnertime, but now, seated next to the Christmas tree wrapping presents for his friends in school, it's gotten worse. He was happy as a clam, though, sipping hot cocoa with exactly ten mini marshmallows and a candy cane to stir. But my nagging fear of something being wrong with him wouldn't let up.

"You sure you're feeling alright, buddy?" I asked him, noticing how he seemed a bit pale. I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead and he swatted it away.

"Mom, your hand's in the way," he whined, and refocused on his work of taping the colorful Christmas wrapping paper onto the cardboard packaging of the toy squirt gun he picked for his friend Tony. "I'm almost done." Ethan coughed a little and I heard the wheeze in his chest worsen slightly.

"Did you use your inhaler today?" I pushed my finished package to the side, made a mental note to pick up some more ribbons to decorate them, and glanced up at the clock. At seven thirty at night we were usually snuggled in for a movie and a snack before bed. Tonight I chose gift wrapping because I got apang of guilt after seeing Nicholas Edwards earlier this week in the bakery.

I thought at some point in Ethan's future I'd have to tell him about his father. I hoped he'd be a bit older—enough so to understand why I made the choices I made. And at that point it would be so far in the future that I wouldn't face any backlash from Nick either. But bumping into him scared me. I didn't know what to think. I considered dancing around the subject with Ethan to see how he felt about not knowing about his dad.

However, if he wasn't feeling well, now wasn't the time to bring up a sensitive subject like that. I didn't know when the right moment would ever be. If I, as an adult, couldn't face what I'd done almost eight years later, how could I expect my seven-year-old son to face it?

"Buddy, how about we take a break and just watch a movie. You can have popcorn." I tried to get him up, but he was too intent on finishing his tape job. So I stood up and walked to his bedroom where I last saw his inhaler on his nightstand. The doctors gave it to him six months back when during summer soccer league he had a difficult time breathing. I didn't really think it was asthma back then, but they insisted.

Now I just wanted to stop worrying, so I swiped the inhaler and hurried back to the living room where Ethan sat. The package was finished, but he had his elbows on his knees and the palms of his hands held up his head.

"Do you have a headache? Is everything okay?" I asked him, dropping to my knees.

"My chest feels funny, that's all. And my throat tickles when I breathe." He looked up at me and I noticed his lips looked a little blue, which sent my heart into overdrive.

"Okay, buddy, I want you to lie down on the couch." I wasn't taking no for an answer. I made him stand up then walked himto the couch and put a pillow under his head as he lay down. Then I put his inhaler in his hand and pulled out my phone.

Wheezing was one thing, and some tickling in his throat was okay. But chest pain and blue lips were bad. I didn't have to be a doctor to know that. I slipped out of the room but stayed where I could see him and dialed the number for the hospital's Call-a-Nurse program. It rang several times and I thought I was going to be sent to a voicemail, but after six rings a nurse picked up.

"Call-a-Nurse, this is Tammy," she said cheerily, but I was already panicking.

"Uh, hi…My name is Scarlett Moore. My son Ethan is seven years old. He was diagnosed with asthma over the summer but lately I've noticed him having a hard time breathing. I'm not sure his inhaler is doing anything for him and I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to rush into the hospital if it's nothing." I bit my lip and waited, watching Ethan lie on the couch holding his inhaler to his lips.

"Hi, Ms. Moore, I'm so sorry to hear you're dealing with that. Now tell me a little about your boy: height, weight, and any other symptoms? What medication is he on and how often does he use it?" The nurse sounded very professional and very polite, and I was already starting to feel better.

"Uh, he's forty-six inches tall, and I think around fifty pounds. We haven't had a checkup in a while. He's not as active as he used to be given his asthma, and when he gets rowdy he uses the inhaler, one or two puffs. Albuterol I think…" I was chewing the inside of my cheek raw with worry but this woman was my lifeline.

"And any other symptoms?" she asked again, and I could hear her typing on a keyboard.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Uh, he said his chest feels funny. I'm not sure if that's pain or pressure. And his lips are a little blue. Wedidn't have anything blue to eat or drink so I'm worried about that."

Ethan coughed a few times, making my heart leap up into my throat, and I heard the nurse mutter something. I wasn't getting a very good feeling about this at all. I feared that maybe I should have just gone straight to the hospital with him.

"Ma'am, if the inhaler isn't relieving the symptoms immediately, my recommendation is to bring him to the hospital. We could have a look-see and find out what's going on. Are you insured?"

The line was so silent and tense I could hear a pin drop. The way he'd been acting all evening had me wringing my hands. If she thought this was serious enough to warrant an emergency room visit, maybe I was stupid for calling this line.

"Ma'am," the nurse said, and I pried my eyes off my son's coughing fit.

"Uh, I'm here."

"Is everything okay? Do you need me to send a an ambulance?" she asked, and I got dizzy for a moment.

"Uh, yes…I think so," I told her. I was in no shape to drive and I knew it. And I was too worried to just sit here doing nothing. "Call the ambulance for me…"

---