Page 91 of Loud Unspoken Memories

“I mean… not that you should… it was just…” I cover my face with my hands. “Dallas, I don’t know how to do this. What exactly is going on here?”

“What’s going on here is that I’m keeping my promise to watch Charlie swim.”

I pick at the pool towel. “And after that?”

“After that, I’ll get in my truck and go back to my cabin.”

“And after that?”

It’s the million-dollar question. The one I haven’t asked but has been on my mind for a week. I finally did it. I asked the ‘what about me?’ question like a pathetic love-sick girl.

Asher drops into the seat next to Dallas.Talk about bad timing.

“He was invited by those kids to play on the splash pad,” Asher says, drying off.

I look over his shoulder to see Charlie playing with four other kids about his age. I watch for a moment, thinking how this must seem like just a vacation to him. He still doesn’t fully grasp that his father has died and won’t be coming back. I know it’s a conversation that we’ll have over and over again until he’s older and can understand the finality of death.

I narrow my brow and gaze at Dallas as he talks with Asher, wondering if my son isn’t the only one who doesn’t comprehend it.

Asher orders us a round of drinks, but Dallas barely touches his, all the more indication that he’ll be leaving sooner rather than later.

We all keep an eye on Charlie as we talk. I notice that Dallas does so even more vigilantly than I do. It’s like he can’t bear to be around him, but he has a need to protect him all the same.

“Something’s wrong!” Dallas says. He sprints out of his chair and dashes over to the splash pad.

My stomach churns at the tone of his words and how quickly he moves.

I dart after him until we reach the pod of children.

Charlie looks up at me, distressed. “Mommy, my mouth feels funny.”

My heart beats wildly. Did he just swallow too much chlorine, or… I look up. “My son has a severe peanut allergy. Did he ingest anything?”

A woman steps forward, holding out a packet of cookies. “My son was eating these.” She turns to him. “Sam, did you give this boy any of your snack?”

The boy, who can’t be more than four, looks scared, like he doesn’t want to be punished. He shakes his head.

I sink to his level. “Sam, it’s really important. You’re not in trouble, but Charlie may need help. Did you share your snack with him? Please tell me.”

His lip quivers. He’s afraid of all the commotion going on around us. He nods slowly.

I read the ingredients of the package. Peanuts are third on the list.Oh, dear God.

Asher shoves my purse into my hands. I pour out the contents onto the wet splash pad, searching for the EpiPen I never leave home without. “Where is it?” I rifle through everything. It has to be here. I look up at Asher, terrified. “It’s not here!”

He gets on his knees, helping me sift through everything. He checks every nook and cranny of my purse.

When realization dawns, it’s like a stab to the heart. My eyes connect with Dallas’s. “The accident. Everything spilled out of my purse. Oh my god. I don’t have it.” I stand up and yell, “Does anyone have an EpiPen?”

“I’m calling 911,” Asher says behind me.

I vaguely hear him telling the operator that we have a child going into anaphylaxis and we need epinephrine immediately.

“Charlie, help is on the way. It’s going to be okay.”

I’m on my knees, holding him close, knowing that this is going to get very bad very quickly. Just as soon as I think it, I see his lips swelling up and then he collapses. But before I can catch him, Dallas swoops in and scoops him into his arms. “We’ll meet the ambulance out front.”

Why didn’t I think of that? Seconds count when my son’s throat is closing a little more with every tick of the clock.

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