Page 48 of Echoes of Obsession

“Mommy. Mommy. Wake up. Mommy.”

The sound of Zoe’s voice pulls me from sleep. I must have been sleeping deeply because it’s hard even to open my eyes. My body feels heavy as if I’m being weighed down.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I sign. At least, I think I sign it. Why are my arms heavy?

“Seeure,” she says.

“What?” I ask but don’t see her response because my eyes are still closed.

“Mommy. Get up. Bad seeure,” she says, rubbing at my face.

It takes a few seconds for everything to click into place. I’m lying in my bed with Sky on top of my body. Zoe isn’t rubbing my face. Sky’s licking it. Seizure. Zoe’s trying to tell me that I had a bad seizure. I guess you can’t really tell there’s a z in that word just by ready lips. I need to remember to teach her how to say it properly.

It takes every ounce of strength I have just to open my eyes. But I need to communicate with Zoe.

“How long?” I sign, but my hands move very slowly.

Zoe’s hands flash before me, and I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid the onslaught of nausea.

“Slower,” I sign.

“I started my timer the moment Sky woke me up,”she says, much slower.“The first one was six minutes. The second one was four. Bad times, Mommy.”

Dang. Those are very bad times. I try taking a few deep breaths to clear my head. With every second that passes I feel my body getting heavier.

“Call 911,” I sign. “Then Ghost. He will come and get you.”

“I can’t sign over the phone, Mommy. He doesn’t understand me.”

“Baby, you can talk to him,” I say, my hand movements slowing down. “He won’t laugh at you. I promise. Watch the phone. When it turns from the word calling to a number timer, talk slowly, wait a few seconds, and then hang up.”

“I’m scared,” she says, but it’s all I can take. I close my eyes and try to smile.

“You’ll be okay, my brave girl,” I say slowly, not even trying to sign. “Ghost will come for you. He will protect you.”

Already feeling a third seizure coming my way, I fall into the darkness.

***Dove***

I’m so scared. Mommy’s body is shaking so badly that she might fall off her bed. Calling the emergency number was easy. They have a way for deaf people to communicate with them. I have an app on my phone. All I had to do was connect with an agent, and she could see me on video. They said an ambulance was on its way.

Now, I have to call Ghost. I talked in front of him before, but it was a quiet talk. I don’t know how different my voice is from other people, but I do know that it’s different. Some stupid boy at school used to make fun of me when I would answer a question in class out loud. Now, I don’t talk in front of people at all.

Mommy says my words are just fine. She can always understand me. She said that the way I say the words is a little off because I’ve never heard how sounds are supposed to sound. But my speech therapist has been working with me on how to make sounds using my tongue, lips, and teeth.

Trying to be the bravest I’ve ever been, I grab Mommy’s phone and find Ghost’s name. When I hit the green button, I remember to watch the screen.

Calling. Calling. Calling. 00:01. 00:02. 00:03. That must the number timer Mommy was talking about.

“Ghost,” I say, hoping that I sound good enough that he understands and hoping I’m not talking too loud. I relax my throat and speak again. “Mommy had a bad seeyour, and the ambulance is on the way. Can you come and get me?”

I keep watching the screen as the numbers get higher with each second. I wait for three seconds, and then I hang up.

I jump when the phone vibrates.

Facetime from Ghost

I hit the green button and Ghost’s face pops up on the screen. His eyes are huge and he looks scared. His lips are moving, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. It’s harder to read lips over a video.