Free Short Bus Hero by Shannon Giglio

that’s all it is.” Dr. Stone takes Lois’s hand and helps her to her feet. “They’ll schedule the tests and call you. I’ll try to get her in sometime this week. It’s a little crazy with the holidays coming up, but I’ll see if I can work some magic over at the hospital.” His eye twinkles as he tips her a wink, and, for a fraction of a second, his Santaesque similitude reveals itself to Lois. “We’ll see if we can’t get you some good news for Christmas.”
    She sighs, flashes a wan smile, and turns to go.
    “Um, Lois,” the doctor says, handing her Ally’s prescription. Lois looks into his face. He looks a little more worried than he did a second ago. “There is one more thing about the pills. It’s very, very, highly unlikely, and I don’t want to worry you even more, but . . .”
    And he gives her the standard suicidal ideation disclaimer that no one ever pays attention to. It’s the medical equivalent of that warning label they put on beer bottle labels. It goes something like, “antidepressants have been linked to an increase in suicidal thoughts and behavior in some patients, especially children and young adults.”
    Lois doesn’t think much of it. Call it carelessness.
     
    ***
     
    “Okay, here we go. I’m going to put you in, okay?” the radiographer says to Ally, through the mic. “Then you’re going to hear some noises, like, clicks and stuff, but don’t be scared, nothing’s going to hurt, nothing’s even going to touch you. Then, it’ll be about ten minutes, okay? Easy. Just close your eyes and listen to the music.”
    Ally sighs. “Okay.”
    The radiographer grins at Lois and punches a button. Machinery engages and Ally’s head penetrates the doughnut hole.
    That’s when the screaming begins.
    They finally call Dr. Stone, who authorizes ten milligrams of diazepam so they can complete the test. Ally and Lois spend the entire day at the hospital for a twenty-minute procedure.
    When Ally refuses to go to Friday night karaoke, Lois arranges for a movie night at the Forman home instead. Ally even balks at that suggestion, but Lois insists. She needs to keep Ally in the fold. So, the kids watch a couple of DVDs in the basement while the moms hold down the kitchen table.
    “What did you tell her boss?” Trish asks Lois, pouring herself a glass of wine from the Gallo box hanging precariously off the crowded kitchen counter. Someday, she’s going to help Lois clean this place up.
    Everyone looks at Lois, wanting to hear her answer.
    “Well, I told him that she’s going through a rough time right now and asked if he could give her a couple of weeks off.” She brushes a stray gray lock of hair out of her eyes and sips her chardonnay.
    “What did he say? Did he fire her?” Sylvia is well enough to journey out of her own house again. She isn’t supposed to be drinking wine, but, half a glass? Come on, who is that going to hurt? Mixing it with her pain medication will make her throw up later, but she thinks, it’s fun being a little tipsy, here, in Lois’s chaotic kitchen.
    “No,” Lois says, “he was very understanding, actually. He’s a good guy, said she can come back any time, just let him know when she’s ready.” Lois took a long sip from her wine glass. “Now, I just wish we’d hear something from the doctor.”
    Barbara puts a hand on Lois’s shoulder. “God, I know, all this waiting must be so hard for you. It’s hard for all of us.”
    “We said a prayer for you the other morning at bible study, when you were at the hospital,” Trish says, adding another hand to her shoulder.
    “Thank you for that,” Lois says, smiling. “You know, we’re all worried about dying and leaving them alone, but…” She exhales. Tears well in her eyes. “It hit me the other day…what if it was the other way around?” She wipes her dripping nose on a tissue. “What would we do without them?” She looks at each of their faces, in turn. No one has a legitimate answer.