Part 1The Phone Call

My boyfriend and I both got acute appendicitis after a bad meal. His parents drove 300 miles overnight to be with him. His mom sat by his bed, crying, while his dad rushed around paying bills and picking up prescriptions.

My parents, who live in the same city, finally called the next day. Their voices were full of concern.

"Oh, sweetie, you scared Mommy to death! How did this happen? You poor thing.

"Is the surgery over? That's good! Well, honey, we're not going to come down. Your brother is a senior this year, and we can't leave him. Insurance should cover most of it, right?

"Do you have enough money? If not... maybe you could ask a coworker for a loan?"

* * *

I was on a video call with my boyfriend, Michael, when a pain like a power drill shot through my stomach. On the other end of the line, his voice was weak.

"Jenna, my stomach is killing me. I think I need to go to the hospital..."

"Me... too..." The pain made me break out in a cold sweat. I could barely hold my phone.

We both ended up calling 911 and, in a strange twist of fate, were admitted to the same floor of the same hospital. Michael was in room 308, I was in 312.

The surgery went well. When the anesthesia wore off, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. The nurse said I needed someone to stay with me, at least for the first night.

"Should I call your parents?" she asked kindly.

I shook my head and fumbled for my own phone. "Mom..." my voice was as faint as a whisper.

"Jenna! What happened?! Your aunt said you were in the hospital? You had surgery?" My mom's voice was frantic.

A lump formed in my throat. At the end of the day, she was still my mom. She still cared.

"Yeah, acute appendicitis. They operated last night. I'm feeling a lot better now."

"Oh, my God, you scared me to death! What happened? Did you eat something bad? Oh, my poor baby girl, you've been through so much!"

She went on and on, her voice full of worry. The self-pity I'd been feeling washed over me, and I almost started crying. "Mom..."

"Well, as long as the surgery is over, that's all that matters! Oh, you kids... you're giving your father and me a heart attack!" she continued.

I gathered my courage. "Mom, the nurse said I need someone to stay with me tonight..." I was hoping she'd say, "We're on our way."

But her tone shifted. "Jenna, honey, look... the surgery's done, you're fine... It's just... it's a real hassle for us to get down there. And your brother, Tyler, has his SATs coming up. This is a critical time for him. We can't even let him eat out for a single meal. We're just... we're swamped."

My heart sank.

"Oh... it's okay. You guys are busy." My own voice sounded hollow.

"Oh, good! I'm glad you understand! Oh, by the way," she said, as if just remembering, "the surgery, insurance will cover it, right? Do you have enough money? If not, maybe you could ask a friend or a coworker for a loan to tide you over?"

After I hung up, I stared at the ceiling, the tears finally falling. The woman in the bed next to me looked over, concerned. "Honey, you don't have anyone to stay with you? I can call for a private nurse if you want."

I shook my head, my voice hoarse. "Thank you, ma'am, but I'll be fine."

Just then, the door creaked open. It was Michael, slowly making his way in, pushing his IV stand. "Jenna, how are you feeling? My parents are here. They brought a ton of food. Want some?"

Behind him stood a middle-aged couple. The woman was carrying two insulated containers, and the man had a bag of fruit.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Davis..." I struggled to sit up.

"Oh, honey, don't move!" Mrs. Davis rushed over and gently pushed me back down. "Michael told us you both got sick at the same time! What are the odds? How are you feeling? Still in pain?"

I shook my head, my nose starting to sting again.

"I made some chicken soup," she said, opening one of the containers. A rich, delicious aroma filled the room. "I simmered it all morning. It's very nourishing. You should have some."

"Thank you, Mrs. Davis. You really didn't have to."

"Nonsense! Michael told us you're here all by yourself, with no family nearby. It's our pleasure to help." She ladled some soup into a bowl, carefully blew on it to cool it down, and handed it to me.

My hand trembled as I took the bowl. Through the steam, I saw the genuine concern in her eyes, and I wanted to cry. "You're so kind," I whispered.

"Silly girl. When your parents aren't here, we're your parents." She patted my head. "If you need anything, just let us know. Don't be shy."

Mr. Davis was peeling an apple, expertly cutting it into small slices. "It's tough for you young people, working so far from home. It's when you're sick that you need someone the most. Michael's mom took a week off to take care of him, and I'm using my vacation time."

I listened, a mix of emotions churning inside me. We were both their children, in a way. Michael's parents could take a week off to care for their son, but mine couldn't even be bothered to visit.