Migraines

You have gotten migraines since you were a child, but you think they are under control. You don’t even tell me about your history of migraines until one causes you to throw up at work. You can’t see well enough to get home, so one of your co-workers drives you. When you tell me, I tell you that you should have called me. I would have left work to get you, I say. I am worried because you are worried.

I loan you my car one afternoon so you can get to a doctor’s appointment at a hospital. The doctor does not know what is wrong. There are tests to run. You must return. You must stop working. You text that you will stop getting high. I think these migraines may be a gift. You ask if you can make a copy of my car key. Of course, I say. You leave my car for me to use when I am done working, and you take a train home. You have wrapped your hospital ID bracelet around my rearview mirror. I consider leaving it there.

Read more: http://www.spectermagazine.com/published/creative-nonfiction/william-henderson