Page 90 of The Breakaway

I shook out my hair, running my fingers through it. It was getting longer, shaggier. I kind of liked it this way, too.

I jumped when the phone rang and scrambled to pick it up.

“Sharla? What’s going on?” Rob was out of breath.

My thoughts were a tangled mess, and I struggled to find the words. “My dad. He had a complication. They had to take him back to the hospital.”

Rob’s tone shifted. “Where is he? Do you need a ride?”

I didn’t want to inconvenience him. He told me he still had work today. “He’s at the hospital in Calgary.” At least it wasn’t all the way to Red Deer.

“I’m on my way.”

I hung up and went to my closet, grabbing the first clothes I could find. Rob walked in ten minutes later. He was already showered, so he dropped his gear, and we left the house together.

We drove to the hospital in silence. I stared out the window, my mind and heart completely numb. I paused when Rob parked the truck instead of dropping me at the front. “You don’t have to?—”

“Don’t. I’m coming with you.” Pressure built behind my eyes as I pushed my door open. Rob reached out and held my hand as I forced my feet to move, each step feeling like I was dragging my legs through molasses.

I didn’t pull back. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt like support, and I needed it.

Inside, the waiting room was a sea of sterile white walls and uncomfortable plastic chairs. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and a TV mounted in the corner played a muted news broadcast.

I hated it there. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and sickness and dying. My dad shouldn’t be there so close to Christmas.

Rob and I walked up to the nurses' station, and a nurse with dark circles under her eyes and a name tag that read "Debbie" looked up from her computer. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see my dad. Norman Barnes."

Debbie's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Barnes, Barnes . . . Ah, here we are. Room 312. Just down the hall and to the left."

"Thank you." I forced a smile, then started off with Rob falling in step beside me.

As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the small details. The way the nurses' shoes squeaked on the floor, the soft hum of voices, the pattern on the linoleum tiles. It was all so clinical, so impersonal.

We passed a room with the door slightly ajar, and I caught a glimpse of an elderly woman lying in bed, her chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. A younger woman sat next to her,holding her hand and whispering something I couldn't make out. My heart clenched, and I looked away.

Finally, we reached room 312. I paused outside the door, my hand hovering over the handle.

Rob squeezed my hand, then dropped it. “I’ll wait out here.”

I nodded, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

My dad sat up in bed, his face pale but alert. He looked better than I’d expected, but the sight of the IV in his arm and the wires attached to his chest sent a shiver down my spine. My mom, sitting on a chair next to him, perked up as I entered.

"Hey, kiddo." His voice was raspy, but he managed a smile.

"Dad." I rushed to his side, not quite sure where to stand. "What happened?"

Dad shook his head. “Nothing, really. Just had to get a little medication.”

I laughed. Only he would describe staying overnight in the hospital as “nothing, really.” I turned to my mom. “What’s the truth?”

Her smile wobbled. “He's doing much better now, but they wanted to keep him for observation. He should be discharged in a few hours."

I nodded, my mind reeling. "So he's going to be okay?"

She nodded, her eyes glassy. I exhaled in relief. “Okay.”

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