Page 80 of Love Me, I Dare You

“Jackie, this is my sister Monroe,” I tell her, not sure what else to say. It’s awkward enough to be back here after my last visit was no more than the ten-minute conversation my father and I had, but Jackie’s called me twice in the last week, and left two voicemails I haven’t gotten myself to listen to.

I’d added myself as Franklin’s emergency contact instead of Monty, mainly because I didn’t want my brother to find out I came out here to see him. This morning as Monroe practically demanded I bring her out here, I was afraid we’d arrive and learn Franklin was no longer with us.

The pity on Jackie’s face as she looks between Monroe and me proves I might not be far off.

“It’s great to meet you, Monroe. Please, follow me.” I reach for Monroe’s hand, but she swats it away, stepping in front of me as we follow Jackie down the right corridor and toward Franklin’s room. Though just before we enter, Jackie halts, nearly making Monroe crash into her back. “Look, kids,” she says, her tone low and solemn. “I’m going to be honest with you. Frank’s not doing well. Things took a turn for the worst last night. It’s why I called you,” she says, turning toward me, referring to the phone call I ignored.

Monroe’s angry glare meets mine, a warning that she won’t forgive me if we’ve arrived too late. But it’s the moment we walk into the room that my stomach knots in a mess of anxious nerves. The sound of the oxygen machine fills the room. The steady soft hum of the compressor as it sucks air in and the hiss as it releases it through the tubes in his nose makes my skincrawl. It’s an eerie sensation, forcing Monroe to let out a sharp gasp as his bed comes into view.

Franklin’s connected to more machines than he had been last week, his thin frame barely visible through the hordes of medical equipment. Yet I can’t help but feel the mechanical hum of the equipment is a reassuring noise in the otherwise dreadful silence that meets us.

Monroe freezes at his feet, unable to move forward, but I step around her and walk over to the side of his bed. His eyes are open, though there’s no semblance of life in them.

“He can hear you,” Jackie says, as she steps beside Monroe, leaving her enough space so she won’t feel even more suffocated than she already does in the small space. “I’m just not sure he’ll respond.”

When neither of us says anything, Jackie excuses herself, letting us know she’ll be back in a few minutes to check on him. If she’s the nurse who called me last night, and is back here this morning, it means she was working around the clock to care for him. Jackie seems like the kind, caring nurse that would go out of her way to watch over someone who has no one else.

The way she speaks of him makes me feel like she’s grown to care for the old man.

The same feeling I had when I left him last week resurfaces when I look at my dying father. No sadness or regret for the things I did or said to him, but an overwhelming feeling of dread for what comes next.

I shouldn’t have brought Monroe. I can see that now as I watch her, tears brimming in her solemn eyes as she stares at the man she once loved and now resents. She was only a child and could never understand the magnitude of a fuck-up Franklin was for refusing to care for or even see his daughter. It may have been in her best interest that he stayed away, but it doesn’t make up for the fact my sister has probably grown up with a fear ofcommitment, trust issues, and a whole heap of trauma because the man in her life failed her.

“Izzy,” I call out as she slowly walks over to his side. Crouching over his beside, she reaches for him, gently taking his hand in hers, but she doesn’t say a thing. Franklin’s head turns just enough that his eyes meet hers. There’s no emotion in them, but he’s looking straight at her before looking up at me.

“I forgive you,” Monroe murmurs low enough that if it weren’t for the single tear that slips onto his cheek, I wouldn’t have known. “You may not need me too, but I want you to know I do. Not because you deserve it, but because we need to.” She cradles her stomach, and I’m afraid she’s about to vomit again or burst into tears.

Franklin sucks in a breath. The sound as he exhales reminds me of a tire, losing air right before falling completely flat. “Beau,” he mutters, looking up at me and I understand what he means. There’s no other reason he’d say any of my brother’s names.

The room grows cold and grim as Franklin Montgomery Bishop’s final breath leaves him. Jackie enters, shutting off the loud blare of the heart monitor, leaving us to wallow in the eerie silence wafting over us like a dark stormy cloud of grief.

Monroe stands back, allowing Jackie to stand at his bedside, placing a hand over his face and closing his eyes.

A single tear sheds out of my eyes, not from sadness but from the relief that washes over me. That is until I hear a loud clatter and turn to see Monroe lying on the ground at my feet.

Sitting in a hospital room watching Monroe fast asleep in her bed was not how I expected my day to go. After this turn of events, I’m completely exhausted.

There’s a peaceful look on my sister’s face as she sleeps, a sense of calm washing over me when I catch the slow rise and fall of her chest. My heart nearly gave out as I watched her fall to the floor after witnessing Franklin’s life leave him right in front of us.

It all happened so fast. In a rush of adrenaline, I fell to my knees, cradling her limp body in my arms as I tried to wake her. I could hear the shouts that left me, but the rest of the room was dark and blurred until Jackie came over to us and checked her vitals. The moment she shouted out to another nurse who entered the room that she found a pulse, relief washed over me.

I’d never been so scared, or felt so completely useless. The shift on the bed catches my attention as Monroe opens her eyes and sees me sitting on the couch. “Nash,” she murmurs, sitting up with a pained groan.

I jump to my feet and rush to her side. “Hey, careful. Don’t exert yourself too much. You need to rest.”

“You’re here?” she asks, under her breath, and I give her a soft, reassuring smile. Bright blue eyes brim with tears yet again as she watches me, cogs turning in her head, trying to make sense of why I’d be by her side when she’s been nothing but cold and distant with me.

“Where else would I be, Iz?”

The room she was admitted into down at the general hospital in Rivers Bend is small and homey. There’s a sofa bed on one side of the room beside a cabinet like closet, and a small round dining table with two chairs on the other. Like all rooms at the hospital, the attached bathroom is just to the left of the entryway.

After she wouldn’t wake, Jackie called an ambulance and had her transferred here just to be safe. To say it was the scariest thing I had to bear witness to was an understatement.

The door to the room opens and in enters an older woman wearing a doctor's coat and holding a clipboard. “Ms. Bishop,” she says as she approaches Monroe’s bed. “I’m Dr. Colbrooke, your attending physician.”

“How is she?” I blurt out, my tone deep and demanding, startling the poor woman.

“All good, Mr. Bishop.” She turns her smile back on Monroe. “Just a minor dizzy spell, given your situation. It's quite normal.” Monroe’s face pales as the woman continues speaking and I’m almost sure she’s about to pass out again. “Your glucose levels were slightly elevated, so check in with your OBGYN about that as you near your second trimester. They might want to monitor those more closely.”

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