Page 60 of Desperate Haste

“That’s us,” Reese says, taking a step forward and I follow. The doctor looks at us and probably has so many questions about how we’re family when we look nothing like him. With me, being a nearly six foot Asian and Reese being an elderly Black man who hardly hits my shoulders. But that’s the thing about family, they don’t always have to look exactly like you or share your DNA to love you as if you do.

The doctor pushes out a breath and gives us a somber expression. “He’s waking up but he’s weak. You can go in and see him, but only one person at a time, please.”

I look at Reese. “You go, let him know we’re all here for him. I’ll go in once you’re done.”

He gives me a tight smile and a nod and bows his head to the doctor before following her down the hall towards his room. I fall back into the seat next to Ophelia who watches me with concern. I try a smile but I’m sure it comes off as more of a grimace than anything else. When she takes my hand in hers, she squeezes it twice before we go back to silent comfort. When Reese comes back after a while, I can see that fresh tears have stained his cheeks.

“He’s asking for you,” he chokes out. Bailey, who is seated next to Hank and my friends, stands and walks to place an arm under Reese’s.

“Why don’t we go for a walk outside, Mr. Dawson? I think some fresh air would be good,” she soothes and Magnolia stands to go with them.

“I think a walk would be nice, thank you ladies.” Before they walk away, Reese steps towards me and grabs my forearm. “He loves you, Malcolm, remember that.”

All I can do is nod and try to swallow the knot in my throat to respond. I feel Ophelia’s hands wrap around my free arm and I look at her and try to find any sense of solace in her deep brown eyes.

“I’ll walk down with you.”

We head in the direction of his room and once we reach it, I run my finger along the paper label with his name on it.Marshall Westing.The impact of his name and everything he’s done for me hits me like a ton of bricks. I clench my jaw and set my shoulders back as if doing so will stop the wave of uncertainty from taking over my insides.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” she soothes before pushing up on her toes and planting a kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you, little fox.” My thumb runs along the back of her hand before I drop it and walk into the hospital room.

I nearly fall to my knees when I see him. Laying flat in an oversized bed that dwarfs him with ease, he has cords and tubes connected to him in multiple spots and his eyes are closed. It hardly even looks like he’s breathing. As I take in all of the machines that are around the room, my dislike of hospitals and memories of my past nearly overtake me. But this isn’t about me, it’s about Marshall. He was there for me when I needed him most and I’ll do the same for him. I carefully walk around the hospital bed he’s lying in and sit in the chair that’s been pulled up next to him. When I lower myself into it, his eyes open warily and find me.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he croaks, giving me a feeble smile.

“And you look like you got run over by a bus,” I jab back, trying to get him to laugh. He does, but his laugh is quickly followed up by heavy breathing and him trying to regain control of his lungs. I wait for his breathing to steady and try to figure out what to say to him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chastises.

“Like what?”

“Like you won’t know what to do with yourself when I’m gone.”

“Gone? You’re not going anywhere, Marshall, you’re going to be fine. The only place you’re going is home or to Butcher and Block. Maybe even the training center. You—you can’t be gone.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can even process what I’m saying or what he said.

‘When I’m gone.’

“I admire your determination, son, always have.” His eyes close again and he sucks in a few deep breaths, each one seeming to require what little strength he has left to do so. “I’m going to need you to keep leaning on it for me. Think you can do that?”

“Anything. I’d do anything for you. Just like you have for me.” My hand reaches for his and I clench my teeth together so hard my jaw begins to throb. He gives it a shake and I feel like I’m holding nothing but a piece of paper between my fingers.

“I know you will, Malcolm. You’re a good kid. Always have been, even when you get a little lost.” He opens his eyes and looks at me out of the corner of them and it’s as if he’s looking straight at my soul.

We sit in silence because the words I want to say to him are stuck in my throat like a rock. But they feel bigger than that, they feel like a massive boulder has lurched itself into my throat and is preventing me from saying everything I want to say to him. The thanks he deserves to hear from me. How much he saved me and changed my life in the last five years. How I wouldn’t be who I am or where I am if it weren’t for him. But instead of saying any of that, I say nothing and just sit quietly next to him, holding his hand and looking anywhere but his face because looking him in the eye is almost as painful as forcing the words out.

“Is your girl here?” he asks after several long minutes.

“She’s not my?—”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he scoffs, swinging his head towards me and if I’m not mistaken, rolling his eyes at me while he does.

I swallow hard before answering. “Yeah, she is.”

“I’d like to talk with her, if that’s okay.”

“Why do you want to talk to her?”

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