Page 28 of Woman on the Verge

I squeezed in next to him in bed, snuggled into his side, feeling like a little kid again.

“I know,” I said. “I’ve been here all day too.”

He shifted in bed to look at me and said, “You have?”

Once they admitted him, I assumed he’d have his own room, but he didn’t. There was a curtain divider, with an older man on the other side who had a Filipino translator and, from what I could gather, a problem with his liver.

I texted Merry, told her they were getting my dad settled.

Merry: They must have some idea what’s wrong with him.

They don’t.

My phone buzzed with an incoming call—Merry.

“Let me talk with the doctors,” she said.

“They’re not here. They have other patients. They do rounds.”

“Well, how long are we supposed to accept their inconclusiveness?”

“As long as we need to. They have to do their thing. We are not doctors.”

“Should I come there?”

“I’ll stay until he gets some dinner. It’s probably best if you rest tonight and start fresh tomorrow. He’s tired anyway.”

“Is that Mer?” my dad asked from his bed.

I nodded. “You want to talk to her?”

He extended his arms out for the phone, and I gave it to him. They talked about practicalities, which is what they’ve always excelled at. There was discussion of Merry bringing him his pajama pants and some tortilla chips. He also told her to make sure Medicare was “springing for all this.” When he gave the phone back to me, Merry was no longer on the line, which was just as well.

I sat at his bedside, waiting for them to bring his dinner. He fell asleep. A notification from Facebook popped up on my phone, a message from Prisha, my high school friend who had told me to bring my dad to the ER. Actually, calling her a friend might be going a bit far. We were acquaintances. Her parents did not condone her having friends because she was always supposed to be studying (which I guess paid off, considering she is now a doctor).

Hey. Just wanted to see how things were going with your dad ... and how you’re holding up. I get off my shift at 6 if you want to get food or a drink or something. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.

I debated responding and telling her that she was the only person in my life to check in on me. But I decided that sounded rather pitiful and instead wrote:

I definitely need a drink. Tell me where to meet you

She suggested a bar in Union Square, a few miles from the hospital, and I told her I’d be there. Then I texted Kyle because even though Iwas irritated with him, I missed the girls, and he was my only direct line to them.

How are things there?

He responded almost immediately.

Fine. How are things there?

I was already exhausted by this text exchange. Kyle has never been good with texting, and I have never been good at accepting this.

Ok. My dad was admitted to the hospital. They don’t seem to know what’s going on. We’ll see what all the testing turns up. What did you guys do today?

He responded with one word:

Park.

I could have turned this into a fight by making a snarky comment likeThank you for the detailed account.But instead, I didn’t respond at all, which I knew wouldn’t have any kind of effect on him but still felt satisfying.

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