Page 106 of The Silence Between

“What emergency?” I asked, bitterness seeping through. “Dad's been absent for years. The last 'emergency' was him showing up drunk at our apartment threatening to take the kids.”

“The filing claims he's completed rehabilitation and established stable housing. It argues that your current situation with multiple jobs, school starting, and Mari leaving for college creates instability that his 'recovery' could address.” Damien’s disgust was evident. “It's garbage, but it's professionally packaged garbage with Townsend's fingerprints all over it.”

My phone rang before I could respond. Riverton Memorial Hospital, a number I knew too well from years of crisis calls. My hand shook as I answered.

“Is this Leonel Reyes?” the clinical voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Reyes, I'm calling regarding Gloria Reyes. She was brought in approximately thirty minutes ago following a suspected overdose. Her condition is critical, and as her emergency contact, we need you to come in as soon as possible.”

The world tilted sideways, sound fading to a distant roar as my knees threatened to buckle. Damien grabbed my elbow, steadying me as I somehow managed to confirm I'd be there, mechanically ending the call and staring at the dark screen as if it might offer some explanation for this fresh hell.

“My mother,” I said, voice hollow even to my own ears. “Overdose. Critical condition.”

Damien’s face softened with genuine concern. “Go. I'll handle the continuance motion and text you updates. Family comes first.”

Family comes first. The mantra that had guided every decision for a decade. But which family? My dying mother who had chosen drugs over her children repeatedly? My siblings who might need to say goodbye but would be traumatized by seeing her in critical condition? My father who would undoubtedly use my absence from court as evidence of irresponsibility?

There was no right choice. No path forward that didn't involve devastating someone.

“I need to call the kids,” I said mechanically, though the thought of explaining this to them threatened to shatter what little composure I had left.

“Let me drive you to the hospital,” Damien offered. “You shouldn't be driving right now.”

I nodded, following him through the courthouse hallways like a sleepwalker, deaf to his reassurances about the hearing. Outside, late autumn sunlight seemed obscenely bright against my darkening thoughts. I tried Ethan once more as we reached Damien's car, the call again routing to voicemail.

“Ethan,” I said, voice cracking. “It's me again. My mom's in the hospital. Overdose. They say it's critical. I... I don't know what to do about telling the kids. I could really use...” I trailed off, unable to articulate exactly what I needed. Support? Advice? Simply not to be alone in this impossible moment? “Just call me. Please.”

The twenty-minute drive to Riverton Memorial passed in a blur, my mind cycling through terrible scenarios. Would Gloria die before I arrived? Should I pull the kids from school to say goodbye? Would seeing her like this create more trauma than closure? And underneath it all, the courthouse clock ticking toward a hearing that could tear apart everything I'd spent ten years building.

The emergency room entrance loomed before us, its automatic doors opening to the antiseptic smell I'd come to associate with the worst moments of our lives. I walked toward the reception desk on autopilot, Damien a steady presence beside me.

And then I saw them.

Miguel and Townsend stood near the nurse's station, deep in conversation. My father looked surprisingly sober compared to this morning, his clothes changed, hair combed. Townsend wore a suit, his expression grave but somehow satisfied, like a chess player seeing his strategy unfold exactly as planned.

I froze mid-step, understanding breaking over me like ice water. This wasn't coincidence. Somehow, they'd known about Gloria before I had. They'd positioned themselves here deliberately, creating a perfect storm where I would be forced to choose between my mother's deathbed and my siblings' custody hearing.

“Leo.” Townsend noticed me first, his voice carrying false sympathy. “Such a terrible situation. When Miguel called me about Gloria's condition, I felt it my duty to provide support during this family crisis.”

Miguel turned, and the performance of sobriety slipped just enough for me to see the glassy eyes behind it. Not drunk, but not clean either. Just functional enough to play the concerned ex-husband for hospital staff and legal purposes.

“Son,” he said, stepping toward me with open arms. “They won't tell me anything because of that restraining order you got. Your mother needs us now.”

I backed away, bumping into Damien who steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. “What's going on?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “How did you know she was here before I did?”

“Gloria called Miguel this morning,” Townsend supplied smoothly. “She was in distress, reaching out to her husband. He tried to help, but unfortunately arrived too late.”

The lie was so blatant it momentarily robbed me of speech. Gloria hadn't voluntarily contacted Miguel in years. The restraining order had been her idea, during one of her brief periods of clarity.

“I need to speak with her doctor,” I said, stepping around them toward the nurse's station.

“Mr. Reyes?” A woman in scrubs approached, clipboard in hand. “I'm Dr. Patel. I've been treating your mother. Could we speak privately?”

I followed her to a quiet alcove, vaguely aware of Damien running interference to keep Miguel and Townsend at a distance.

“Your mother's condition is critical but stable for now,” Dr. Patel said without preamble. “The overdose was severe, multiple substances involved. We've managed to stabilize her, but she remains unconscious. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.”

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