Page 78 of Kiss My Glass
Danny’s not said anything but I know he feels guilty that he wasn’t around when his brother needed him. Soft top’s up on my car, so he’s rolled down the window, hoping the fresh air will sober him up faster. He wasn’t that drunk, so he should be fine by the time we get to the hospital. Which will be in about six minutes.
“Dumb question,” he says. “But are you okay?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I don’t. I’m angry and scared and struggling not to feel like I’m somehow to blame. That my emotional outburst last night caused Shelby so much stress that this was the result. I’m struggling not to turn my anger against other people, which is a bad tendency I have when I’m really wound up. I snapped at Danny, and I shouldn’t have. He’s probably my only friend and ally in this whole awful situation and I do not want to push him away.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be,” he replies. “Itwasa dumb question.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him.
“Ditto.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze, and then he says, “Um…”
“What?” I try really hard not to snap again, but my patience is at an all-time low.
“I’m terrified of needles,” he says. “Like, pass out when I see them type terrified. When Dad was in hospital, I had to ask the rest of the family to run interference, give me a warning any time it looked like a nurse was going to whip one out.”
Not what I expected. “How do you cope with blood tests?”
“Avoid them at all costs,” he says. “Childhood vaccinations were enough of a nightmare.”
“So do you want me to help out today?” I ask. “Tell you when you need to clap your hands over your eyes?”
“Ava will do that,” Danny says. “And when Cam arrives at the hospital, I can hide behind him. I just wanted you to know in case you suddenly noticed I was acting weird.”
“Okay…”
I sound distracted because I am. When Cam arrives at the hospital, he’ll have Mom with him. In my panic, I’d completely forgotten. I’ll get to see her today after all. Thanks, Worse.
We’re here.
Martinburg General is a small hospital, but well appointed, mainly because it’s in a high socio-economic area where everyone has full health insurance. Our family scraped to afford a basic plan because the financial consequences of not having it would be way worse. But when Dad got cancer, we’d have been screwed without generous donations from friends and extended family, and even our winery clients. Which sucked, but it also proved how much Dad was loved. Shelby’s covered now because Nate’s parents’ wedding gift was a comprehensive health plan, premiums paid for the foreseeable. Sounds coldly practical but let’s face it, it’s of way more use than a matching set of cookware.
I park, and switch off the engine, and find I can’t move. Everything about me feels stupidly heavy.
“Heads high,” says Danny, gently. “We’re here now. No point in beating ourselves up with what-ifs.”
A rush of gratitude spurs me to pull him to me and kiss him as hard as I can. He tastes like beer, which is excellent. But much as I’d prefer it, we can’t sit here kissing all day.
“How much do I need a breath mint?” he asks, when I release him.
“Personally, I love eau de IPA,” I say. “But we should probably both grab some Tic Tacs from the hospital store.”
“Ready?” Danny’s observed that I’m still hesitant.
“Nope. But let’s do it, anyway.”
Visiting hours are up to eight at night here. I know, because towards the end of his life, I spent as much time as I could with Dad. I remember hating seeing that it was almost eight and knowing I’d have to leave. When I say I spent as much time as I could, it should have been more. I’d just started with my law firm and hadn’t yet proved myself so valuable that I could take a whole lot of compassionate leave. Plus, as I might have mentioned, I don’t do well around collective grief. My most treasured memories are the brief moments when Dad and I were alone. If he was sleeping, I’d rest my head on the edge of his bed and just be with him. I?—
Goddamn it, I’m bawling.
“Come here.” Danny folds me into his arms and lets me soak his shirt with my tears. “It’s all going to be okay, you know. Shelby and the baby will be fine.”
He doesn’t know that for sure but I don’t care. It’s what I need to hear. I fumble for a tissue in my bag and wipe my face. Bet I look a mess.
“You look gorgeous,” says Danny the mind-reader, with a smile. “You are the most gorgeous woman I know, and I could not adore you more.”
