Page 33 of Hypothetical Heart
It's one of my favorite memories with Logan and mymom. It’s clear how much he loved my mom, and now that I know he still cherishes these types of memories in the way I do, I have a little more understanding of how hard it would be to forget her, especially with how much time everyone around me spent with her.
It’s just a fear I’ve always had. One that will take lots of time to get over.
“Every time we came up from under the water, we were both laughing so hard.” He nods.
“We finally convinced your mom to join us, and that’s when we realized we were using the pieces of foam completely wrong.” Both of us laugh. “After that, we got a lot better at not nearly drowning ourselves.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt grateful to have Logan in my life, but it might be the one that pummels me the most.
It’s like he knows exactly what to say and how to say it in order to make me feel better.
When I bury myself in my thoughts, Logan is always the one to stand over me with a shovel, ready to dig me free.
10
The only full memories I have from the day my mom died are all the extremely normal aspects of it.
It’s always been odd to me that the only things I remember about the most traumatic day of my life are the parts of it that happened every other day.
I remember leaving for school that morning, saying bye to Mom as I walked out the door. I remember the ride to and from school with Logan and his mom. Even down to the smallest details, I can recall exactly what I wore that day and what dance we practiced in ballet.
But the last thing I remember is walking through the front door of my house, just like I had done every other day, and thinking it was eerily quiet.
Flashback: 3 years ago
“I’m home!” I call through the foyer as I open the coat closet and hang up my backpack.
I make it all the way through the kitchen and livingroom before I hear the sounds of rushed screaming. “I’ll be there soon! Tell them I’ll be there soon!” It’s Dad.
I’m taken aback. Dad never yells. “Dad?”
He comes out of my parent’s bedroom and into the living room. “I don’t give a fuck if I’m not allowed to operate on family members! I’m the best heart surgeon in Connecticut, and my wife—” He stops yelling into the phone when he sees me.
“What’s going on?” I ask, sensing something is terribly wrong. “Where’s Mom?”
My dad’s face pales at the question. “I have to go. My daughter is home,” he says, voice void of any emotion. “I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up.
“What’s happening?” I ask again.
“Winnie, we have to go,” he says sternly. “Come on.”
I don’t question it. I follow him out to the car, and before either of us even put our seatbelts on, he’s pulling out of the driveway.
“Winnie, I need you to listen to me,” he says, grabbing my attention. “Mom has been in an accident. I have no idea how bad it is or what the circumstances are, so I need to warn you, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” My voice cracks. “Is she going to die?”
When he said,I have no idea how bad it is,I didn’t think he meant she could be dead. I thought he meant he didn’t know if she had a broken arm or something of smaller caliber.
She can’t be dead,right?The police would be at the house if she was dead.
When he doesn’t answer, I really start to cry.
“I don’t know, Winnie,” he says, but it’s buried in a deepbreath. “There are a lot of worst-case scenarios, but we won’t really know until we get to the hospital.”
The rest of the drive is silent, besides Dad telling me not to tell Weston. He’s in college in California, and telling him would only upset him when there’s nothing he can currently do.
When we get to the hospital, we park at the ER entrance. I know we’re not supposed to, but Dad has special privileges being the head cardiac surgeon, so he knows he won’t get in trouble.
