Page 34 of Hypothetical Heart
“I need you to go to the waiting room, Winnifred,” Dad tells me as he bursts through the door, me following closely behind. He only calls me Winnifred when he’s serious. “There are going to be things you’re not going to want to see.”
I know what he’s suggesting. If I see Mom in one of the emergency rooms and she dies, that’s going to be the last image I ever have of her.
Although, what I’m imagining right now is probably much worse than anything actually possible.
One nurse led me out of the ER and into a private family room, saying she didn’t want to make me sit in the actual waiting room by myself.
She tells me her name is Melanie, and that she’s going to stay until my dad comes back.
Nobody knows when he’s coming back, and the longer I wait here, the worse I start to feel.
It feels like hours I’ve been sitting here, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been staring at the clock, watching the minutes go by, I would have thought that’s how long I’d been here.
At 5:05, Melanie gets me a snack and a drink, making a comment about how I must not have eaten dinner yet.
I don’t eat it, and I don’t think Melanie takes offense when I don’t say thank you.
More time ticks by, and when the clock hits 6:22, I hear a sob out in the hallway.
I’ve never heard my dad cry before, and I have no real reason to believe it’s him crying in the hallway outside, but somehow, I just know.
And I know my mom just died. A single tear runs down my cheek.
A few minutes later, my suspicions are confirmed when the door of the family room slowly creeps open, revealing my dad. His navy scrubs are covered in blood. I know he tried to help.
Melanie leaves the room when I really start to cry.
“Winnie,” his voice trails off as he approaches.
I grip my chest through my shirt. The familiar feeling of suffocating has completely taken over my body.
Dad grabs my hand, kneeling in front of the chair I’m sitting in. “Try to breathe, honey.”
I didn’t even realize I wasn’t breathing until he was pushing my head between my legs, attempting to open my airway. I hear my gasping breaths. I feel my dad’s hand raking through my hair, but other than that, I’m numb.
“It will pass. Just try to breathe.” Dad’s crying too, his hand running up and down my back, as both of our tears fall onto the floor that I’m staring at.
I don’t know how long we sit there because I’m not staring at the clock anymore, but I know it’s long enough for me to feel my entire body go limp in my dad’s arms and for him to have to pick me up and carry me to a couch.
I know it’s long enough for Melanie to come back in and for Dad to ask her if she can bring him his stethoscope.
I’m not sure how long Dad sits with me, listening to myheartbeat every few minutes, asking me to breathe in and out.
Another doctor comes in, handing my dad a cup of coffee. “Do you think she needs to be admitted?” I faintly hear her ask.
“I’m not sure,” he sighs, taking a large gulp of the coffee. “We’re not going home tonight. I know that much.” I nod. I can’t walk back into my house, where there are pieces of my mom everywhere.
“Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” she asks.
“No, no. I should do it.” Dad stands, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind staying with her?”
“No, not at all,” the woman says, taking a seat where he was just sitting on the couch at my feet. “Take your time.”
I turn around when my dad leaves the room. I recognize the woman.
“What’s your name?”
“Elizabeth,” she replies.
