Page 51 of Little Paper Games
“Jude…” My stomach dropped at the tone of her voice. Something was wrong.
“Mom, what is it? Is it Dad? Is it you?” I asked, tendrils of fear creeping into my stomach and taking hold of my entire being.
“No, no. Dad and I are both fine,” she reassured me. I felt that tension ease just a little. But if it wasn’t them… My gaze found the door again.
Kenna.
“Mom?” I asked. I couldn’t keep the trepidation from my voice. My hand gripped the edge of the counter so tightly my knuckles turned white.
“It’s Mitch, honey.” There were tears in her voice. This wasn’t good. This was incredibly bad. I wanted to run to Kenna. Right now.
“What happened?” I urged, my stomach flopping back and forth with nausea. On one hand, I was beyond relieved that Mom and Dad were both okay. But Kenna… I couldn’t even imagine what she must be feeling. All alone.
“He got sick last week. Just a cold, they thought, but…” Her voice trailed off on a choked sob.
“Mom?” I whispered. This was worse than bad.
“They’ve hospitalized him, honey. Audrey can’t even go with him, not with the pandemic. He’s on a respirator. It just… it just happened so fast.” The sound of my mother’s tears was breaking me apart inside. If it had been her, or Dad, I literally couldn’t let myself think about it. It was too painful.
“Is he going to make it?” I asked, taking a few deep breaths.
“We honestly don’t know. Honey, I’m calling because of Kenna. I know you two haven’t always seen eye to eye, but —”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ve got it. I’m on it. Don’t worry about a thing.” I prayed my tone would reassure her, and in turn that my mother could reassure Audrey. They must be worried sick.
“Thank you, honey. Please, please stay safe. Don’t go out,” she urged. I nodded for a few seconds before remembering that she couldn’t hear my head rattle.
“Of course. I won’t. Hey, Mom, I’ve gotta go. I need to check on Kenna, ‘kay?” The urge to go to her was unreal.
“Absolutely, son. Thank you.”
“And Mom? I love you.” My throat felt tight and thick with fear and tears combining. I cleared my throat, trying to cover my reaction a little.
“We love you too, sweetheart.”
We hung up, and I marched over to the connecting door, knocking softly. I waited a beat for an answer. The sound of footsteps, something. Nothing came.
I knocked a little louder. Still nothing.
Finally, I pounded on the door. “Kenna! Open up!”
That must have gotten her attention because the sound of the somehow annoyed pitter patter of her feet stomped their way to the door. I listened impatiently for the clicking and grinding of the many locks to unfasten before the door threw open, and there she stood.
“Hey, it’s not a good—”
I didn’t give her a chance to finish that sentence. I stepped forward, taking her into my arms and wrapping her up tight. She stood there in my arms, in shock, stiff as a board, for a full minute before pushing away with an angry look on her face. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. She’d been crying. I couldn’t blame her. I almost started crying at just the thought of it being one of my parents. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if it really happened to either of them.
“Lincoln, I’m serious. It’s not a good time. Just leave.” She fought me off, but I wasn’t having it.
“Lincoln? Just days ago, I was ‘Oh, God yes don’t stop’.” I wagged my eyebrows suggestively at her, my poor attempt at humor. The look on her face said it all. This was not the time for joking. One never knew in these situations.
“Not funny.” She scowled, but tears were already welling up in her eyes.
“Hey, I’m serious...” I began, but she wasn’t having it.
“Just go already!” She physically tried to shove me out of the door.
“No. I’m not leaving.” I stood my ground.
