Page 59 of Little Paper Games
“Put it on speaker.” It wasn’t a question. For whatever reason, I didn’t argue.
“Hey, Mom,” I started, pushing the button for the speaker. The sounds of her barely restrained tears made my stomach not just drop. It fully hit the floor with panic and fear. I wasn’t ready. Jude’s hand was suddenly in mine, and I looked up to see him kneeling beside me. With me.
“Kenna…” her voice cut off on a choked sob. The bad kind. The prepare-yourself-for-the-worst-news-possible kind.
“Mom?” I questioned. Suddenly, I was four years old again, looking to my mother with all the fear of the world locked up inside me. Ready for mommy to save me.
“The respirator didn’t work, honey. He’s on a ventilator. It doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”
The phone dropped from my hand and hit the floor. My eyes fixated on the sofa across from me. The ugly teal and green and brown floral pattern that I had found at that thrift shop years ago. The one I had hired a company to professionally clean, terrified of bed bugs and more. With the money I had spent on cleaning services, I could have opted for a better couch. But something about the ugly pattern called to me. It had needed a home. This had been a good home for it.
I faintly heard Jude’s voice in the distant background. Likely talking to my mother or his. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.
I stayed focused on that ugly couch with the terrible flowered pattern. The one that reminded me of the shirt Dad wore on our vacation to Hawaii. That’s why I had bought the ugly couch. Because in this ugly piece of furniture lived a memory of my dad. I needed my dad here with me in this new phase of life. I couldn’t think of anything else. Just that couch and that vacation and that shirt. That was enough for now.
Chapter 18
JUDE
Isat there, writing down notes from Kenna’s mother, then from my mother, and finally from a friend of mine who had gone to medical school. I wanted to understand so that I could explain it to Kenna. My eyes lifted from the pad of paper I was writing on and found her, still sitting in the chair and staring at the sofa with an odd smile playing at her mouth. It was unnerving. Had she had a breakdown? I couldn’t blame her if she did. My own stomach was in knots. So much so, the next person I was calling was my own father. Just to hear his voice for another minute.
My parents were both fine, but Kenna’s parents were like a second set of parents to me. They always had been.
“Do you need anything, man?” Vincent asked me. I shook my head before remembering that he couldn’t see me.
“No, this was perfect. Thank you. Just trying to understand.” I wiped my hand over my face. I wanted to wash this entire day away like a bad memory. We hung up, and I sat there for a long moment, just watching her. She sat there in a daze, and I wanted to let her do what she needed and shake her back to normal in equal measure.
I was dialing my dad’s number without even realizing it.
“Hey, son.” His voice, hoarse from unshed tears yet full of love and compassion, just about broke me. I spun away from Kenna and leaned my forehead against the wall.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Hey, son. Hey. It’s okay. I know.” His voice soothed me. Just hearing that he was okay felt better, but it made the pain I knew Kenna was feeling all the more sharp and brutal.
“How is Kenna? Have you talked to her?” he asked with true concern.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m with her now. She’s… I don’t know, Dad. She’s staring off like she’s in a trance.” I sniffed, audibly clearing my throat and hopefully clearing the tears away at the same time.
“Remember that people process news like this differently. It could just be her trauma response, Jude. Just be there for her. While we can’t, please be there for her.”
“Like there’s anywhere else I’d be, Dad. You raised me better than that.” There was a feigned chuckle in my voice. But the gravity of the situation hadn’t eased in the slightest.
“I love you, son.” I took a steadying breath at his words. I needed them like a salve on my breaking heart.
“I love you, too, Dad.” This situation was one we just weren’t prepared for. Even when I’d heard the news that Mitch had been hospitalized, I didn’t think it would come to this. Not really. But here we were.
With a deep breath, I made my way back to Kenna, crouching before her at eye level.
“Kenna?” I asked softly, not wanting to startle her. She remained focused on that sofa.
“Kenna, can you hear me?” I waited for some kind of response. Anything. Nothing came.
“Kenna, I know this is a lot. I know you don’t want to talk. Just give me some sign. Any kind of sign that you can hear me. That you’re there,” I urged. I kept my voice quiet, but I was getting more worried for her by the second. It had been almost an hour since she’d received the call.
I waited.
“Kenna? Please,” I begged, my eyes searching over her face for any sign that she was still okay.
