Page 58 of Running Into You
“Exactly.” She sniffs and I take a minute to really look at my sister. Her long hair is piled on top of her head in a ponytail. It’s the same color as mine, but much curlier. She’s wearing a Ziggy Stardust T-shirt she’s had for at least a decade. It’s worn to the point that there are holes in the hem. She’s in sweatpants and flip-flops, so I’m guessing she was at home and had to leave quickly.
“Tell me what happened.”
She sighs, then describes the events of the day. Apparently, Dad had a fairly typical Saturday. He’d gotten up early to work out and was golfing with clients by 9:00 a.m. He spent a few hours in his home office working in the afternoon before taking mom out for dinner at one of their favorite local restaurants. He started to feel discomfort in his chest at supper but shrugged it off, thinking that it was heartburn. The discomfort continued after they got home, and he decided to go for a short walk to see if that would help. Mom went with him, thankfully. They weren’t two blocks from home when he dropped to his knees and mom called the ambulance.
We’ve reached Dad’s unit at this point. Rilla has teared up again from retelling the story and I give her a minute to collect herself. She wipes at her eyes, making the black eyeliner smudges worse.
“Did you happen to talk to Betty? I called her, but her phone went straight to voicemail,” I ask her. I tried her twice on the drive but didn’t leave a message. This wasn’t something I wanted her to hear on a voicemail.
“Same. I left her a message to call me when she gets it.” She rubs her face, and I can see how exhausted she is. When she looks up at me, her expression is one of confusion. “You called her too?”
Shit. I want to talk to Rilla about Betty, but this could not be a worse time to do it.
“Yeah. I was going to see if she wanted to come with me. For you.”
“Thanks, Joshi. I would have liked that.” Before I even know what’s happening, she’s thrown her arms around me again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I know, Crone.”
The unit is dimly lit. I guess that’s fair; it is well past midnight and most of the patients must be asleep. I follow my sister to a dark room, the door mostly closed over. She slowly pushes it open partway and the hall light enters the room enough to fall on my mother. She’s sitting in a chair with her coat wrapped around her shoulders. She looks up, squinting as the light hits her, then quietly stands and walks into the hall. I wrap my arms around her, then loop Rilla into the hug as well and the three of us stand in complete silence.
“I’m sorry, folks, but you really need to go home. Visiting hours are long over and our patients need their rest.” I look up to see a woman in scrubs wearing an ID badge. I’d put her in her mid-fifties, and she looks like she could also use some rest. I don’t know how nurses, or anyone for that matter, work night shifts. Rilla and my mother both open their mouths to protest, but I cut them off.
“I’m taking them home now. Thank you for taking care of my father. You have no idea how much we appreciate everything you’ve done.” I watch her thaw a bit at my words. “What time can we come back in the morning?”
“Visitation begins again at 9:00 a.m.” She smiles warmly at me, then at my mother. “He’s doing well and the more rest he gets, the better. We’ll call you if anything changes.”
My mother nods and weakly mouths “thank you” to her. She grabs her coat and purse from the room, stopping for a long moment at the end of my father’s hospital bed. I enter the room to stand beside her and see him for the first time. The sight almost knocks me backward.
My father is what I always thought of as a giant of a man. Even when I grew taller than him, I still thought of him as bigger than me in every way. Seeing him laid out on a bed with guard rails on it, with various tubes and wires coming out of him, all hooked up to different machines, it makes him seem small and vulnerable. Which makes me feel small and vulnerable. I hate it.
My mother rests her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her back. I steer her out of the room, keeping my eyes on my father until I’m out the door.
“I don’t want to leave,” my mother says once we’ve cleared the unit and are on our way to the exit.
“We all need to get some sleep. We’ll come back first thing in the morning,” Rilla promises, looping her arm through moms.
“What if he wakes up and I’m not here?” Mom asks, wringing her hands as she walks.
“What if they discharge him tomorrow and you’re too exhausted from staying up all night to take care of him?” I say, taking her other arm in mine. The three of us walk as one out of the hospital into the cold night air. “Let’s take my car. We’ll get yours tomorrow.” I hold the door open so Rilla can climb into the backseat of my two door Honda Civic and once she’s settled, I move my seat back into its proper position and climb in. “I can’t believe you didn’t call shotgun.” I grin at her in the rear-view mirror, and she flips me off before leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mom says from beside me as she buckles her seatbelt. “But darling, I wish you had driven a bit slower to get here.”
Chapter 34
Josh
None of us got more than a few hours of sleep. I convinced mom to take something to help her fall asleep, promising that I would keep her phone beside me in case the hospital called. Thankfully, they didn’t. In the morning, we were all up and showered by 7:00 a.m. I had been in such a panic to leave yesterday that it didn’t occur to me to pack a bag. As a result, I’m wearing the jeans I came in and one of my father’s sweaters. I’m taller than him, but he’s wider, so it all works out.
We’re quiet on the drive to the hospital. My mother twists the handle of her purse between her hands, and I put my hand on hers and give them a reassuring squeeze. The hospital is a different type of beast altogether during the day. There are patients and staff everywhere in the lobby, which surprises me as it’s Sunday, but then I guess healthcare doesn’t get to close for the weekend.
Visiting hours don’t start for another forty minutes, but the nurse at the desks says we can go on in. The lights are on, the curtains are open, and the private room certainly looks bigger than it had in the dark.
My father is sitting in bed with an untouched hospital breakfast tray in front of him. He’s examining a newspaper with a furrowed brow that eases when he notices our arrival. If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it.
“Please tell me you brought food,” he says, casting a look of disgust at the oatmeal in front of him.
At this, Rilla climbs onto the bed to sit beside him, throwing her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. He wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head, then nods at me. “Son.”
