Page 114 of Gravity of Love
Catastrophic diagnosis and regrets?
He regretted chasing the fast track, the way he’d crushed through his accelerated program in three years just to impress his dad, to prove that he had the Sterling gene for excellence. He regretted every time he’d chosen school over home, the way he’d missed damn near every family dinner until there were no more left to attend.
He regretted leaving Frankie—fuck, how he regretted that. He replayed the morning he’d left her after the funeral. Not because he wanted to. Because he was terrified at his feelings and disgusted with himself. He thought she’d be better off without him. He regretted every second he spent telling himselfthat he was protecting her, when in reality he was just punishing himself for what he’d perceived as an unforgivable, unfixable mistake.
He regretted never meeting his biological father, the man whose existence forever tainted his family. He’d told himself he didn’t care. He tried to convince himself that it was just genetics and nothing more, but in the end, his entire life had been shaped by ghosts and secrets. He was a collection of other people’s wounds, stitched together with lies and pride.
He regretted so many things, but right now, sitting in that ugly green chair, he regretted nothing more than the time he’d wasted hating his dad. All those years spent resenting his old man’s silence and resenting a childhood that his worth was measured in achievements, and he was made to feel his love had to be earned, only to come up short on both. Liam wasted his entire life trying to exceed the expectations his dad had held him to just to spite him, and now, now when he finally saw the man behind that cold, unattainable, detached façade, and understood that he wasn’t the man he thought he was and would never get a chance at a clean slate? When for the first time he felt like he’d met his dad, the man, not the role he’d been playing or the mask he’d worn, and now he was going to lose him?
Two drops splashed on the white LVT floor between his feet. Liam hadn’t even known he was crying until he saw them, that was how unaware—how detached he felt from himself. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, furious at himself for feeling this much, yet not feeling anything, at the same time. For not being able to switch it off the way he did with every other problem and go downstairs. He wanted to pull Frankie into his arms and hold her, but he couldn’t. He wanted to comfort Cora, but he couldn’t. He wanted to walk back into the OR, shove Dr. Khan out of the way, and fix his dad himself, but he couldn’t.
He was stuck in a fluorescent-lit box, waiting for news that could change his life in one sentence.
The door creaked open, and he flinched, mind racing through every possibility. His next breath froze in his airways, but his body’s response was a false alarm. Dr. Jackson walked in. He was a pediatric surgeon.
Dr. Jackson’s expression registered surprise to find a former colleague in the waiting area, as he passed by him and walked over to the couple in the corner. Liam watched as the man and woman shot out of their chairs and looked up at the doctor with all-too-familiar Obi-Wan-hope. Liam had looked into thoseexacteyes hundreds of times. He’d had to walk out to families and loved ones who looked at him with those eyes, silently pleading with him thathewas theironlyhope. And he knew the horrible truth, that no matter how much hope, how much faith, how much prayer, crying, threats, money, begging, bribing or bargaining that couple had done, the outcome had been decided before that door opened.
Liam watched as the man and woman both exhaled the exhale he also knew well, and he found himself exhaling right along with them. It was a breath of relief. The woman collapsed in her chair, sobbing with a smile spread wide across her face as the man shook Dr. Jackson’s hand, thanking him repeatedly before pulling him into a hug as if he’d just saved his life, which Liam realized Dr. Jackson had actually done one better.
When Liam got a good look at the man’s face, he recognized the couple. Their son, Josh, if he remembered the name correctly, was a nine-year-old with lupus and had been in the emergency room several times with complications from his condition. The last time Liam treated him he was going into renal failure, and had been on a list for a donor, he must have received a kidney and just had a transplant.
As happy as he was for the kid and his parents, and he was truly happy, Liam really hoped the hospital hadtwomiracles in it today, even though he knew it didn’t work that way, and he wasn’t even sure he believed in miracles.
Dr. Jackson left, and the couple in the corner fell into each other’s arms, held each other and cried. Liam couldn’t begin to imagine what they’d been through, but he did know that they’d gone through ittogether.
Liam ran his hands through his hair, he knew he didn’t have any control over what the outcome of his dad’s surgery was, but he did have control over some things, like his relationships. If he’d learned anything the past couple of weeks, it was that those were the most important things in his life. The people. Relationships. Nothing else mattered. From now on, he was not going to shut people out, to live on his island of one, as he’d been accused of doing. It would at least have two inhabitants, if he had anything to say about it.
32
Frankie pressedher forehead to the cool plexiglass of the vending machine. Something about the moment—the exhaustion, the hum of fluorescent lights, the sterile scent of the corridor combined with the faint whiff of disgusting hospital cafeteria chicken noodle soup—made her want to cry and laugh at the same time.
As she stared at the Snickers bar she’d paid for that was dangling in front of her, taunting her and not falling, she wondered if this was the truest metaphor for her life to date. She saw exactly what she wanted, she’d put her money in and pressed the right buttons, but it still wasn’t hers.
“You’re being dramatic,even for you,” she scolded herself. “This isn’t about you.”
Did she know that to be true, that this situation wasn’t about her? Sure.
Was her mind still spinning out with what-ifs? Of course it was.
Did that make her a horrible human being? Absolutely.
Could she help it? No.
She’d spent the last three hours orchestrating the emotional triage of her family, and the result was a low-grade menty b that threatened to tip over into either hysterical tears or maniacal laughter depending on what minor catastrophe happened next.
Her mom had finally passed out. Frankie wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol she’d drunk at the reception or the Valium Yaya had slipped her. Frankie freaked out a little (a lot) when she found out, explaining it was dangerous, not to mention illegal, to give someone prescription medication that wasn’t theirs, especially without their knowledge. But Yaya just threw her arms up and said if anything happened, they were in the right place, and to let them try and arrest her. She would say she was a confused old lady and thought she was giving her the Tylenol. Frankie was too tired to argue with her, and if there was anyone in the world she was willing to go down for as an ‘accessory after the fact,’ it was Yaya.
Niko was in what Frankie had named his P-P-P loop. He went from pacing to panicking, to pretending everything was fine, trying to make jokes and lighten the mood, then back to pacing and the cycle started over. Part of his anxiety was because Dr. Sterling had been the only father Niko ever really knew. But another part was because no one had been able to reach AJ. He wasn’t in his cabin or answering his phone. Whenever Niko couldn’t get ahold of his brother, it made him stressed. Frankie wondered if it was a twin thing because she wasn’t stressed, and she wasveryoverprotective of her brothers, especially AJ.
Tristan was genuinely a mess. She actually felt sorry for him. He was doing his best to be strong, but his dad was in open heart surgery, and he’d already lost his mom. Right before Frankie excused herself to get sugar sustenance, Emmanuelle had shown up though, so at least he had some emotional support.
Yaya was knitting and regaling everyone with the medical history of each patient she’d ever visited at the hospital and howgood the doctors and nurses were. Mr. Santino had been by. He was currently on an errand getting her ‘good slippers’ from her house.
“There she is.” Frankie heard a familiar voice behind her. “I thought I was going to have to send out a search party.”
Frankie turned away from the vending machine and saw Zee standing at the end of the hallway like an apparition conjured by the neediest parts of her brain. He was dressed in his signature shade of support group-chic, a long, camel trench over a black turtleneck, his head covered in a stylish beanie.
For a split second, she wondered if she was hallucinating, if exhaustion and hospital-grade caffeine were collaborating to gaslight her.
