|4:38 AM|
Natalie
“Do you think you could drive for an hour or so?” Brandon breaks the silence with the question.
“Oh yeah. I’m wide-awake.”
I pause to take the last sip of the Red Bull in the cup holder.
“Pull off here and we can switch off.”
As he puts the car in park, he turns to me and says, “Don’t go crazy with the speed, Natalie. Getting pulled over will only slow us down.” I roll my eyes. He is always lecturing me on my speed. I begin to wonder if that’s why he never lets me drive places.
I watch Brandon’s eyes start to close and his head start to fall back. I guess I didn’t realize how tired he really is until now as I watch him doze off so quickly. Glancing down at the clock, I notice it is 4:38 AM. My heart aches as I wonder how Mom is doing. I bet she’s exhausted, but trying to stay strong for everyone; especially Dad. I let my mind wander to Kristen. It’s a not so well-kept secret that my dad has a huge soft spot for her; I mean huge. Kristen has always been very different from Thomas and I, and I think my dad relates to her in some ways. He is always easier on her than he is with me, I mean really easier, and at times it’s hard for me to accept. I am constantly trying to impress my dad, whether it be graduating early, receiving another scholarship, or finishing the CPA exams in 4 months. Yet, Kristen simply finds a new murder mystery show and my dad is impressed. My cheeks wet with tears, I realize how petty I’m being. I know my dad is proud of me, and Kristen, and Thomas. Why am I always comparing myself to them?
I see the lights before I hear the sirens. Fuck.
Brandon wakes up immediately; pulled out of a deep sleep with the loud noises surrounding us. He doesn’t scold me; he simply adjusts his position to sit up and calmly watches me pull over.
It feels like it’s been hours until the police officer finally exits his car and makes his way over to mine. The car window is already rolled down bringing in cool air into the car, and my hands calmly placed on the steering wheel. His footsteps, slow but loud. The bright light shining directly into my eyes makes it hard to see. Is your flashlight really necessary? I blink my eyes a few times until I can finally make out his face. Every muscle in his face is tense; his lips pursed enough to create fine lines around his mouth. The heat of his eyes peering down at me make my hands tremor.
“Ma’am, did you know you were going 85 in a 55?”
His accent is clearly southern.
“No. I apologize, officer.” I’m being short. I’m too exhausted to even try to get out of this ticket right now. I just want to get back on the road, and make up for the time I’m losing now.
“License and registration please.”
I shuffle through my wallet and grab my driver’s license. Turning towards Brandon, I wait for him to get the registration from the glove compartment in front of him. The sound of papers being pushed around when he can’t find it makes my frustration begin to grow. How hard is it to find this piece of paper? Brandon finally grabs the registration and hands it to the officer. Not without me giving him a snarky look first. The officer takes the paperwork and goes back to his car. Great, more time wasted. I fall back into my seat, shoulders hanging low.
I hear Brandon mutter, “What is that look for?”
“I didn’t realize how hard it is to grab a piece of paper.”
“Natalie, I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I never looked for it before in your car.”
I throw my head back and turn the other way. I know he’s right. I’m wrong. Why am I lashing out at him? I only have myself to blame for setting us behind, yet I’m taking it all out on him. Perfect.
Watching the officer in the rear view mirror, he opens his car door and slowly makes his way back to my car.
“Ma’am whose car is this?”
Right when I think I’ve caught my breath, tears begin to well up in my eyes.
I can’t look up at the officer. My chin falls to my chest, and I feel the warmth of Brandon’s hand covering my hand. He still cares about me even when I’m being a total brat to him; I don’t deserve him.
“It’s my dad’s.” I whisper so softly I wonder if he can hear me.
“Where are you off to tonight, ma’am?”
The question makes the corner of my lips curl down. Slouching even more, I clear my throat to answer.
“My dad’s in the hospital.”
Letting the words set in, I take a pause before I finish answering his question, “I’m headed there now.”
My head is still facing my lap, but I can hear the officer slowly move backward. Without looking up, I know he is heading back to his car. More time lost-- great.
Shortly after, he comes back and hands me a piece of paper saying, “Ma’am, I’m only giving you a warning tonight. But you need to slow down; focus on getting there safely.”
Shocked, I look up to face him. His face less tense; his eyes softer than before. He gives me a nod and a half-smile. I guess people down south really are nicer.
“I hope your dad is okay.”
Yeah, me too.
|5:15 AM|
Dawn
I haven’t slept much. Maybe two thirty-minute increments. I toss and turn, hoping I’ll wake up to a different story.
I check the clock on the wall; it’s a quarter after five. Natalie must be getting close. I send her a text, “about an hour out?” I hope she and Brandon were able to take turns driving and sleeping. I need everyone to be well-rested. This is going to be a long day ahead of us.
One of the doctors late last night, or maybe it was early this morning, informed me that Corey had lost a lot of blood flow to some of his organs. His kidney and liver were the main discussion points. They would need to run tests later in the day to see which, if any, have been severely impacted. I remind myself to ask more questions today. I strategize; I will ask my questions during the day and be quiet during the night. This way I can ensure that I can sleep in the same room as him every night we will be here.
My phone pings and I quietly turn my phone to silent mode. I guess it doesn’t matter; he won’t wake up with all of the sedation he’s been given. My heart aches at the thought of it.
Natalie’s text reads, “Yes, be there soon. Any update?”
My fingers paralyzed over the phone’s keyboard, I think of how to respond back. Do I tell her the number of people funneling into the room every hour, still pricking at him, still giving him blood, still sedating him? I decide to send back a simpler, “No.” I understand there is nothing I can say or do to get her here sooner, so I sit back into the familiar chair and pull the blanket around me tighter. Trying to curl up and get comfortable, I allow myself to rest my eyes once more.
Forty-five minutes later, I wake up and immediately check for Natalie’s location. I can see on Find My Friends that she is only fifteen minutes away, yet she isn’t moving. I zoom into the map, trying to figure out where she is. Where could she possibly be? I copy her address into Google. The image of a Dunkin Donuts storefront is returned from my search.
Why would she stop? She is so close! Doesn’t she want to see her dad immediately? See me? I can’t stop myself from feeling hurt.
|6:02 AM|
Natalie
As we pull into Dunkin Donuts, I jump out of the car as fast as possible.
“Wait, up!” Brandon yells out to me.
“Hurry, we have to make this fast! We are so close.”
I want to surprise my mom with a coffee and bagel. I know she prefers Dunkin over any other coffee locations. It really did take everything inside of me to stop here instead of Starbucks. If I know my mom, she hasn’t taken a moment to eat anything, and I also know she won’t be able to refuse a sesame bagel with loaded cream cheese.
With the warm to-go bag in my lap, I text my mom, “Pulling into the parking lot.” Finally. We made it. She writes back right away, “ok. I will meet you by front desk.” I’m glad she is meeting me at the reception area. Hospitals freak me out, and I hate t
alking to strangers about why I’m there and who I’m visiting.
Brandon switches the gear and I watch the lite up ‘D’ switch to ‘P’. The car door feels heavy as I hoist myself out of the car, holding onto the door for support. My legs start to feel weak as we walk through the parking lot. I should’ve eaten something on the way over. My stomach is starting to fill with cramps. Is it the Red Bull I drank on an empty stomach, or are my nerves to blame for my discomfort?
I see my mom before she sees me. She looks like shit. Her hair is greasy and she’s tightly wrapped in a white, grimy blanket. I’m guessing she convinced someone to lend her a hospital blanket while she slept in the room with Dad. My dad always likes his room cold. I turn my head and squint my eyes, trying to take it all in. Somehow she looks smaller, weaker, more fragile. I stop in my tracks as I take in the sight. Am I ready to do this? Brandon must sense my hesitation because he turns to grab my hand and whispers, “I’m right here with you.” I roll my eyes and pull my hand away.
I have no idea why I’m doing this, absolutely none. I love this man. I’m thankful he is with me, but I can’t help my walls from sprouting up around my heart. I need to protect myself in all of this. It’s not big enough to let anyone in right now.
The automatic doors open and my mom turns towards me. The pain is obvious in her eyes; it runs deep within her. She starts to cry as soon as we catch one another’s eyes. I’m guessing she hasn’t done much crying until now because each sob is blaring. She is always trying to be too strong, but she knows that front wouldn’t work with me.
“Oh, sweetie. I am so glad you made it.”
She kisses me on the cheek and pulls me in for a hug. I nestle my head into her shoulder, and watch as my tears leave a wet mark on her shirt. As we part, Brandon gives her a hug and she shows us to the elevator.
“Natalie, the nurses said they would give you access to his room to see him. I know he would love to see you.”
I take a moment before softly answering, “I’m not sure I can yet.”
I am telling the truth. I’m not sure I can handle the sight yet; making the reality of it all really set in. When the elevator stops on the eleventh floor, I’m surprised to be greeted by empty seats, no one else is waiting to see loved ones. Then I see the sign reading, “Visitor Hours: between 10 AM – 5 PM.” How am I able to see him right now? Why do we have special privileges?
We find three seats near the window, and settle in. My mom holds small talk with us about the traffic and the weather driving here as I hand her the sesame bagel. I decide to leave out the part about being pulled over for now; I can’t see how that information will help the situation right now. Time is passing, and I know she is patiently waiting for me to change my mind about seeing Dad.
“I really think you should come in with me. It will be okay. I’ll be right by your side.”
What is with everyone telling me they will be right by my side? I don’t need anyone right by my side. I need my dad to stop bleeding and get out of this damn hospital.
“And… if it’s too much, we can step out.”
“I’m not sure.”
The thought of seeing the strongest person in my life so helpless leaves me with an uneasy feeling and sweaty palms.
“Natalie, the doctors have told us he can hear us when we talk to him. He can feel our presence.”
She’s going to guilt me into it.
“It lets him know we care.”
He knows I care-- doesn’t he?
“Okay, okay. Fine.” I see her face light up and a smile grows on her face.
“But if I don’t like it, I’m leaving immediately,” I add. I want to be clear so I don’t ruin any expectations she may have for me.
“Of course.”
She takes my hand and we buzz into the ICU unit together. The walk to his room feels gloomy and lengthy. Eyes to the floor, I try to focus on the specks on the ground, counting each one. I remember the mistake of looking up and seeing sickly patients the last time I was here visiting Kristen. That memory feels so far away now.
My mom pauses outside of Room 1B; my gut knows this is his room. She doesn’t say a word, but she takes my hand again as we step inside together.
I lose my breath as chills run through my body ending at the tips of my fingers. My body is paralyzed in terror of accidentally tripping and pulling a wire loose. Who is this person in the hospital bed? His fingers look blue, and I know his skin is cold without even touching him. This is not my dad; this can’t be my dad. This stranger has a tube down his throat and IVs everywhere. The man lying here is so swollen, I can barely make out his eyes. I can’t distinguish his neck from his face anymore.
I search around the room. I can’t figure out where the noise is coming from. It’s growing louder and louder. I want to ask my mom if she can hear the ringing, but words can’t be formed. Realizing I’m still holding my breath, I notice my vision getting dizzy. My legs are getting shaky. My throat tightening and my chest closing in on me.
I look back at my dad. How can my biggest protector in life look so hopeless lying on this bed? Fear is setting in and I can’t stop it from traveling through every inch of my body. Does he really feel my presence? Letting go of the breath I’d been holding in since I entered the room, I mumble, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..”
My mom comes chasing out of the room behind me. “Honey, it’s okay. Come back.”
She thinks I’m saying sorry to her. I had completely forgotten she was even in the room with me and Dad.
|8:54 AM|
Kristen
The phone ringing is ear piercing. Jolting up straight, I feel disoriented. Where am I? What day is it?
My brain begins to connect the dots. Disappointment setting in, I was hoping last night would turn out to be a dream, better yet, a nightmare. Before I fell asleep last night, I prayed I wouldn’t wake up in Thomas’ house. I prayed I would be at my parent’s waking up to bacon crackling and coffee brewing. I prayed I would walk downstairs, Oakley by my side, and see my dad drinking coffee at the kitchen table. Yet, here I am, waking up to the loudest phone call ever, reminding me that my dad is still in critical condition.
“Thomas! Your phone.”
I throw a pillow at his face to abruptly wake him up. We must have fallen asleep on his couch. Thomas rubs his eyes open, looking around the room before grabbing his phone. I wonder if he had a similar prayer last night. I can’t believe I slept as hard as I did. How am I able to sleep so peacefully knowing my dad is sedated and intubated? I try shaking the guilt from my conscience.
“Okay, we’ll head over now. Yep, okay.”
I look around his new place while he is busy on the phone. He is such an adult now. He bought this place a few months ago. Scanning his living room full of art work and home decor, I realize I’m not ready to have my own house with my own bills anytime soon.
“See you soon.” Thomas is wrapping up his phone call now.
“That was Natalie. She and Brandon made it this morning. I guess they went to Mom’s house to get some sleep, but...um, before they made it back Mom called telling them to turn back around. Dad is going into emergency surgery or something.”
I don’t have the desire to find out more; plus I don’t think he really knows anymore than that. I imagine the next steps before we moved. Us in the car, rushing into the hospital, rejoining my mother in the waiting room, no one knowing what to say. Without much thought, we hurriedly slip on our shoes and head for his car. I haven’t uttered a word since I woke Thomas up this morning and I decide to keep it this way during our drive. In the midst of silence, having plenty of time to think, I realize I haven't brushed my teeth or combed my hair. None of my daily maintenance routines seem important anymore. I rest my elbow on the edge of the window and prop my head up against my fist, staring out at the passing rows of trees while lost in my thoughts.
As we enter the hospital, I see Brandon first. He looks so out of place picking at his nail beds.
I’m sure he feels unsure if he should be here or not. My eyes fall upon Natalie next. Her skin pale, and her nose cracking from using too many tissues and not enough lotion. I remember Mom telling me she came down with a cold last week. Yet, I know she isn’t just sick from a cold. She doesn’t do well with hospitals. The smell of the sanitizer and unsettling feeling of a hospital would be enough to make her feel unwell. I remember feeling guilty every time she came to visit me last year when I developed CMV. I tried to tell her she could call for updates instead of coming in; I was too weak to even try to have a conversation. She would just sit in the corner, not say much and barely look at me. I don’t think she wanted to see how swollen and red my body had gotten from septic shock. She has the same pale skin now; her face and hunched body looks like she could vomit at any moment.
I go over and give them both a tight hug. Natalie doesn’t say anything, just holds me and then sits back into her chair. Brandon makes nervous small talk about their drive and asks how nursing school is going for me. He is trying so hard; I wonder if Natalie notices. Then, my grandparents enter the hospital. I wonder who called them. Grandma looks like she hasn’t stopped crying in months, her nose is raw and her eyes swollen from too many tears. Grandpa still has the uneasy look he wore yesterday plastered on his face. Neither of them are the most comforting sights.
Finally, my mom emerges from the elevator. We all face her.
“They just took him back.” She goes to grab a glass of water, but her shaky hands drop the cup. A tear sheds from her eye and falls onto her cheek. She’s exhausted.
“What happened?” Natalie finally speaks.
“I just saw him. What happened?” She keeps going on as her voice grows with intensity.
“I don’t know.” My mom sounds so weak.
“Well, you have to know. You were the only one in the room. What the hell happened?”
Why is she raising her voice? Natalie and my mom never fight. I look at Brandon, who looks like he wants to simply disappear now. Earlier, he tried to hold her hand but she pulled away. Are they having relationship problems?
“Natalie, knock it off. If she says she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know,” Thomas hisses back at her.
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