Mom. I remembered my last visit home, how she had taken me into her arms to say good-bye. The image filled me with a terrible pain. Elyas set his hand on my head and stroked my hair. When he tried to gently pull me toward him, I jerked back.
“Stop it,” I sobbed into my hands.
“Emely,” he said, sounding much closer than before. “Just forget that I’m usually a stupid jerk, OK?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want him touching me, and I didn’t want him consoling me.
He tried again, but when I jerked back again, this time he wouldn’t let me go. And I couldn’t resist. He carefully put his hands around my back and pulled me toward him. It seemed so wrong, so terribly wrong, but I couldn’t do anything but let it happen. I rested my face, still hidden behind my hands, on his shoulder. “It’s going to be OK,” he whispered into my hair. I sobbed softly, and he held me more tightly.
My nerves had reached their limit. I gave up my hopeless fight, and fell into his arms. Probably because I had forgotten who was holding me. Or maybe because of who was holding me.
He rubbed my back in a slow, even rhythm, and I started to feel reassured.
After a long time my sobs finally eased, and I sat up straighter. He pulled my hands off my face and wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Are they at Neustadt Hospital?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Can you wait a second?” he gently asked. I pushed his hands aside and wiped the rest of my tears off myself. Elyas stood up, got his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed. He kept an eye on me the whole time.
“Ingo?” he said finally.
Elyas and Alex’s father! Why hadn’t I thought of him first? Ingo worked at Neustadt Hospital. Maybe he would know more.
“It’s me, Elyas. I’m sorry I woke you up, but it’s really important.” He looked down and explained what had happened. Every word sent a fresh stab into my heart. Karsten, Carla, car accident rushed incessantly through my head. I was in a nightmare and couldn’t wake up. I never would—that was becoming clear. Because this wasn’t a nightmare. It was reality.
I winced as Elyas squatted in front of me again a couple of minutes later. He took my hands as he had before. “My dad is going to drive to the hospital right now and call when he knows more.”
I nodded because I had no clue what to say, but all my hopes lay with Ingo. You could always rely on him. I should have known he would drop everything to help my mother. Alex and I were always an inseparable pair, so our parents had gotten to know one another and had become good friends.
“And you,” Elyas continued, “need to pack a few things.”
I furrowed my brow, not understanding.
“I’m driving you to Neustadt,” he said.
CHAPTER 12
JOURNEY INTO THE UNKNOWN
Elyas kept his word. Even though I felt like turning down his offer, the imperative of getting home as soon as possible outweighed everything else. We drove and drove and drove, but the trip seemed endless.
It seemed macabre driving down the autobahn at incredibly high speed to make it to the hospital. But I felt oddly confident in Elyas.
My hands were buried in my lap, and I gazed with lifeless eyes into the dark night. I held that position for an eternity. The darkness beyond the pane of glass seemed as empty as the dull feeling in my head.
At some point I asked Elyas to turn on some music, because I couldn’t stand the crushing silence anymore. I needed some kind of noise to concentrate on. We were still waiting for Ingo to call back. Elyas tried to reassure me, saying his father hadn’t been able to learn more yet, because otherwise he would have called. I pretended to be reassured, but his words didn’t have any effect on me. Elyas was making a huge effort to hide his own worry, but I could tell he wasn’t nearly as certain as he was acting. It probably wasn’t the easiest thing, sitting in a car with someone you might have to share bad news with soon.
Was the night always so dark? The blackness swept past us, and we seemed to vanish farther into it with every yard we drove.
My phone had rung three times already. Elyas’s call to his father had woken up his mother, and Alena was the first to call me. She was consumed with worry, and even without seeing her, I could tell she was sitting in their living room holding a cup of coffee, waiting for her own phone to ring. Alena was an angel. No matter how upset she may have been by the bad news, her primary concern was still to reassure me.
I was currently unable to express my gratitude, but I would make that up to her later.
Alex was the second caller. She had listened to her answering machine and called me back immediately. It was a rare moment when Alex couldn’t find words. Never had I yearned more for her incessant chattering.
A couple of minutes later Eva was on the line. She felt terrible she had turned her phone off tonight, of all nights, and said my mother and I were in her thoughts.
I was a poor conversationalist for all three, though. My mouth repeated the pittance of information I had, like a tape recorder, and I could hardly remember what any of them had said. Soon we started seeing the first exit signs for Neustadt. My hands clenched tighter. The seconds passed torturously slowly. Ingo’s call, whether of salvation or doom, never came.
Elyas looked at me. He was probably wishing I would talk to break the silence. But I couldn’t.
Then it happened. The noise I had waited so long to hear: Elyas’s cell phone rang. My heart stopped—and then began racing at twice the speed. Maybe not knowing was better than knowing.
I looked at Elyas, whose face remained expressionless as he answered the phone. Unlike me he was able to pull himself together. He cleared his throat and answered.
“Yes?”
Silence.
“Uh-huh . . .”
“Hmm.”
“Good.”
I hung on his every word, searching for the slightest clue. Even a tiny twitch that might point to good news. But I couldn’t decipher anything.
“No, we’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
“OK, thanks.”
“Bye.”
Elyas hung up. Mom can’t be dead, I chanted as a silent mantra until Elyas started talking. “Your mother made it through surgery, and Ingo sounds very optimistic.”
I stared at him. “She . . . she’s . . . going . . . to be OK?” I asked deliriously.
“Things look good. She’s going to pull through,” Elyas said, smiling, turning me into the happiest, most stunned human being on earth. I shook my head and smiled. I took several deep breaths, and buried my face with relief in my hands. I was going to see my mother again. I hadn’t lost her.
Elyas put his hand on my back, giving final confirmation that I had truly not misheard him.
“Ingo will be waiting for you at the main entrance,” he said after a while. When I looked out the windshield, I realized we were driving through the parking lot in front of the hospital. I could see Ingo waiting as promised in front of the main entrance. What had I done to deserve so many people taking such good care of me? I would be eternally grateful.
The car slowed to a stop. Ingo ran over and opened my door for me, took my hand, and helped me out of the car. “You must be in total shock, Sweet Pea,” he said, gently holding my cheeks in his hands. “You’ll be wanting to see your mother right away,” he said, letting go and looking keenly in my eyes. I nodded, which is all I was able to do.
Ingo leaned through the open car door to talk to Elyas as I looked up at the hospital. What was awaiting me inside? What condition was I about to find my mother in? How severe were her injuries? Would I be able to see them?
“Thank you for driving her,” I heard Ingo saying. “Your mother is waiting for you at home; I called her to let her know the good news. She made your old bed for you. You’d better get some sleep before driving b
ack to Berlin.” Ingo smiled at his son, closed the door, and knocked on the roof of the car. Then he put his hand on my back and guided me into the building. I turned around when I heard the roar of the engine behind us. Elyas was already driving off.
“Elyas . . .” I put my hand over my mouth. “I didn’t even thank him.”
Ingo took my shoulder and led me in. “Don’t worry about that. He understands. You’ll have a chance to thank him later.”
It wasn’t right getting out of the car without saying thanks, not that it would have been sufficient anyway. By the time we reached the elevator, though, a switch had flipped in my head. All I could think about were my parents.
The nurses put me into a green surgical gown and green shoe covers before we entered the ICU corridor. The bare walls, sterile floor, smell of disinfectants—they made me queasy. This was a place no one entered who didn’t have to.
After we had walked halfway down the corridor, Ingo opened the door to a room.
I took a deep breath and followed him in. Then I saw her. My mother.
I stared at her for a long time as the penetrating, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoed through the room. It was almost hypnotic. Her body was littered with tubes. Some ended at devices, some in little vessels, some in IV bags. Her arms were stretched out next to her body. Her eyes were closed, and her face was as pale as milk.
I slowly approached the bed and took her hand—very carefully, as though I might crush it if I applied any pressure. She looked so fragile. The sight of her seared my retinas like glowing iron.
“Carla is extraordinarily lucky,” Ingo said as he stood at the foot of the bed. I listened without turning from my mother.
“An oncoming driver swerved out of his lane and somehow hit the passenger side of your parents’ car head-on. Your mother was trapped inside, and the paramedics couldn’t help her until the fire department arrived with the Jaws of Life. The vehicle had to be literally sliced open to get her out.”
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.
“A metal strut impaled her upper torso, but miraculously missed all of her vital organs. She lost a lot of blood, though, and her body is in extreme shock.”
I stared into my mother’s face, which was scraped up.
“It looked very grave for a while,” Ingo continued, “because the paramedics couldn’t get to her for so long. But after they got her out, they responded quickly. The operation went well, and there haven’t been any complications so far. It will take a while for her to get back on her feet, but she’ll be the same old Carla once she’s recovered,” he said with a smile. Not a word in the world could have expressed how thankful I was to the people who had fought for my mother’s life.
“I-I . . . I . . . don’t know what to say,” I stammered.
“You don’t need to say anything, Emely,” Ingo said.
No, it wasn’t as easy as all that. I felt an urgent need to say something, but my throat tightened and the right words wouldn’t sort themselves out. Instead, my father flashed through my thoughts. “What about my dad? How is he?”
“The driver’s side suffered less impact, luckily. Nonetheless, the crash occurred at a high speed, and his right leg is broken in two spots and he broke some ribs. His life was never in danger, but because of the shock, he’s been sedated and is spending the night in the ICU for observation. Later this morning, they’ll move him to a room in the regular ward.”
“Can I see him?”
“It’s better if you let him sleep, Sweet Pea. He’s OK. I think your mother needs you more right now. But I can go check on him again if you like.”
“Yes, please.”
“No problem,” he said, smiling. “I’ll talk with the nurse, and we’ll arrange for you to spend the night here.” I let go of my mother’s arm, ran over to Ingo, and gave him a hug, sobbing. “I’m so thankful to have you,” I said. By you I meant the whole Schwarz family, for once including the member I usually wished didn’t exist.
Ingo led me to the chair and bent over me with a smile. “Emely, you’re a part of our family, and that will always be so,” he said and kissed my forehead. “I’m sure you want to be alone with your mother now,” he said. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the room across the hallway, OK?”
I nodded.
“I’ll stop by in an hour or so,” he promised, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the door.
“Thank you, Ingo,” I called after him.
As he closed the door, I scooted my chair closer to my mother’s bed. “Mom,” I whispered, taking her hand. She looked so beat up, so battered, and yet so peaceful, as though she were only taking a nap. I gently stroked her cheek, trying to imagine what had happened.
I sat and looked at her. My nerves were finished. First the shock of the bad news, then all the hours of not knowing anything and oscillating between hope and fear, and now sitting at her side, knowing that everything had turned out relatively OK.
I felt like my head was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton batting, and everything that permeated it was muffled. But the chaos within me wouldn’t settle down.
My back was killing me, and I could sense brightness through my shut eyelids. Something was stroking my head, weakly, almost imperceptibly. I blinked my eyes open and saw only white. My mother’s blanket . . . I had fallen asleep with my head on her bed. I ran my hands over my face and rubbed my eyes, becoming more and more aware of who was touching my head. I jerked my head up and found myself staring into my mother’s brown eyes. She was awake. She was actually awake.
“Mom!” I grabbed for her hand as my eyes welled up. “How are you feeling?” She still looked as awful as the night before.
“Pretty well . . . I think,” she whispered with great effort. “The painkillers they have here aren’t bad.”
I beamed as tears poured down my cheeks. I sniffled and wiped them away. “Dad is all right; you don’t need to worry about him,” I said.
“I know,” she answered. “Ingo stopped by ten minutes ago.”
All I could do was look at her and smile. She was alive. She would still be with me.
Even if it took a while before she was back on her feet again, she was going to recover. That was the main thing. Nothing else mattered. My mother was a fighter, and she would pull through.
I squeezed her hand. “I was so afraid.”
“You didn’t think . . . ,” she whispered, “I’d kick the bucket before you got married, did you?”
The next tear rolled down my cheek and reached my lips.
“You’re impossible, Mom,” I said, pulling myself up to take her gently into my arms. She reached her hand up and put it around my back with a soft “Ow.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I said, straightening up, but she waved it off.
“It’s not that bad.”
Still, I didn’t think any more hugs were a good idea. I sat back down just as Ingo walked in.
How many hours had he been up now? Too many, judging by the bags under his eyes.
He came over to the bed. “I just wanted to say good-bye,” he said. “I’ll be back after I’ve had a few hours’ sleep.”
“Not just a few hours—sleep as long as you need!” I said.
He smiled. “Is that an order?”
“Yup,” I confirmed.
“Well, then I’ll have to obey.”
“There’ll be hell to pay if you don’t!” I said. I moved my foot and it hit something on the floor: my travel bag.
I didn’t remember getting it out of the trunk. Ingo and I had walked straight into the hospital, so it must have still been in Elyas’s trunk. How had it gotten here?
Looking around for an explanation, I noticed a bouquet of flowers on the nightstand next to the bed. “Do you have an admirer?” I asked my mother with a wink.
“Elyas dro
pped those off,” Ingo said. “He stopped by this morning before driving back to Berlin.”
Elyas had been here?
That shouldn’t have surprised me, what with all he had done last night. He had even remembered flowers, something Germans take very seriously, especially for hospital visits. These didn’t look like a cheap, five-euro bouquet from the gas station, either.
Elyas was full of surprises; that much was sure. I would have loved to thank him for all his help, but he had stopped by without waking me.
Ingo studied me for a moment and then chuckled. My confusion was evidently written on my face. “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but my son’s nice side does occasionally shine through.”
“Apparently,” I said. I would never have believed it, even a day ago.
“You can go see your dad now, if you’d like,” Ingo continued. “They’ve moved him, and he’s eager to see you.”
I looked at my mother. I didn’t want to leave her for a second, but I also desperately wanted to see my father.
“Go on,” she urged weakly.
“Are you sure?”
“Go,” she said.
I stood up and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back,” I promised. She nodded.
As I walked out the door, Ingo stopped me. “Don’t you want to know what room he’s in?” he asked.
“Oh!” I said, blushing. “That might be helpful.”
“Down one floor, room one fifty-six.”
“Thanks! Oh, and please give Alena a kiss for me when you get home,” I said, waving at them both and making my way back down the corridor. I took the elevator down a floor, found the room, and knocked.
“Come in,” my father said from inside, and I smiled. “Sweetheart,” he said, beaming as I entered.
“Dad!” I said, falling onto the bed and hugging him tightly. I tried to be careful, but as he hugged me back, he made a couple of tortured sounds.
“How you are feeling?” I asked, standing back up.
“Oh . . . ,” he said, waving me off just as my mother had. “I’m dying of boredom. To top everything off, they’ve chained me to this bed.” He pouted, pointing at his foot, wrapped in thick plaster.
Cherry Red Summer (Emely and Elyas Book 1) Page 18