I don’t need to ask any further questions. I know what she’s implying, and it’s a reality I’m unwilling to face.
“Can you hold the ambulance until I can get there? I’m fifteen minutes from the hospital.”
“Of course. We’ll see you shortly.”
Driving as fast as possible without getting a ticket or killing an innocent bystander, I make it to the hospital in record time. Running to the elevators, then down the hall my footsteps echo with a hallow thud on the floor. When I reach the seventh floor, I find his parents standing outside his room talking to Dr. Sandhar.
I don’t stop to talk. Brushing by them, I close the door to his room behind me.
“Hey, baby. Why are you so out of breath?” he asks me, eyeing me closely.
“Were you really going to leave without me?”
“What are you talking about, Piper? I can’t even walk. How would I leave you?”
Holy.
Freaking.
Hell.
He doesn’t know. I wonder how his parents thought they could slide this one by him without acknowledging what’s going on. I hold up a finger, still dragging in air to fill my unhappy lungs. Stepping back out the door, I close it behind me so Moby can’t hear the conversation I’m about to have.
“He doesn’t know, does he?”
Patty, the speaker of the house, says, “We didn’t want to tell him until the last minute. There’s no need for him to worry any more than he has to.”
“Are you kidding? He’s an adult, Patty. How long have you been here that you’ve made all of these arrangements, and Moby doesn’t have the foggiest notion you’re sending him away?”
His dad chimes in, “There’s no need to get huffy, Piper. We have Moby’s best intentions in mind.”
“His best intentions? That was leaving his wife behind while he went to Charleston, hours away from home?”
“Calm down, kiddo. We got here early and had time to talk to the doctors.” His dad is really starting to irk the shit out of me.
“You got here early? How did you get in? Visiting hours don’t start until nine.”
“His nurse on the night shift let us sneak in.” Fucking Asten. I will be so glad to not have to deal with her anymore.
“This really is the best decision for him, Piper.” I want to smack the smirk right off his mom’s face. I hate being this way. I’ve never had cross feelings toward her, but she’s on the top of my shit list at the moment, right below Asten.
“With all due respect, Patty. It’s not your decision to make. My husband and I will make that call. Excuse me.”
This charade with the door, in and out, in and out, is getting old. Poor Moby has no earthly idea what the hell is going on.
“You okay?” he asks when I come back in.
I squint as my eyes adjust to the light. Apparently, it’s always dark in here, I guess to allow patients to rest.
Sitting on the bed, I chew on my bottom lip in an attempt to figure out how to broach the subject.
“Spill it, Pipes.”
“Dr. Sandhar wants you to go to Charleston for the brain stent.” He doesn’t need to know what his parents’ opinion on the matter is or that they tried to initiate it without me here, it’ll upset him, and that won’t benefit anyone.
“When? Is this a recommendation or are you saying I have to have it done?”
“They want to move you now. The doctor said they aren’t equipped locally to take care of your needs and need to have you in a facility that has the capability.”
“But if we go, it is with the intention of putting in the stent?”
Meeting his eyes, he sees my trepidation. I nod my head tearing a hole in my lip with my teeth as I gnaw on it trying to ease the anxiety.
“Do you think I should have it done?”
“I don’t know, Moby. I don’t think I can make that decision for you. They will be running a stent into your brain. There are always possibilities of complications. You know that.”
“So you’re not going to discuss it with me?”
“I’m flustered. I don’t know. I thought we would have more time to talk about it. Discuss it with the doctors. I didn’t think we would be rushed into a decision. I don’t know why they didn’t call me last night.” I can argue both sides but find myself arguing mentally against it just to spite his mother, but that’s not fair to Moby. “I don’t think we have to make the decision about the stent right this second. The truth is if Regional can’t handle your needs we need to be somewhere that can. If that’s MUSC, then I guess we need to go.”
He focuses on something just past me, deep in thought. I wait patiently for him to say something, not pushing him into a decision but wondering what the hell we’re in for going three hours away from home where neither of us will have a support system. Hell, I don’t even have any clothes. I left the house without my purse in my haste to get here, so I have nothing with me, no clothes, no money—just me and the car.
Turning his attention to me, he confesses, “I trust your judgment, Pipes. If you think we need to go, then we go.” His eyes are stormy, unsure. It breaks me to see him this way.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Leaving the hospital is more of a blur than reality, although I’m sure it happened, I’m in a fog trying to figure out how my axis flipped. Following the boxy ambulance, as we make the three-hour drive to Charleston, I ensure I never lose them. The driver was clear, if there’s a problem, if Moby needs medical attention they can’t provide, they will go to the nearest hospital. If I’m not behind them, I could be halfway to Orangeburg before I know they’ve detoured.
I send up a silent prayer when I look at the gas gauge. The full tank is about the only positive thing I have going for me. Since the doctor had already postponed the ambulance to wait for me to get to the hospital, they didn’t wait to allow me to go home to pack a bag. I have nothing—no money, no purse, no clothes—for an undetermined amount of time in a city I’ve only vacationed in. I’ll figure out what to do about necessities after I know Moby is safe.
His parents indicated they were going to go home to pack and would meet us at the hospital later. They didn’t offer to call anyone, although they probably will; they didn’t ask if I needed anything. At the time, I wasn’t thinking five hours in advance. Once we get on the road, I start to make calls, letting my Fish know what’s in the works, Moby’s brothers, the Wrights…I need to contact them all. As much as I want to call my friends first—let’s be honest, I need to whine a bit about the entire situation—I don’t. I call Joey.
“Hey, Piper. What’s the word? How’s Moby?” Joey’s normally a fairly laid back guy, he and Moby have very similar personalities. Their primary goal in life is to make people smile, to see them happy. I hate hearing the anxiety and trepidation in his voice.
“Well, I don’t really know. I wanted to call you to let you know we’re on our way to Charleston. The doctors are transporting him for the brain stent.” I try to keep any emotion from coming through. If Joey thinks I’m upset, he will overreact and right now there’s nothing to react to.
“Jesus. When did you leave?” I imagine Joey standing at work, running his hand through his blond hair, his dark brown eyes going wide. The muscles flexing in his arm as he starts to pull on his locks in frustration.
“About ten minutes ago. You were the first person I called.”
He lets out an audible sigh. “Thanks, Pipes. Any idea how long he’s going to be there?”
“No clue. But I wanted you to know so you don’t go to Regional after work today, and if you want to come to MUSC, I can call you when we get there to let you know where we will be.”
“I don’t have any time left. I used my last sick day yesterday.” He had rotator cuff surgery a couple months ago and used all his vacation and sick time to heal.
“It’s okay, Joey. I just wanted you to know. I’ll make sure to keep you posted.”
“It’s not okay.
Look, let me see what I can work out. My boss is pretty cool. Shoot me a text when you get there to let me know a floor and room number. If I can’t get there tonight, I’ll be there Friday.” The frustration in his voice is palpable.
“Good. I’ll text you later. Oh hey, can you let your family know what’s going on for me? Moby’s parents might have already called them, but I don’t want anyone left out.” He readily agrees.
After hanging up with Joey, I start the laundry list of calls, first to Cam. I have no idea what she’s going to say about me leaving for an indeterminate amount of time from work. In addition to not having any clothes or money, I don’t have my laptop to work remotely.
“Hey, Cam.” I try to sound more upbeat than I am, but it comes across as fake as it felt.
“That bad, huh?” She’s sympathetic which I appreciate.
“No, I mean it could’ve been way worse, right? I could be planning a funeral instead of driving to Charleston.”
“Why are you driving to Charleston?” Her irritation fades as I explain the events of the last fifteen hours.
“Does Dax know?”
“I don’t know. If you haven’t heard from him, I would assume not. Patty and Nate were really strange this morning. It was like somehow we were in competition with each other instead of rallying together in Moby’s best interest.”
“Dax said she’s having a hard time not being the decision maker in Moby’s life and Nate’s trying to reel her in, but you know how mothers can be. I don’t think it helps you guys moved so quickly through the courting phase. She didn’t have time to adjust to her new role.”
“Oh my God, are you kidding me with this shit? He’s thirty-two years old, Cam. He’s not eighteen. He’s a grown man!” I’m on edge, normally very slow to anger; everything is setting me off in record speed today.
“I’m not saying it’s rational, Piper. I’m just telling you what’s going on. Dang, you’re testy today. What gives?”
I don’t bother with the whole how would you feel if it were Dax. I guarantee Dax wouldn’t be asking me that question. Not after what he went through with Cam’s attack. “It’s just been a trying day. Look, I didn’t call to fight. I needed to let you know where I would be and at this point, I have no idea when I will be back to work.”
“Understood and not a problem. You can work from anywhere. I wish you were here, but that’s just because I’m selfish and like having you around.” Her sincerity brings a real grin to my lips.
“Yeah. About that. Since I had no notice I was going to Charleston, I don’t have my computer with me. Or money or clothes.”
“What?” she’s shocked although I don’t know why. I told her how my morning had been, and I didn’t mention anywhere in that scenario having gone home to pack a suitcase.
“Nope. Nothing.”
“Okay, let me start calling the girls. I have the board meeting tomorrow so I can’t leave until after that, but I’m sure one of us can go by your house and get there tonight. I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks, Cam.”
“Not a problem. I’ll call you back. Keep your phone on you.”
I wonder where she thinks my phone would go in my car on a three-hour trip, but I don’t ask. “Love you, Fish stick.”
With Joey notifying the Wrights, Dax and Moby’s parents handling the Coopers, and Cam calling the Fish, my parents are the only ones left on the call list.
That call went relatively well. My dad listened as I told him about the morning, Patty needing to continue to breastfeed Moby until he’s forty, and my current issue of no money or clothing. Neither he nor my mom can come until Friday because they have no one to run their business. Fucking shoot me.
I’ve made this drive countless times over the years, and it’s always one I enjoyed: the anticipation of the beach, the sun, a peaceful week or weekend waiting for me on the tail end of the trip. It’s normally a serene journey; the closer you get to the coast the more trees surrounding the roads and the fewer cars. The air changes—it’s thicker somehow and has a salty smell. The two-lane highway has always comforted me but today it seems long and desolate. The trip seems endless. Maybe it’s the inability to stop to stretch my legs or go to the bathroom for fear of losing the ambulance.
I haven’t heard back from Cam, but Moby’s dad sent me a text telling me they had just booked a room, they were packing and will leave in a few hours. I don’t bother responding, I just close my eyes and chew on my lip at their nonchalance.
When my phone finally rings, I’m anticipating Cam but see Rachel’s name instead.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Okay, so here’s the deal. I’ve got someone who wants to look at the townhouse tonight. They’re looking for a cash purchase, which obviously would be very beneficial given the current situation. I tried to reschedule, but the girl is driving into town and not here yet. So that option is a no-go. I can cancel the showing and hope she’s still around when I get back, or I can come to Charleston tomorrow.” She dumps an enormous amount of information on me leaving me silent. “Piper, are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I was just thinking. No, don’t cancel. You’re right; we need to sell the townhouse now more than ever. What time is the showing?”
“Seven.”
“Sounds good. Call me and let me know how it goes.”
The list of people who might accompany Moby and me through this ordeal seems to dwindle with every call. I can’t handle his parents alone for two days until my cavalry arrives.
When Cam finally calls me back, the outlook is grim; Friday is the estimated time of arrival. Cam and Dax will leave early Friday morning, Joey can’t leave until Friday after work; he will have Jacob with him; Julie is out of town on business. Sutton has Reserves this weekend and is leaving for Fort Benning tomorrow; the Army doesn’t give a shit who she knows in the hospital. Rachel is dealing with the property stuff, and Charlie has finals. The Cooper’s will be here sometime today, but Brooks and Landis won’t be joining us until this weekend.
I understand everyone has other obligations, but it hurts to think I will be alone. Yes, Moby’s parents will arrive sometime today but for the first time in years, I feel like a child dealing with adult issues. I’ve never faced medical issues of monumental proportion, and I’ve never done it alone.
The drive seems over before it started, odd since it felt like it took forever. As the ambulance pulls into the entrance to the emergency room, I find the parking garage. MUSC is nestled in the heart of downtown Charleston. There’s little to no parking, anywhere, and every street is one way. It’s a maze of concrete. I can see the sign to the parking garage, but it takes forever to actually get to it. Pulling in the entrance, I take a ticket to get the arm to lift on the gate, noting the sign above announcing the twelve-dollar per day cost to house my vehicle here. With no clue how I’ll pay the parking fee when I’m ready to leave, I find a space before racing inside.
The emergency room is chaotic at best and under renovation leaving few rooms for the multitude of people needing assistance. I see Moby still on the yellow stretcher the paramedics moved him here on nestled against a wall in an overcrowded hallway.
Pushing my way to him, I kiss his forehead in greeting. “How was the ride?”
“Fantastic if you like being strapped to a gurney for three or more hours with people constantly checking your blood pressure and shining bright lights in your eyes.” Normally, Moby would be cracking jokes about the circumstances, trying to make light of them so I didn’t worry, but today he’s weary. His spark is absent.
I chose not to indulge his depression. “So what now?”
“The guy who brought me in went to check in with the nurse, I guess.”
I stand next to my husband in the crowded hallway, watching the scene around me unfold. I’ve never been in an inner city hospital; the hospitals around Greenville are fairly quiet. This is what I imagine one to look like in Detroit or New York, not an old Southern tow
n. The drunk arguing with a nurse doesn’t have a room, another woman asking for pain medication although I see nothing wrong with her outwardly, and a man who appears dead is parked in front of Moby.
He senses my apprehension in this unfamiliar environment. Taking my hand, he says to me, “We won’t be in here long, baby. They’re just checking me in to move me to a room.”
I nod in understanding noting the time on the clock. It’s two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Nothing here is comforting, not even my husband’s touch. The crackle of two-way radios frays my nerves and cart crashing to the hard floor nearly has me out of my skin. It stinks in here but I’m not sure I want to identify the bodily fluid I’m smelling.
I want to go home.
The paramedics who brought Moby here come back handing me a large package, one of them tells me, “These are all his records from Regional including the CT and MRIs. A nurse will come get them and Mr. Cooper to take you to a room.”
“Any idea how long that might take?” I ask.
“No ma’am. We just deliver and check in. The rest is up to the staff here.”
I nod. Moby thanks them. They leave. It happens so quickly, and suddenly, we’re alone in a room with another hundred people. I shy away from the crowd in an attempt to protect Moby and myself, although I’m not sure what from.
An hour passes with not a word from a single hospital staff. I worry his vitals aren’t being monitored; no one has even looked in our direction except for the bum who asked me for a cigarette.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to find someone to tell us what’s going on. This is crazy.”
“I’ll be right here.” Smartass.
Finding the checkin station proved more difficult with the construction underway but once there, the woman acts as if I have three heads and am breathing fire.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, what did you say the name is?”
“Cooper. Moby Cooper.”
“I don’t have anyone registered by that name.”
“We were brought here by ambulance from Greenville. My husband is on a gurney over by the dead guy.” None of this is amusing. She doesn’t even blink at my referral to a dead patient hanging out in the hall.
Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) Page 9