Half-Truths

by Randileigh Kennedy

  Wes reached out for me, but I backed up.

  “I don’t care if you call me petty or accuse me of being immature right now in the midst of me screaming at the sky for God to fix this. You can call it a tantrum because I’m not getting my way while my entire world is falling apart. But you don’t get to accuse me of acting like a child while I’m losing the very person who made me one.” My sobs were unrelenting.

  “Whitley,” Wes said softly, still trying to salvage the conversation.

  “Don’t,” I said firmly. “You don’t get to tell me how I should be acting or what I should be feeling right now. You don’t get to show up here pretending to be concerned about me or my family when you chose to walk away from all of that. I left it all out there for you. I told you what I wanted, and you didn’t show up. And you know what? The world is still spinning, right? You moved on and screwed up your life in some other way. Good for you. But none of that matters, so you don’t get to tell me how to act right now.”

  “What do you mean, I didn’t show up? What are you talking about?” Wes asked, looking genuinely confused.

  “The letter I left for you. Was it really so insignificant to you that you forgot about how we fell apart? That’s all the more reason why you have no right to be here, telling me how to feel right now,” I snarled. “And her? Bringing her? You’re an inconsiderate jerk. So I’m a child, and you’re an asshole. Now that we have that settled, I’m leaving.” The anger was too much for me to take. It was seething out of me, and I felt like I was going to self-destruct.

  I turned to head back out to the lobby so I could continue my ungraceful exit down the elevator, but instead I bumped into Sawyer, spilling my coffee down the front of his shirt.

  “Dammit, what are you doing here?” I asked, completely flustered.

  “I didn’t expect to see you, sorry,” he began, looking a bit surprised. “I don’t want to interrupt anything, but I just thought you might be hungry. I just wanted to drop off some food for you. But when I got off the elevator, I heard some raised voices . . .” He nodded awkwardly toward Marissa and Wes, who offered a similar reply. They turned and walked down the opposite corridor to an outside exit.

  “You witnessed all of that?” I asked, full of embarrassment. This night continued to spiral downward on so many levels.

  “I really don’t want to meddle. I didn’t expect to see you,” he reiterated. “After your texts earlier about what had happened, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I just wanted to bring you some food in case you were hungry, and I wrote you a note. I wanted to let you know I’m here. You know, not physically, but if you needed to talk or cry or scream or whatever. I mean, now I am here physically. But I didn’t get here until you were actually screaming. That’s not what I meant to do.” He was rambling at this point, and I knew he had happened upon all of this unexpectedly. I couldn’t be mad about that, despite how flustered I was at the moment.

  “I just dumped coffee all over you,” I huffed, annoyed by everything at this point.

  “So now we’re even,” he replied as his lips curled into a smile. Suddenly my anger and frustration lifted. It was amazing how his presence calmed me.

  “I guess we are,” I agreed, reaching to grab some paper towels from one of the counters. He wiped himself down, still looking amused by the spill.

  “Are you heading home or staying here tonight?” he questioned.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing. They told us we can’t stay tonight,” I explained as we walked down the hall. “They’re supposed to be doing some additional tests while they wait for clearance to transfer him to Stanford tonight. Obviously my mom is going, but we’re staying back. My brother went home already. I’m not sure . . . I can’t do it. I don’t want to be there, just waiting for a phone call in the very place I grew up with him. There are tons of family members there too, and I just can’t do it right now. I don’t want to be just waiting there. I don’t know if they’ll let me stay here in the waiting room. I’m seriously considering just sleeping at the park tonight if they kick me out.”

  “On the bench?” he mused, probably unsure if I was serious.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.” I smirked. “Actually I prefer the merry-go-round. It’s flat with a nice sway, which I find very soothing. I’ve done it before.”

  This guy probably thought I was crazy, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Do you want company?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a wreck.” I breathed loudly. “I’m waiting for my mom to come out. Waiting for the doctors to tell me that everything I just witnessed didn’t really happen. Waiting for the ceiling to cave in and swallow me whole.” I shook my head, realizing I was pretty exhausted. I probably wasn’t making much sense.

  “What if I have a plan?” he suggested.

  “You would,” I replied softly. His mind never shut off.

  “I’ll head out, and whenever you’re done here, whether it’s in an hour or three hours, whatever—give me a call. You don’t have to stay here, and you don’t have to go home. I think it will be good for you.” He leaned down and gently kissed me. He touched my cheek softly as he pulled away. “Yes?”

  I nodded, thinking there was still a chance this all was a dream. It didn’t seem real that in the midst of this tragedy there was a guy like Sawyer trying to make it better.

  He tenderly kissed me one more time and then moved toward the elevator, turning around once to smile before the doors closed. I drank what was left of my coffee and paced around for a bit longer. My mom emerged from the hospital room as additional doctors and nurses went in.

  “We’re going to be okay,” she said warmly, wrapping me in a tight hug.

  “How can you say that right now?” I questioned, not out of anger but pure curiosity. She was a natural optimist, but it still baffled me that she could be so positive right now.

  “Because the love our family has is what makes this life worth living,” she replied delicately. “We’ve had such an abundance of that. Whatever happens, we will be okay. I know that.” Her words were simple but felt so true. I knew that’s how life worked: you could be torn down and broken in the midst of devastation, but somewhere there was still beauty and hope and love around you in some form. She was right. We’d always had an abundance of those things, and that mattered.

  “The air flight should be ready to take us out of here in about an hour,” she stated, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. “At least we have a chance for some change. Your brother is on his way back to bring me a bag with some clothes and such. Do you want to head home with him?”

  “Nah, I don’t think I’m going home tonight.” I shrugged, unsure of what my plan was. “I’m going to stay here for a while. At least until the plane is gone, just in case there’s any more news. You know, just in case anything else happens.”

  She hugged me again and made her way down the elevator to grab her bag from Warren. The silence around me felt like an echo; it was comforting and eerie all at once. The chaos had calmed, which soothed me, but the quietness surrounding me now felt lonely. I went to the waiting area, not overly surprised to find the room empty. It was already well past ten o’clock, so visiting hours were long over. I sat down and exchanged some texts with Brie to keep her in the loop. We made plans to see each other the next day after I took my grandma to her podiatry appointment. It would be nice to have some girl time with Brie to take my mind off everything.

  I scrolled through my phone, sending out a few text responses to the barrage of people contacting me for information. I wasn’t sure what to tell everyone, other than to say that my dad would finally be taken to Stanford for surgery. The outcome still sounded dismal, so I wasn’t sure what else to add. The news this week had started out horribly and then had somehow grown worse from there. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it at this point.

  My mom came back up, hugged me goodbye one last time, and then they were transported to another waiting area whi
le they waited for the plane. I waited for about an hour, hoping someone, anyone, would have information for me. Eventually a sweet older gentleman in a white coat came out and sat next to me on the small sofa. He introduced himself as Dr. Beckett.

  “We’re doing all we can for your father,” he said warmly. “We’re loading him on that plane in about ten minutes. I know this is a roller coaster. There are no words that can fill the hole of what you’re feeling right now, I know that. I’ve been at this for a very long time. I’ve seen miracles and I’ve seen heartbreak, and it’s not the miracles that keep me coming back. The sadness pushes me every day to try harder. But there’s one perpetual problem.” He looked at me with affectionate eyes.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m only human.” He shrugged. “Every single time, I give each patient the very best of me. Every time. And sometimes that’s enough. But I’m also reminded time and again that I’m not the one in control here. Sometimes that revelation consoles me, but other times I don’t understand it. I stare at my hands, and I’m unaware of the power they possess. Sometimes they heal people. Sometimes they don’t. But the way a family loves one another, that heals more than what these hands have ever done. Your family has that. That is what you take away from all this, no matter the outcome.”

  I wanted to hug him. I could see wisdom behind his eyes, and I imagined he’d had many hard conversations inside these hospital walls. He spoke with sincerity, and my mood lifted.

  “Thank you for that,” I said, genuinely grateful he had spoken to me. It was amazing that a complete stranger could offer more comfort than people who knew you best. It was as if their advice and wisdom meant more in the moment because it was unprompted and unbiased. I suspected that’s why I was so drawn to Sawyer during all of this. He didn’t have to show up for me, but he continued to do so anyway, despite the heaviness of these circumstances.

  “Now I have to tell you the bad news,” Dr. Beckett added lightheartedly, “which means they told me to kick you out of here.”

  “I can’t stay? All my stuff is already in the room.”

  “You can’t stay in there, not tonight,” he explained. “Technically once that plane takes off, your dad is no longer a patient here. I know that sounds cold, but that’s the reality of it on paper. The room will be cleaned out and prepared for the next person. I think it will be good for you to get out of this place. Clear your mind. Get some fresh air. Jump in the freezing lake, I don’t know.” He chuckled. “I know it’s hard to focus on anything else, but it’s good for you to take a break from this. There’s nothing you can do tonight. And tomorrow . . . That’s the ultimate gift—that there’s a tomorrow. And it’s a new day. So do something tonight that will restore your soul. That’s important. The journey isn’t over yet. There’s a lot more fight in that man, and I’d be willing to bet there’s a lot more fight in you as well, to get you through all this.”

  I smiled at him warmly, and he gave my hands a soft pat. “Good night, dear.” He got up from the couch and made his way down the corridor.

  I debated what to do next. I should probably go home, that would be the most sensible thing to do, to be with the rest of my family. But the doctor was right: clearing my head felt so necessary right now. I couldn’t do that at home. I dialed Sawyer’s number.

  “What’s your great plan?” I asked tearfully as soon as he answered.

  “Come to Moonshine Park,” he said with an exuberant tone that didn’t match my somber mood.

  I promised I would be there in just a few minutes. I made a trip to the bathroom and rinsed my face with cold water. My puffy eyes were becoming a normal look for me, so I wasn’t too worried about trying to mask them at this point. I did refresh my makeup and braid my hair in an effort to look a little bit put together. I left the hospital with my suitcase.

  As I approached the park, I couldn’t believe the scene in front of me. It looked like there were blankets or sheets or something thrown across the low-hanging tree branches, and dim light filtered between them. I could see Sawyer’s shadow, perfectly illuminated by the glow from the white billowing sheets. I made my way to the blanket structure, completely in awe of what I was looking at. A ridiculous Keep Out sign made of paper was pinned to a pseudo doorway at the front of the blanket fort.

  “What on earth am I looking at?” I asked as I climbed inside the makeshift teepee cascading down from the trees. “How did you do this?” There had to at least be ten or twelve oversize white blankets and sheets strewn around the low branches of the trees next to the edge of the park. Soft-white twinkle lights were littered around the branches as well, lighting up the inside like a perfect little fort. Sawyer was the most radiant sight of the entire thing; he had such pride on his face and his smile made me feel the same.

  “I borrowed a few things from the hotel.” He shrugged. “One of the housekeepers helped me out. Of course if I don’t return them by tomorrow at 9:00 a.m., she’s charging me five hundred bucks.” He laughed. “The lights are battery operated. How cool is that? Not bad, right?” He lifted up his hands, motioning around the inside of the fort.

  “How . . . Why did you do all this?” I stammered, completely in awe of the entire thing.

  “I heard what you said earlier. Back at the hospital.”

  “My psychotic rant about wanting to make a blanket fort so I could disappear from the world? You realize that was an angry explosion of words, right?” I looked around the fort, amazed at just how perfect it was. A couple of huge blankets were spread over the grass for us to lie on. I took a seat next to Sawyer.

  “I know it wasn’t literal, but I just wanted to prove a point. I hear you,” he said softly. “I’m here, and I hear you.”

  I stared at him. His eyes were full of the same warmth they always held, no matter the situation. They always looked happy and sincere, whether he was laughing with me or consoling me. I loved that about his face. He smiled mischievously and held up two boxes of cereal. “Just in case you get hungry.”

  “Lucky Charms or Froot Loops, huh?” I grinned. “Good choices.” He set them back down and moved toward the front of the tent to prop the blankets apart at the entrance. He climbed back and motioned for me to lie down next to him.

  “Look—this is the best part.” He flipped a switch, and the lights turned off. We had a perfect view of the lake, completely unobstructed by any trees. The moon was bright, and it looked like a spotlight, illuminating the sparkling water beneath it. The stars grazed the tips of the mountains. It was magical.

  “This may be the best blanket fort I’ve ever been in,” I said quietly, leaning my head against his chest. We stared out at the view, and I breathed—inhales, exhales—and then it happened. My soul felt restored. I felt a sense of calm, like I had the strength to make it through the next day, even the next week, no matter what happened. I guessed that was the difference between having someone with you when tragedy struck versus going through it alone. “What was it really like when you lost your parents?” I asked softly.

  “I was so little,” he began. “I remember being confused at first. I couldn’t really process it. Even now my memories are sporadic. I remember being upset that I had to wear a shirt with so many buttons on it because I had to ‘look nice’ for the rest of the family, as my grandma explained it. I remember moving all my stuff to their cabin outside the city. That was a big change from living downtown. But I felt good there. It was peaceful. I sat on the dock night after night, just like this, staring out at the water, looking up into space. It calmed me. The more I did it, the less things hurt. That I remember. My grandma made me blueberry pancakes every morning, and that became my new normal.”

  “That’s a sad story,” I stated, tracing around his chest with my finger. He flicked the lights back on.

  “Yeah, but it’s also a happy one at the same time,” he added. “I had a really good life. My grandparents were amazing people, and I know I was lucky to be raised by them. I grew up in a beautiful place a
nd learned all kinds of things—how to fish, how to cook, how to appreciate nature, how to study hard, how to live a good, honest life. The tragedy isn’t what made me who I am; the rest of it did. That’s the good part. When something goes terribly wrong, I think that’s what people miss sometimes—the good parts. I know in that moment it feels like there can’t possibly be anything good, but there always is. Even at the bottom. You’ve got air in your lungs and a new day. There are still good things out there for anyone, even in the middle of their worst.”

  I stared at him through the dim light as he spoke.

  “I think you’re the good part of all this for me,” I whispered.

  ***

  Soft sunlight began to peek through the white hanging sheets. Sawyer and I were wrapped up in a big, fluffy white down comforter, and it felt perfect. His body was warm against mine, and I was tucked underneath his strong arm. I felt protected and safe underneath the soft white linens hanging over our heads. He stirred as I moved, and his face lit up as he came to.

  “I think we just spent our first night together in a blanket fort.” He smirked.

  “We did.” I nodded, reciprocating his smile. “And we already have breakfast, so that’s a bonus.” I pointed to the two boxes of cereal still resting next to us. “I’m kind of surprised we weren’t mauled by squirrels in the night.”

  “Oh, they came while you were asleep, but I protected you,” he teased. “You should have seen them. They were out for blood, but I kept you safe. You’re welcome, by the way. The plague wouldn’t look good on you.”

  “You’re so noble.” I laughed, sitting up. The braid I had in the night before was pretty loose, and I quickly tried to fix the mess by untangling it and throwing my hair into a messy bun. My eyes felt swollen from all the tears the night before.

  “I expected you to look terrible in the morning, but you have a gift.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, punching him playfully in the arm. He opened the two boxes of cereal, and we each grabbed fistfuls with our hands. “Next time I’m blowing up at my ex-boyfriend and I mention my strong desire for cereal, I’m going to throw in my love of bowls and spoons.”