Theo’s parents are here again. His mother has to be one of the kindest people on Earth. When she visits, she insists we all sit together. Even if Theo is not around, she holds me as though I’m one of her flock. She lets me rest my head on her shoulder and cry my eyes out. Once, during one of my crying jags, Theo bolted out the door, unable to handle it all.
Mrs. Edwards never questions me, never judges me, and always comforts me. I hope Theo realizes how fortunate he is to have two healthy, living parents that adore him. By the way that he treats them, I’m sure he does.
Today, Mrs. Edwards sits between Theo and me. She wraps one arm around me and the other around him. She plays with our hair. It reminds me of what my mom used to do when I was little. She faintly sings gospel songs, barely above a whisper. I rest my head on her shoulder and am about to close my eyes when Shelby enters the waiting room.
“Hey, any news?” she asks, yanking me up to stand.
“Nothing new.”
She escorts me away from the Edwards family so we can chat in private. She glances over at Theo. “So is Mr. Jerk Face still moping around?”
“Wow, he’s gone from Dr. Hotness to Mr. Jerk Face.”
Shelby giggles. “My, the mighty have fallen.” Her face gets solemn again. She wipes the hair from my face. “I’m really disappointed in him. I thought he’d snap out of it by now.”
I shrug. “Some things aren’t meant to be.”
She pouts. “But you still love him, don’t you?”
My eyes wander around to find Theo. He quickly shifts his eyes toward me as he stumbles out of the room again and heads straight into the men’s room.
“What do you think?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Theo
Finally, I have the place to myself. The last family left me alone on the second pew—alone with my thoughts and fears. The ornate stained-glass windows depict the life of Christ, making me feel welcome. The large cross above the altar beckons me to kneel and cast my burdens on my God. The candles flicker softly in the dimly lit chapel. If I listen carefully, maybe God will tell me in simple words what I’m supposed to do. So far, the noise in my head occludes any divine messages.
My baby is so sick, and I am unable to do anything about it. It goes against my code as a physician to give up. Even more so, it goes against my code as a father, even though this is all new to me. I don’t have a clue what to do. I feel as though I’m failing her; I’m failing everyone.
A shadow falls across my shoulder. Isaac tiptoes up the aisle. He lights a candle, kneels at the altar railing, and folds his hands in a silent prayer. When he stands, our eyes meet. He sits down beside me. We sit in silence for what seems like an eternity. I guess we both are hoping for some divine intervention.
I feel an arm go around my shoulder. I cannot stop myself from laying my head on his shoulder. The tears begin, and I am having trouble breathing. Isaac holds me.
“I can’t lose my girl.”
“You won’t,” he says.
I wipe my face and sit back up. He pats my shoulder with one hand and wipes the tears off his face with the other.
“I never thought I’d have a daughter. I dreamed about it but never thought it would happen. And now—”
“I know. And you’re going to have lots of years with her.”
My shoulders slump. “I don’t know, man. I always thought I had unwavering faith, but I don’t know anymore.” I lean over to rest my forehead on the back of the pew in front of me.
He pats my back. “You have to be strong.”
“She has to make it, or I don’t think I will.”
He sits up taller. “Listen to me.” Candlelight flickers on his dark, tear-stained face. “I know you and Darla aren’t in a good place right now. But if things go south—”
I snap my head toward him.
He puts his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I think they will, but if they do, you have to be strong for Darla.” His voice cracks. I can see the pain he’s been holding in during this terrible time. He’s devastated too. He loves Stella, and I’m so thankful she’s had him in her life.
He clears his throat before continuing. “She’s a mommy. Please be strong for her. I’m begging you. She can’t be left hanging. Not right now.”
I bury my face in my hands. He sniffles. I know what he’s saying is what needs to be said, but it hurts so much. I don’t know if I have anything left to comfort anyone else.
He stands to leave. “Your faith is still there. You’re trying too hard.” He takes out a tissue and dabs at his eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Peace, brother.”
Isaac leaves, and I’m all alone again in this beautiful chapel.
Thank you, Lord. I needed that.
I drag myself back to the dark, quiet waiting room. Most of the families have already settled in for the night. The ones that are still awake speak in hushed tones so as not to disrupt the ones that are faking sleep. I tiptoe over to the cabinet, take out a blanket and pillow, and head back to my designated corner. It’s so dark that I can’t see Darla, but I know she’s in her usual spot on the loveseat across the room.
Several people exit the bathroom, causing a blinding sliver of light to filter through the drab environment. Darla flips over and shades her eyes with her pillow. I should go to her. She’s not asleep. But I’d better not. If I go over there, I would probably screw up again. Maybe I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow after I’ve had some sleep. I unfold the blanket, place it on the floor, and prop the pillow up against the wall. My bones are so rigid from sleeping in this position. I feel like an old man with my stiff, creaky back and knees. I groan as I try to find a comfortable position on the floor. I wedge myself into the corner so I won’t fall. I’m so weak that I don’t think I could keep myself from sliding over into a heap on the floor if I start heading in that direction. I’m so damn tired.
The last time I had the nerve to check out my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t believe that was me staring back. Dark circles reside under my puffy eyes, and my skin is a sickly, sallow color. My physical appearance shows exactly how I feel on the inside: empty, dead, and lost.
I check my phone for any text messages. A few coworkers have left messages asking about Stella and letting me know that they are thinking of me. Before I shut down my phone for the night, my thumb hovers over the photo album app. I finally have the nerve to check out the last few photos I added. They are of the birthday celebration. I swipe through them, landing on the last photo we took at the ice cream parlor. We were so happy that day. Life fell apart so quickly not long after.
I close my eyes and pretend I’m in my apartment, hoping I can convince myself that I’m in a soft comfy bed down the hall from my healthy daughter and that this is all a terrible nightmare. So far, I haven’t been able to convince myself.
Out of the still darkness, one sniffle after another breaks the silence. That’s a pretty typical sound at night. Nighttime is when at least one mother breaks down. She can be strong during the day when she puts on her brave face, but at night, the truth comes out. Fortunately, the sobs are usually followed by someone trying to comfort her. This quite often makes the sadness worse before it makes it better.
Tonight, there aren’t any encouraging words, only an occasional sniffle. In the dead quiet, someone hiccups. Sniffle, sniffle, hiccup, hiccup. Jesus. It’s Darla crying, and she has no one to tell her it’s all going to be okay.
She flops her blanket off. In the shadows, her silhouette sits up, and her hands rake through her hair. She stands and shuffles toward the bathroom. When the sliver of light breaks through the waiting room, I see Darla slip inside.
Shit. I know I should be the one to comfort her, but I don’t think I can. At this point, I’ll probably say the wrong thing a
nd make her feel worse than she already does.
Crap. I get my selfish butt off the floor, one sore knee at a time, and creep over to the bathroom. I slip inside, trying to keep the light from disturbing those attempting to sleep. I stand with my back to the door, not sure what to do now that I’m here. I peek under the stall doors and see her body curled up in the back stall. More hiccups. More sobs. Her breath catches in her throat. My breath catches in mine. She needs someone to hold her. She needs me to hold her, but my stupid feet won’t move. This should be automatic. I should rush over to her and tell her I’m here for her. I can support her, and she can support me. That’s how it works.
I want to. I really do. But I can’t. It’s as if my feet are glued to the floor. As much as Darla is hurting, I’m hurting too. I don’t know if I have it in me to fake a comforting hug.
The door behind me bumps me out of the way. A lady gasps. I put my finger to my mouth as I slip out the door. This lady will help her. They can help each other. I don’t know if it’s because of pride or pain, but I can’t do it. I don’t know if I will ever be able to do it. I don’t care. I don’t. I really don’t. God, I feel like a pathetic loser.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Darla
Another agonizingly long day. Stella made it through another surgery and is now resting in her room. I’m so sick of the doctor saying he doesn’t know when she’ll start responding to the treatment. His stock “only time will tell” answer pisses me off. Her leg doesn’t appear as cherry-red today, in my opinion, but I try not to focus on anything except her pretty little face. I’m so proud of how strong her little body has been, but even the strongest have limits to what they can handle. She’s so much like her daddy—so mild-mannered on the outside, but tough as nails on the inside.
I can’t imagine how empty my life would be without my sweet Stella. I feel so empty thinking about the possibility of losing her. She’s my life. I don’t remember even living before she was born. She gave my life purpose.
Theo thumbs through Stella’s chart, taking in every note, every lab, every medication dosage. He scribbles a dose calculation on a napkin to double-check what has been prescribed. “Her urine creatinine is a little elevated today.”
The nurse practitioner should be used to his micromanagement of her care by now, but I would be ready to smack him if I were the nurse on duty.
She focuses on the lab results. “I’ll make sure the doctor knows. It’s such a slight change, he probably won’t think it’s significant.”
“It’s significant to me,” Theo says. “In addition to her bacterial infection, she has a family history of type one diabetes, so I would appreciate it if you would pass this… insignificant finding on to the doctor.”
She clears her throat. “I’ll let him know.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to intervene before Theo bites her head off again.
Theo hands her the chart back and acts as though I’m not even in the room. The bell chimes over the intercom, signaling visitation time is over.
I give my unconscious Stella one last kiss. “Sleep well, baby girl. I’ll be back later.”
Theo kisses her cheek and follows me out the door and down the hallway toward the waiting room. Six more hours of “wait and see.” Theo passes all the sofas and continues down the hallway toward the hospital exit. We can’t keep doing this. It has to end now.
“Theo, wait up.”
He stops but doesn’t turn to face me. He stares at the ceiling tiles as if they will give him the patience to deal with me.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Not now. Yes, I’ve checked my sugar, and no, I haven’t had anything to eat, so please leave me alone.” He storms away.
“Theo, go home,” I call after him.
That shocks him out of his funk. He changes direction so fast, I almost run into him. Pain, sadness, and fatigue are spread all over his face, making him seem ten years older. He watches several staff members pass before he says anything.
“Why? Don’t like sharing her?”
Ouch. I’m trying to do the right thing now. I stand in front of him so I don’t have to yell at the top of my lungs. Although, that might make me feel better.
“It’s obvious you begrudge being here, so leave. I’m tired of tiptoeing around you. I’ve said I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face. I’m done. Start acting like an adult.”
He stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets and bites his quivering lip.
“Go home, get some sleep, and for God’s sake, eat something. You’re Mr. Asshole when you haven’t eaten.”
He sneers at me. “At least I have an excuse.” He walks backward. “I’m outta here. You happy?” He begins to leave but not before he gives me one more stare down. He shakes his head and continues his exit. If he takes my bitchy advice, he might come back rested and with a brain full of glucose. I know I should take my own advice, but it doesn’t work that way for moms.
His image grows smaller with every footstep. I know I should run after him, tell him I’m sorry and that I didn’t mean to be so cruel. My damn feet must be stuck in the tile floor, because I can’t even move out of the way for the staff members entering and exiting the building.
Darla, you sealed your fate and possibly Stella’s too.
Right when I get situated again in the waiting room, Theo’s sisters and brother enter. Jennifer scans the area and puts her hands on her hips. Tommy shrugs. The youngest, Heather, sees me. She breaks from the Edwards pack, comes to my couch, and sits beside me.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk.”
If I didn’t know better, I would think I was shaking a twenty-year-old Stella’s hand. She has the same messy blond hair, the same green eyes, and the same cute dimple when she tries not to grin.
“You’re staring at me.”
I blink. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…”
“I know. My niece looks exactly like me. I’ve been told that about a thousand times in the last few weeks.” She giggles. “I can’t get over the fact that I have a niece.”
“I’m so sorry how this all came down.”
She waves off my comment. “Don’t worry about it. I was beginning to think my brother never made mistakes.” She sucks in a breath. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I nudge her with my shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“What I mean is that Theo follows the rules, even with games.”
She makes me chuckle. “I don’t know about that.”
Heather laughs, and that familiar dimple pops out. “At least he followed his heart one time.”
I swallow, and my eyes fill with tears. “You’re a good person.”
She squeezes my hand. “So is he.”
Jennifer and Tommy join us. Now, it’s one big Edwards reunion, but it reminds me of lyrics from a Sesame Street song: “One of these things is not like the others.”
Jennifer sits on the other side of me. “Where is he?”
I groan. “I sort of lost my temper and made him leave until he got something to eat and changed his attitude.”
Tommy perches on the edge of the sofa, forcing Heather to scooch closer to me. Thank goodness she’s tiny, or all of us would never fit on this couch.
“’Bout damn time.” Tommy clears his throat. “I know you said you didn’t want us to get involved, but your way isn’t working very well. Would you mind if we tried the Edwards approach?”
My pent-up emotions get the best of me. Tears pour out of my eyes, and I sob into my hands. “Please, do whatever you can. I can’t take this rift between us anymore.”
Tommy snaps his fingers. “I guess it’s settled. Sis and Sis, let’s go. We have an intervention to conduct.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Theo
The w
indows of my apartment rattle from the force of me slamming the door behind me. She has some nerve, telling me I need to go away. If I didn’t leave, I was going to say something I would live to regret. If I had the energy, I would slam the door three more times for good measure. But all I can manage is to throw my keys across the room. They hit a pile of crap on my dining room table. If I don’t pick them up now, I’ll never remember what I did with them.
I move some junk mail out of the way that Mom must have put there for me. Underneath the pile are the board games that Darla gave me for my birthday. I must have left them at my parents’ house when we rushed out of there to get to the hospital that fateful day, and Mom dropped them off here for me. One at a time, I open the boxes to smell the fresh cardboard smell of a new game waiting to be played. All the plastic game pieces are still in their plastic bags. The Twister mat has that familiar plastic smell and hasn’t been overcome with stinky feet yet. When I move the last box, the dry-erase board sits facing up, its unanswered Hangman puzzle staring at me, taunting me. I run my finger through the drawing, smearing it until it’s completely illegible. Don’t care.
The bright light from the floor lamp is too cheerful for me, so I switch it off before I slouch down on my couch. It’s more comfortable than I remember. But compared to the hard waiting room floor, anything would feel like a Tempur-Pedic mattress.
I’m too wired to sleep but too tired to eat. Darla should have told me. I’m a reasonable guy. I could have handled the truth. Well, my handling of the truth has been quite crappy now that I think about it. It’s exactly the reaction she was afraid I would have, and it’s exactly why she didn’t know how to tell me. But still, she told everyone else but me. That’s what hurts the most. I was the least important person to her. I would bet she told the clerk at the grocery store or maybe the dude that changes the oil in her car. It wouldn’t surprise me if the librarian and the mailman probably knew from the get-go.
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