Good Times
Page 20
The thought makes me want to punch something, but I can’t. I’m on a flight and I don’t need my ass getting kicked off between here and Odessa. Also, I don’t have the brain space to think about that right now. All I can do is pray Jette is okay and that she made whatever decision is going to make her happy. The rest, I’ll just have to live with.
Right now, I have to focus on getting to Maggie.
When Aunt Stella called to tell me Maggie had a heart attack, it was way too soon for any kind of prognosis, so I have no idea what to expect when I get there.
Please, God, let her be okay. I swear I’ll call her more often and visit when I can. Just don’t take her away from me.
I never even told her I’d found Jette again, but it’ll be the first thing I tell her once I know she’s okay.
She’s gonna be so happy, I just know it. She used to always tell me how sorry she was that Shep and Jette, both, had such awful parents. I tried blaming their wealth on their lousy personalities but she disagreed.
“Some people are rotten, Finley, and money, whether you have it or you don’t, can exaggerate a person’s attributes. If you’re hateful and poor, money won’t make you nice all of a sudden and vice versa. That’s why it’s more important to focus on what’s inside their hearts rather than their bank accounts.”
She was so wise… is wise. I refuse to think of her in the past tense.
I owe everything to her. She took me in when I had no one else. She provided for me and helped me when I struggled with my studies at my fancy new school before I met Jette. She’s always encouraged and supported me and even though I’m dying to be with Jette, and it’s literally killing me to think about her being alone, Maggie needs me more.
Somehow, I manage to doze off mid-flight and wake just as the plane touches down. It wasn’t much of a nap, but I do feel a little more alert. It could just be all the adrenaline and fear of the unknown.
Shouldering my bag, I deboard the plane as quickly as possible and power up my phone to schedule an Uber to take me straight to the hospital.
Thankfully, there’s a missed call from Jette. Just seeing her name pop up on my screen puts my body at ease a little. Shep also called while I was mid-flight, because even though he knew I wouldn’t be able to answer, it’s killing him to stay in New Orleans and not be here in Odessa with me. Right now, I’m his connection to Maggie and he needs her to be okay just as much as I do.
First, I schedule the Uber and then just as I’m getting ready to call Jette, my screen goes black.
Fucking perfect.
Of course, my phone would die.
For a day that felt like it was going so right only a short time ago, it’s sure gone to shit fast.
At least I remember the make and model of the Uber driver’s car that’s supposed to be picking me up, so I run to the rideshare exit to wait, convincing myself Jette will forgive me once I’m finally able to explain.
I’ll grovel forever if I have to.
Once I’m at the hospital, I head straight to the emergency room admissions desk and give my name to the lady there. Aunt Stella said she’d give the nursing staff my name so they’d know to expect me since it’s late and past normal visiting hours. The nurse informs me Maggie has been moved to a room in the cardiac care unit, which is a positive sign, and tells me her room number.
My stomach twists as I make my way down the corridor.
I think I hate hospitals more than flying.
When I get to the correct floor, a new nurse points me in the direction of Maggie’s room. I don’t hesitate, practically running down the hall before gently knocking on the door.
Aunt Stella opens it, peeking out. Relief washes over her face when she sees me. “Oh, Finley. I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she whispers, giving me a quick hug before leading me into the room.
“How is she?” I ask tentatively.
Like Stella, I’m relieved to be here, but I’m also nervous about what I’m walking in on.
“She’s still in surgery,” she informs me and it’s then I notice the spot where her bed should be is empty. “Maggie has always been in perfect health; I’m just shocked over this whole ordeal.”
Stella wipes at her eyes with a tissue. “The doctor said she needed a bypass. Can you believe that?”
I can tell she’s scared for her sister and I can only imagine how traumatizing the day has been for her, so I pull her into a hug and try to be strong for her, but I’m scared, too. I can’t even begin to think of a life where Maggie isn’t here and I don’t want to try.
Aunt Stella and I are only in the room for a short while before the door is suddenly pushed open, making way for a team of nurses to wheel in the gurney that’s carrying my grandmother.
When one of them notices us, she politely asks us to wait in the hall while they get Maggie situated and promises the doctor will be by soon to give us an update.
“Of course,” Aunt Stella says, taking my hand. “Come on, Finley, let’s get a cup of coffee.”
I follow her lead, my eyes scanning Maggie’s face on my way out. She looks so pale, and in her unconscious state she doesn’t look like herself, which causes more worry and dread to fill my stomach.
When we reach the alcove where the coffee is, Aunt Stella pours two cups with shaking hands, giving one of them to me. I welcome the familiar burn, even though my taste buds aren’t registering the flavor, which is probably a good thing.
“How was your trip?” Aunt Stella asks, her eyes bloodshot from the tears, but her face still so comforting. She and Maggie look so much alike, it’s uncanny.
“Fast, but yet slow at the same time,” I tell her with a chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “This whole day has felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone.”
“I’m sorry—” she starts to say, but doesn’t get a chance to finish before a nurse steps out of Maggie’s room to finds us.
Both Aunt Stella and I abandon our coffees and go to her. She informs us a doctor will be around soon to give us details about the surgery and Maggie’s condition, but since it’s after visiting hours, only one of us can stay.
I immediately volunteer.
There’s no way I’m leaving her alone. Plus, Aunt Stella needs to go home and rest. This day has already been so hard on her.
“Are you sure?” Aunt Stella asks.
I nod. “I’m positive. But if you want to go inside and see her before you leave, I’ll wait out here.”
She gives me a soft smile, patting my cheek.
A few minutes later, she returns, tears in her eyes and her purse under her arm.
Dabbing her eyes with a hankie, she sniffles. “If you change your mind, we have an extra bedroom you’re more than welcome to use. She won’t even know you left, I’m sure.”
Shaking my head, I look past her into Maggie’s room, seeing her still form. “No, I’m staying,” I assure her. “I don’t want her to be alone.”
“Such a good boy,” she says, her hand squeezing my arm. “I’ll be back bright and early in the morning, but please call me if anything changes.” She looks back, hesitating for a moment, but then turns to me with a reassuring smile. “She’s going to be fine.”
I nod, leaning in for one more hug, and then she leaves.
Walking quietly into the room, I try to believe Aunt Stella’s words, but it’s hard to see someone who has always been a pillar of strength lying in a bed, looking so weak.
There are wires everywhere, connecting her to machines that beep and hiss, doing God knows what.
And I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life.
“Maggie.” The sound of my voice is foreign to me, a broken whisper full of emotion I can’t hold back. Standing beside the bed, I gently take her hand in mine, careful not to disrupt anything.
Reaching behind me, I pull a chair over and sit, not wanting to let go of her hand. I can’t rub my thumb over her wrinkled skin because of the IV that’s attached, so I hold onto her fingers, needing the contact.
Please, God… please.
Leaning my head on the railing of her bed, I pray more than I’ve ever prayed in my entire life.
At some point, I must fall asleep, because when the door opens behind me, I jump.
Turning, I see an older man in a white coat walk into the room. He introduces himself and sticks his hand out, forcing me to let go of Maggie’s to shake it.
“How long will she be out of it?” I don’t want small talk; I only want answers.
“She should sleep for the remainder of the night. We want her body to rest so it can start healing as quickly as possible.” Walking around to the foot of her bed, he pulls out a chart, looking over it as he continues to speak. “As a warning, when she does wake up, she’s going to be very disoriented and confused, especially once she realizes the tube in her mouth is keeping her from speaking. If a staff member isn’t in here, please buzz the nurse as soon as possible.”
I nod my head in understanding. “And then what? What will her recovery be like? I’m assuming the surgery worked?”
“Yes, the procedure was very successful but she still has a long road ahead of her. She’ll be in pain for at least a few days. We, of course, will provide her with pain meds to help as much as possible. If all goes well, she should be able to go home in a few days but she’ll need lots of rest. It’s imperative that she not exert herself in any way.”
My mind is racing at all the what-ifs and uncertainty I’m feeling. “How long will she be in recovery? Will she need any special services once we take her home?”
He replaces the chart, putting his hands into the pockets of his coat. “It could take up to six weeks, if all goes well, and as long as she’s not overdoing it and her incision heals well, she won’t need special services outside of cardiac rehab. But we’ll worry about all of those details in a few days.”
Pausing, he smiles. “I can tell you love your grandmother very much and she’s lucky to have you and her sister to care for her.”
I nod. “I do, and yes, we’ll take good care of her. Thank you, doctor.”
“Have a good night, Mr. Lawson. I’ll be back in the morning.”
A few minutes later, a nurse comes in with some blankets and pillows and shows me how to open the couch by the window into a bed. It’s smaller than any normal-sized bed I’ve ever used and my feet dangle off the edge, but I’m still thankful for it. I’d sleep sitting straight up if I had to, whatever it takes to stay here with Maggie.
Before laying down, I plug my phone into the wall and wait for it to get a small amount of charge, enough to make a phone call. When it gets to about ten percent, I walk down the hall and find a waiting area, hoping it’s a safe place to make a quick phone call to Jette. I know it’s late but I can’t stand it any longer. If I don’t at least try, I’ll never be able to sleep and if I know Jette, she’s not sleeping well without me.
Tapping Jette’s name, I wait.
And wait.
When the call goes to voicemail, I hang up and glance at the time. It’s after midnight. Looking back at the phone and the list of missed calls, I growl in frustration. Part of me wants to call back, but I doubt she’ll answer and it just doesn’t feel right leaving a message, so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her.
When I’m back in bed and as comfortable as I’m going to get, I take advantage of the quiet and pray some more.
I pray for Maggie’s recovery.
And I pray Jette is still mine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Georgette
Sloppy, wet kisses wake me up and as I roll over, I realize I fell asleep on the couch and King is lying next to me, licking my face.
For a moment, I can’t recall what day it is or where I’m supposed to be, but then I remember.
Oh, shit.
My phone.
Frantic, I search the couch until I find it nestled between the cushions. With my heart beating wildly, I unlock it, seeing a missed call from Finley.
He called.
After midnight last night.
Shit.
When I check my voicemails and there’s none from Finley, my stomach drops. Why wouldn’t he leave a message?
What the hell is going on and where the hell are you?
At least he called though, right?
That has to be a good sign. I have to stay positive or I’ll lose my mind going through all the possibilities of where he is and why he’s not here with me. After being apart for five years and finding each other again, I refuse to believe this little bump in the road is enough to derail us. Actually, the thought of it doesn’t even register.
Finley and I are forever.
Hitting redial on the missed call, I wait, but only get voicemail.
Last night, I didn’t want to have a conversation via text, but right now, it seems like my only hope, so I open up our thread of texts and quickly type out a message.
Me: Hey. Where are you? I’m worried about you and I miss you. I hope you know I didn’t accept Trevor’s proposal. I’d never do that to you. To us. Please call or message me back as soon as you can. I’m going crazy over here.
Me: BTW, King misses you too.
Snapping a picture of our dog, sprawled out on his back with all four paws in the air, I send it to Finley, with a prayer he’ll reply, sooner rather than later. Hoping it’s like a bat signal for him to come home.
For a few minutes, I sit and stare at the screen, willing those three magical dots to appear, letting me know he’s there and he’s replying, but they never come.
Thankfully, it’s Sunday and I don’t have to work but I’m at a loss at how I’m going to distract myself until I hear back from Finley. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on anything constructive, like reading or binge watching a show. I have too much nervous energy for that.
Maybe I’ll do some cleaning.
And I still have some boxes to unpack, so I guess I’ll start there.
But first, I go into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee, dishing out some breakfast for King and I, and feeling Finley’s absence immensely. “I know, buddy,” I tell King, running a hand through his fur. “Let’s go make ourselves useful and unpack some boxes.”
A few hours later, I’m a hot, sweaty mess and in desperate need of a shower. I’m surprised my arm isn’t sore, not from cleaning or unpacking, but from checking my phone a million times. Blowing out a breath of air and surveying my progress, I decide that’s enough manual labor for a Sunday and I need to shower and then take King for a walk.
On my way up the stairs, the doorbell rings, and I run back down them at warp speed, hoping with all of my heart that Finley is on the other side of the door.
Without even looking, I throw the door open and find a visibly startled Shep in front of me.
“Oh, hey,” I say, sounding every bit as disappointed as I feel.
Shep’s face morphs into a half-smile. “I know I’m not the man you were hoping to see standing here, but I come with news.”
“Sorry,” I say, remembering I’m a sweaty mess. “I’m sure I look crazy right now because that’s exactly how I feel. Come on in.”
Shep follows me inside, stopping to love on King because the dog practically demands it. At least he’s cute about it, though.
“Please excuse the mess,” I say, pointing around the room and at myself. “I’ve been unpacking to keep myself distracted and it’s only marginally working. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine. Why don’t we sit down so I can put you out of your misery?”
I look at him and my heart sinks, but he gives me a small, reassuring smile, so I try not to jump to conclusions. “Yes, please,” I reply, not even trying to hide the relief and desperation in my voice.
Settling into my couch, I pull an oversized pillow into my lap becaus
e I feel like I need to hold onto something. Shep sits in a chair close by, facing me with his elbows propped up on his knees.
“First of all, Finley wanted me to apologize for not getting in touch with you and he says he will most certainly call you tonight.”
I let out a deep breath and sink back into cushions. “Okay, so he’s not mad at me?”
Shep gives me a kind smile. “No, Georgette. He’s most definitely not mad at you.” Taking a deep breath, he exhales and then begins. “Finley received a phone call yesterday, just after he left the gallery, about Maggie. She had a heart attack.”
“Oh, my, God,” I gush, jumping off the couch. “Is she okay? I mean, is she…” With my hand over my mouth, I feel tears start to burn my eyes and I can’t even bring myself to say what’s in my mind.
Dead.
Is Maggie dead?
“She’s okay,” Shep says, standing with his hands in the air in an effort to calm me. “At least, she will be. She was rushed to the hospital and they did surgery last night. Finley’s Aunt Stella called to let him know and he ran to the coffee shop in a panic and asked me to help him get on a flight out to Odessa. Once he got there, Maggie was still in surgery. But she’s expected to make a full recovery. She’ll be in ICU for a couple of days. He said when he got off the plane his phone died. That’s why he’s been radio silent.”
Oh, God.
Poor Maggie.
And poor Finley.
“I can’t imagine what he’s…” I shake my head, feeling a tear slip out. I know how much Finley loves his grandmother. I love her too. Everybody who meets her loves her.
“Are you okay?” I ask Shep, knowing how close the two of them have always been. Just like Finley is more of a brother to Shep, Maggie is like his grandmother.
Shep exhales, nodding, and it’s only now I see the dark circles under his eyes. “As long as Maggie is okay. That’s all that matters.”
I nod in agreement. That is all that matters.
“I just feel so awful. All this time I thought Finley left because of what happened at the gallery yesterday. I don’t know if he told you, but he walked in on Trevor proposing to me.”
Shep’s eyes go wide and I know Finley didn’t tell him. Why would he? I’m sure the only thing he could think about was getting to Maggie. My issues with Trevor and my parents seem so trivial now.