by Taylor Hyer
I learned that three people that arrived at the hospital with gunshot wounds had died from their injuries. Four died before they even made it to the hospital; one being a local police officer. Three more were in intensive care and out of surgery, and there were two that were still in surgery. I heard that there were two people that were only slightly wounded, too.
By the end of the scene, fourteen people had been hit by bullets, most of them by more than one bullet. Half of them were dead, and almost the entire other half were touch and go. The small TV in the waiting room kept flashing with new updates from the hospital or the scene at the art gallery.
“Two men have been found and put in custody after fleeing the gallery, while another was shot and killed by officials at the scene,” the local news woman said. “We are unable to release their names yet. We do not have much information about the victims yet, but we do know that one officer was shot and killed during the face off with the perpetrators.”
“Don’t you dare share their fucking names,” I heard Parker’s dad said under his breath. “Don’t give those fuckers any validation for their actions.”
Jackson looked at his father in disbelief but didn’t say anything. For such a young kid, he seemed to understand that this situation allowed for a few swear words.
We sat in silence for about fifteen minutes until a doctor entered the waiting room. We all whipped our heads, hoping for some news. “Williams family?” the doctor asked. We all stood up quickly, meeting the doctor as he walked toward us.
“Good evening, I’m Doctor Bryce,” the man said. He was a few inches shorter than me, and looked about my father’s age. His hair was turning gray, and the bit of hair he had on his face was a mixture of black and white. “We rushed Nancy Williams into surgery as soon as she arrived at the hospital. She suffered two gunshot wounds to her torso, and…”
The doctor continued, and I looked at Parker as he did. He spoke slowly, and as if the world turned into slow motion, Parker began to collapse. I caught her, bringing her slowly to a chair and holding her closely. She sobbed intensely, and I noticed her father holding onto Jackson for support. He moved to a chair as the doctor grabbed his arm to support him, realizing Jackson was too small to support a guy as big as Kenton.
We did everything we could, but I regret to inform you that Mrs. Williams did not survive the surgery. The wounds were just too much for her body to handle. I am deeply sorry for your loss.
Kenton was sitting next to Parker, and she untangled herself from my grip and turned to her father, burying herself into his chest now. They cried together, not realizing that Jackson was standing next to them, watching. He wasn’t crying, and I could tell he was confused at the situation. His arms were crossed across his small chest, and his eyebrows were furrowed that showed a mix of confusion and anxiousness.
He let his family members cry for a couple minutes, then he spoke up. “Where’s mom?” His voice was soft, and it cracked in between words.
Kenton looked up and his eyes opened wide, as if he forgot about his other child. He held his arms out for Jackson, but Jackson didn’t move. “Come here, buddy,” Kenton said, tears staining his face.
“Where’s mom?” Jackson repeated. “Did they save her yet?”
Kenton let out a large sigh, then began to speak. “Mama didn’t make it out of surgery. The doctors tried to save her after her accident but they couldn’t.”
“Why couldn’t they?” Jackson asked. “You said they were going to.”
“I said they were going to do everything they could,” Kenton replied. “Sometimes it just isn’t enough.”
Kenton’s voice cracked as he spoke, almost unable to let the words escape his mouth. It seemed impossible for him to admit that his wife had just died due to an unimaginable tragedy. How could someone possibly explain that to their young child?
“Not everyone survives,” Kenton said, tears flowing out of his eyes.
“She’s in heaven?” Jackson asked, finally grasping onto what was happening.
“Yes, Jackson,” Parker spoke up. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, her face was soaked from her tears. She wore a little bit of eye makeup, and some of it now stained her cheeks.
“NO!” Jackson shouted, causing a few people in the waiting room to look up from what they were doing. “NO!”
Jackson ran out of the waiting room and into the hallway. Parker and Kenton looked too exhausted to stand up and follow him, so I quickly left to find him. He hadn’t gone far; he was standing outside of the door. I walked around to face him and noticed his eyes were filled with tears. I didn’t know what to say to him, but I knelt down and gave him a hug. He was so small and I felt his bones push into my body.
Jackson hugged me back, his small arms wrapped tightly around my neck. He began to whimper softly, and I could feel his tears drop on my skin. His body felt so fragile in my arms and I was afraid if I let him go, he might fall apart.
After a few minutes Jackson let go and looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and stained with tears. “She was supposed to come to my school play next week,” he sniffled, snot escaping from his nose.
“I’m so sorry, buddy,” I replied. “I’ll go watch it if you want.”
A small smile escaped and Jackson said, “Okay, thank you.”
I had a pit in my stomach. I selfishly worried that Parker would shut me out and we’d never get the chance to make us official. I was disgusted with myself and how I was handling the situation. I knew I needed to be there for her, but there was also a part of me that knew she’d push me away, and I’d never get the chance to love her like I knew I could.
I pulled out my phone and texted my parents.
10:21pm: Parker’s mom didn’t make it. Going to stay here with her until she goes home. Love you
10:43pm: Heading to Parker’s house. Her dad is a wreck so I’m driving them home. Will probably stay for a while to help out.
10:44 from Mom: OMG! Sending my love. I’ll bake them all something tomorrow to bring over. What’s their favorite?
10:44 from Dad: Don’t forget you have school tomorrow. Curfew was almost two hours ago.
My dad sure was always there to show some compassion. If I missed school, I couldn’t go to practice. If someone missed practice, they weren’t a starter. I needed “starter” on my record for every single game for the scouts. I knew I needed to go home and sleep so I could go to school the next day, but I also needed to be there for Parker and her family.
10:46pm: I’ll be home tonight, don’t worry. Ma, I know Parker and Jackson like chocolate cupcakes and double fudge brownies. Love you.
I put my phone away and helped Parker into the front seat of my car. Kenton and Jackson sat in the back seat. Kenton hadn’t spoken since the doctor left. There were a few papers that he needed to sign, and the hospital morgue would take care of the rest.
“I’ll have to contact our lawyer tomorrow to look at her will,” Kenton spoke up a few minutes after we left the hospital. “I doubt it was an extensive will since she was so young…” he trailed off, looking out the window.
I held my hand on the center console, but Parker never took it. I didn’t know if she even saw it, but I wasn’t going to pry. The car was silent on the way home aside from the faint sound of the radio playing.
“Three men went into the local art gallery tonight and…” I quickly switched the radio station, not interested in hearing the same story over again. The TV in the hospital played it over and over, and every time a knot clenched in my stomach.
At that time, there were nine people that had died. Nine people didn’t get to go home to their families. It made me sick. It made me sick knowing that there would be so many families grieving, and it killed me knowing that Parker was one of them.
I clasped the steering wheel tightly, watching as my knuckles became lighter. I wanted to scream because I didn’t understand how people could be so cruel. I wanted to yell because I didn’t understand how Parker could possibly handl
e another tragedy at the mere age of seventeen.
I am deeply sorry for your loss. Parker had already lost so many friends, her innocence, her trust in others, and this was the worst of all. My heart began to ache as we neared her house. I had only been there once. I had only met her mother once. She was kind, she was quiet; she was exactly like Parker.
Parker
My body ached. It felt as if someone had dropped a weight on my chest and wouldn’t pick it up. I’m sorry for your loss. I knew I would be hearing that a lot the week or two after the incident. I always thought if someone were to say sorry, it was because they did something wrong. But were they going to apologize to all of the families that they ruined? They were the only ones that should have been apologizing, though I knew I didn’t want to hear it.
When my grandmother died, people brought a lot of food to my mother. Apparently food is supposed to give you comfort. I guess that’s why they call it “comfort food”. I wasn’t sure I could ever eat again, not with this weight pressing down on me.
A week had passed, and I barely spoke to RJ. I told him that I needed space. I took a week off from school and told RJ that I didn’t want to see him. He tried to stop by the house a couple times, but my dad turned him away.
I didn’t know why I let my dad turn him away, and why I didn’t want him near me. I had let him know my darkest secret, yet it felt wrong to let him into this. He had only met my mom once, so he didn’t understand who she was or how important she was.
My mom kept our family together, so what were we supposed to do? How could we be whole again? I couldn’t let RJ see me as someone who was broken. He finally knew me and understood me, but I didn’t want him to feel bad for me. I didn’t need him to take care of me. I quickly learned to take care of myself, because Dad was a mess and Jackson was still in denial. It was my time to be the leader of the family. I had to piece together what was broken, but how?
RJ text me a couple hours before the funeral. He had text me every day before that too, even though I never responded. This time something inside of me pulled at my heart and made me respond.
He said: Thinking about you. I’ll text you after the game. Miss you.
I responded with: Meet up tomorrow? Miss you too…
It was true; I did miss him. I missed laughing with him and seeing him smile. I knew that a hug from him would make me feel safe, but I worried. It felt wrong to want happiness with someone while my mother lay inside a casket.
We had to drive to Georgia for the funeral. Mom wanted to be buried next to her mother and father, so we granted her that. My heart ached knowing that I couldn’t visit her all the time, but it helped to know that she’d be with Mimi and Poppy. My mother’s whole family was from Georgia, so we were all able to mourn together.
There was something about seeing my mother’s pale face in a casket that made me really notice how beautiful she was. I tried to only look at her face, knowing that under her clothes there were bullet holes that ended her life. She looked so peaceful, as if she didn’t suffer. I kept telling myself that she wasn’t in any pain, but I knew that wasn’t true. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
My mother was shot and killed in a mass shooting.
More than one gunman went into a peaceful art gallery and thought it was okay to kill almost a dozen people.
My mother didn’t come home that night. She was never coming home again.
I kneeled by her casket for a few minutes. I reached out and grabbed her hand. It was cold to the touch, and I hoped my body heat would warm her up. I continued to stare at her face, trying to remember every detail about her. It looked like she was wearing a thin layer of makeup, though she rarely ever did that. “I’m an artist, but I could care less about being the canvas,” she used to say.
Her lips were a light shade of pink, and her cheeks matched. Her hair was brushed behind her ears, and it was smooth when I reached out to touch it. I wanted to see her eyes one last time, but I knew I couldn’t. I wanted to remember how they sparkled when the light touched them at just the right angle, as if they weren’t the deepest color of mud. “You’re lucky you don’t have my dirty eyes,” my mother would always say. “You have everything about me, but you have your father’s beautiful ocean eyes.”
I closed my eyes and in that moment, I wished they were dark brown, just like Mom’s.
After a few minutes, I squeezed my mother’s hand one last time. I kissed her cold cheek and a teardrop fell onto her. I brushed her hair back once more, feeling how soft it was beneath my fingers. “Bye, Mama,” I whispered as I released her hair and walked away.
I stood in line next to my father and Jackson. As time passed, many friends and family members walked by us, giving out hugs and their condolences. The words “I’m sorry for your loss” will forever be etched in my mind.
“They say sorry as if they could’ve done something about it,” my dad said after the funeral. “Why do we always apologize when there’s a tragedy? They couldn’t have stopped this. No one could have.”
I had never seen my dad cry before that day in the hospital. He cried every day leading up to the funeral, though. It was as if he hadn’t stopped crying. His eyes were always red, and he constantly looked exhausted. My rough and tough father looked so much older, and so much weaker. He was drained from all of the grief, and his physical appearance was taking a toll just as much as his mental state.
Jackson was still confused. He cried occasionally when he thought about our mother not attending his school play, or when she wasn’t available to tuck him in at night. Other times, he’d laugh and play as if nothing had happened; as if our mother was still downstairs painting a new landscape for another art show.
I wasn’t sure I could ever set foot in another art studio again.
RJ
We won the first round of playoffs. The game was the day of Nancy’s funeral, so I had a hard time focusing. Before the game, I text Parker, not thinking that she would respond to me. To my surprise, she responded, and she even wanted to meet up the next day. My heart skipped a beat when I read that text message, though I worried that it could be bad. Would she end things indefinitely before they even began, or was there still hope for us? Thoughts ran wildly through my mind during the football game.
I dropped a couple easy passes in the game, but quickly made up for them by scoring twice, and having a sixty-yard catch to put us ten yards away from the end zone. “It would’ve been a touchdown if you were running a bit faster,” my dad said after the game. It was as good of a congratulations as I was going to get.
3:15pm: Won the game. Wish I could be there with you. Send my love to your family<3
6:30pm from Parker: Trust me, you don’t wish you were here. Congrats on winning the game. Can I come over tomorrow afternoon? Driving back early in the morning.
6:34pm: Yes. See you then.
Read 6:35pm
I was selfishly thinking about the next day. What did she want to talk about? Was I going to be enough for her during such a challenging time in her life? It made me feel sick that I was thinking about myself and our potential relationship, but I couldn’t help it. The thoughts kept popping up in my demented head, and they wouldn’t go away. Not until I really knew what was going on.
Parker knocked on my door at 6:45 the next evening. My mother answered the door and encircled her in a hug. “Oh, sweet girl,” my mom said softly, rubbing Parker’s back. When she finally let her go, Parker let out a sad smile. Her eyes still twinkled as the light hit them, but they weren’t as light this time.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” Parker said quietly. She peered over my mom’s shoulder and waved to me. I walked up to her and hugged her. She hugged me back, squeezing tightly around my waist.
I didn’t even hear my mother leave us alone, but she wasn’t there when the hug ended. I kept one arm around Parker’s back, and she nestled her head into my body. She looked up at me and said, “I don’t really know why I came here, but I also don’
t really know why I didn’t want to see you the past week. I’m really confused right now.”
“I understand,” I replied. “Well, I don’t understand, but I want to try. I’ll admit that I’ve been selfish about all of this, and it makes me sick about it.”
“Let’s go talk,” Parker said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs.
We sat on my bed across from one another. Parker crossed her legs and sat up straight, interlocking her fingers and twirling her thumbs. I leaned up against the back of my bed and waited for her to speak. I knew she was twirling her thumbs because she was thinking about what to say first. She always seemed to fidget when she was thinking.
A few moments passed before she spoke up. “So, obviously things haven’t been easy for the past week. I doubt it’ll really get better any time soon either. I just don’t think it’s fair to you that I’m doing this to you.”
“Parker…” I began, “you aren’t doing anything to me. You’re grieving. Sure, selfishly I have been wondering what we are, but I am willing to wait to figure that out. I will wait for you as long as I need to. I’ve learned in the small time that I’ve known you that I want to be with you. I want to be there for whatever you need. I refuse to try to help you, because I know you don’t need or want it. I do want to be around though for when you may need just an extra smile or a big hug.”
Parker smiled and reached out her hand for mine. I took it and smiled back, waiting for her to reply.
“I wanted a time where I could be weak and not have anyone see me like that,” Parker said softly. “I needed a time where you weren’t around to see me at such a low point. As I thought more about it, I realized that having you around wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Wouldn't be so bad?” I laughed, playfully shoving Parker’s knee away.
“You know what I mean,” Parker said. She wasn’t in the mood for being playful yet, I understood that.
“I would never see you as weak,” I said. “Now that I’ve gotten to know you, I know that you aren’t weak. Not a chance.”