I’m the jealous type. I’m smart-mouthed and sometimes brash. I don’t like to share. I can’t cook anything that doesn’t come from a microwavable container. I hate talking on the phone—texting works just as good without the awkward silences that come from a phone call. And I would do absolutely anything and everything for the people I love. That is why I’m sitting in a hospital room, missing my twelve-year-old dance students perform the routine I spent all summer creating, perfecting, and teaching, because my mom needed me.
The Vancouver game was two weeks ago. Our team won by a single goal, much to the referees displeasure. Since then, everything had been fine, great even. I hadn’t spent a single night at my own apartment, for which I am more than thankful since I’m still avoiding Jessica’s hormonal ass. I slowly started sneaking some of my things into an already half-empty drawer in Tyler’s dresser. He still hadn’t mentioned anything about my few pairs of granny panties or my makeup bag before I was leaving for the hospital a few days ago, so I chose to take that as a good sign.
The pungent odour of disinfectant and sick people that blasts through the vents is what pushed me to go buy four dozen bouquets of daisies for Mom’s room. I hoped that it would help her feel a bit more comfortable. I know that if I were stuck in one of these hideous ICU rooms with absolutely no decor or privacy and a T.V the size of a lunch tray, that that’s what I would want. And when I saw the grateful smile that greeted me when I had one of the nurses help me bring in the flowers, I knew I was right to assume she would appreciate the same thing.
‘I think I’ll go out tonight and pick up a bright bedspread or something, Momma. The amount of beige in this room should be illegal,’ I ramble and slide another coat of Ruby Rose nail polish on my thumbnail. The low rumbling of the television that hangs from the wall across the bed helps drone out the eerie silence that more often than not plagues this room.
As per usual, we’re waiting on the doctor, and Desperate Housewives reruns are the only thing helping take Mom’s mind off of her diagnosis. Or at least I hope they are. She hasn’t said much lately.
‘It’s only for a few more days, baby,’ she replies, voice harsh and sounding more unsure than I think she knows she’s letting on. It’s been the same way for the past three days.
‘Oakley should be here soon. Tyler told me that they got back to town this morning.’ I change the subject and tighten the cap on my nail polish, setting it back inside my overnight bag. It’s around three in the afternoon now so Oakley should be here any minute.
She smiles at the mention of my brother and nods before a wet cough pushes up her throat. It causes her to grasp awkwardly at her chest in a way that makes my eyes water as I rush towards her. I grip her shoulder and push her into a sitting position and rub her back like the nurses told me to. I squeeze my eyes shut and envelope the hand held against her chest in mine, pulling it towards me.
The coughing subsides a couple of minutes later and I let go of her hand so that I grab the full glass of water from her bedside. I bring it to her lips and urge her to take a sip. When she does without arguing, I finally release some of the tension in my shoulders and breathe.
‘I’m sorry,’ she croaks, avoiding my eyes and staring at one of the scratchy hospital blankets wrapped around her thinning legs. ‘You shouldn’t still be here taking care of me, sweet pea. Go home and have a shower or sleep in your own bed.’
Yeah, I could go for a shower and a night in a bed that didn’t have springs shooting into my back and wouldn’t creak whenever I so much as breathed, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not without knowing if she was okay or not.
‘Maybe when Oakley gets here,’ I reply. ‘I don’t want you to be alone. Not here.’
She knows she won’t be able to convince me to leave. She hasn’t been able to since I got here, so she nods and turns back to her show. When her door is pushed open a few minutes later, I nearly burst into tears. Bringing a finger up to my lips, I shush Oakley. He nods and quietly sets a bag down on the floor by the bathroom and joins me on the couch.
As soon as he sits down, I’m tucked into his side. His arms move to shield me from the empty room as I cry, soaking his black hoodie. I keep quiet, only letting silent sobs shake my body as he rubs my arm. He sighs heavily, ‘She’ll be okay, Gray. Go home. I got this. I’ll let you know what the doctor says later. I promise.” My sobs have now transitioned into pitiful afterthoughts, my cheeks still wet.
‘I’ll text Tyler and ask him to pick me up. I don’t have my car here.’ Tyler dropped me off before the team left for Carolina. I was too busy crying to bring myself. Crying seems to be the only thing I’m doing lately. I suddenly feel more pathetic than sad.
‘He’s already outside. He followed me here, swearing up and down that he wasn’t letting you stay in the hospital another night without recharging at home.’
I pull back, surprised. I use the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe my face. ‘He is? He did?’
‘Yeah. I would go before the guy storms the place,’ he snorts before silently cursing himself for being loud.
‘Are you sure? I’m scared that something. . .’ I trail off, not wanting to speak the words into reality. If I keep them to myself, it’ll be like they were never said. Right?
‘She’ll be fine. I’ll have my phone on me the whole time.’
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to nod, stretching my arms above my head. My muscles constrict with immediate relief. I’ve been hunched over for way too long.
Oakley is already up and reaching for my bag and pillow by the time I stand up and move over to Mom. I place a gentle kiss on the crown of her head and let myself soak in her sweet honey scent. I turn back after a few seconds and grab my bag from Oakley, throwing it up over my shoulder and clutching my pillow.
‘Text me every hour. I’m serious.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He pulls me into his chest and I sigh when I return the hug. The dread I’ve been feeling is coming to a head, and I know that if I don’t leave now I probably never will. So when we pull back a few heartbeats later, I nod, more to myself than to him, and push myself out of the room before I have the chance to change my mind.
I feel instant relief when I see the beaten-down Ford parked in the hospital’s drop-off zone. Tyler leans against the passenger door. He has his left hand in the pocket of his ripped jeans and thick black eyebrows scrunched as he stares down at the phone resting in the hand. He has a pink lip held between his teeth and a leg bouncing anxiously, his foot tapping the pavement.
The corners of my mouth twitch and a small smile fills the space between my cheeks. He notices me a few feet away and instantly puts away his phone. He opens his arms for me to walk straight into and I do without hesitation. It isn’t even a breath later that I feel a wave of exhaustion and anguish blow me back onto my ass. I’m sure that if it weren’t for the two solid, thick arms wrapped around me, I would have collapsed on the curb.
‘Are you okay?’ Tyler asks softly, his words brushing through the knotted strands of hairs blanketing my ear. I nod, too tired to respond verbally. He doesn’t believe me, I can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders, but he doesn’t push me to tell him otherwise. I think I give him another piece of me right then and there.
He keeps our bodies connected, not daring to let go of me yet and spins us around so he can open the passenger door behind me. He helps me into my seat, does up my seatbelt, and places a soft kiss on my cheek while hot, fat tears begin to cascade down my cheeks. He uses his thumb to wipe them away as they fall, but there’s no use. I reach up and grab his wrist, moving it away with a shake of my head. I lift the neck of my sweatshirt over my face instead to dry the tears, hoping that they’ll stop sooner rather than later. At this point, I’m not even sure how I have any tears left to shed.
Of all the things it could have been, it would be something so simple that threatens to take down the strongest woman I have ever known. Bacterial pneumonia. An illness that she should have made a full recovery from—and she did, for a few weeks. At least we thought she did. But now I don’t even know if she’ll ever recover from it.
I need to puke.
‘I just want to crawl into bed with you. Can we go now?’
The brown in his eyes is darker today, moving from the hazelnut colour I’m used to to a dark chocolate one, but I shake it off. He presses his lips to my jaw, then the corner of my mouth before he speaks again. ‘Yeah, baby. Let’s go home.
