Chapter 39 Guilt Trip
Chapter thirty-nine
Guilt Trip
Marigold Belmore
As soon as Jameson hit the ice, I knew something was wrong. I felt it in my gut. And that feeling was confirmed when he didn’t get up right away. My heart is pounding in my chest as I look from my phone to the TV, waiting for one of the devices to tell me what’s going on.
“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asks as she enters the living room. She’s been baking cookies in the kitchen, coming out occasionally to check the score.
I look up from my spot on the couch.
“Jameson got hurt, but I don’t know how bad or what’s happening.”
I should be there. Instead, I’m working on an article that means nothing in comparison to him. I think back to our last conversations, and my stomach turns uneasy. I know he’s not dying or anything, but I hate that he’s hurt while we’re not in agreement.
“Marigold.” Jasmine’s voice breaks into my thoughts. She sets her hands on my shoulders. “Breathe. He’s going to be okay. I’m sure he’ll call soon, or the announcers will say something. Did you see what happened?”
I draw in a breath. “One of the other players tripped him, and he came down awkwardly on his bad knee. I’m worried that he tore something. He’ll be so upset if that happens.”
Jasmine gives me an understanding look. She’s dating an athlete in an injury-prone sport as well, so she knows what it’s like to worry about things like this.
“Bash is friends with the orthopedic doctor on staff here,” Jasmine says, her eyes lighting at the thought. “I can call him and see about getting any information?”
Bash, a.k.a. Sebastian Holt, is a part of Jasmine’s family—though I can never keep up with how—and he’s also the head football coach here at the university.
“I would love that,” I tell her with a small smile. “I think I’ll call his mom to see if she knows anything.”
Jasmine nods. “That sounds like a good plan. Let me go grab my phone!”
She rushes into the kitchen and I pull up Rose’s number. The phone rings once before she answers.
“Is he okay?” she asks in a rush.
My heart sinks. That means she doesn’t know anything.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’m not at the game, and I haven’t gotten any texts or calls.”
“I tried calling him but I didn’t get an answer. I’m not sure if he has his phone. We’re his emergency contact, so I expect to hear from someone soon, but I hate waiting,” Rose frets.
“I’m sorry, I wish I had more answers. I stayed home to work on a project.”
“Don’t be sorry, little flower. You aren’t the jerk who tripped him.”
I laugh a little at the venom in her sweet voice.
“I just feel like I should have been there. Maybe if I was, I’d have better information.”
“You couldn’t have known what was happening. And school is more important than making it to every game. He’s going to have hundreds more.”
My guilt grows heavier. Was working on the paper more important than supporting Jameson? If it was my dream the answer would feel less … awful. But Jameson’s words have been pricking at my conscience and making me wonder if I made the right choice.
Jasmine comes back into the room, phone pressed to her ear.
“Bash says he can’t legally ask Dr. St. James to give any of Jameson’s information, but that the protocol in situations like this is usually a hospital visit for tests. His parents should hear from someone soon if they’re his emergency contact.”
“Thank you,” I tell Jasmine, and then relay her words to Rose.
“Oh that’s good to know. I think we’ll head to the hospital closest to the university since it’ll take us a little while. Are you going to visit? I can let the doctor know when they call to let you back if they’ll allow it,” Rose says.
“I’ll head there now. Hopefully you hear back soon,” I reply as I stand up off the couch.
“I’ll text you any info I get as soon as I have it.”
We say our goodbyes and then end the call.
“I’m going to the hospital,” I tell Jasmine, and head toward my room. “His parents are on their way, but they live in the suburbs so they’ll be at least a half hour if not more, depending on traffic.”
The nearest hospital is only a few blocks away, since it’s associated with the university and a lot of our med students end up training and working there.
“Do you want me to go with you?” she asks from my doorway as I’m pulling on Jameson’s old high school sweatshirt over my long-sleeved Thrashers shirt.
“No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want you to have to wait around. I’m sure he’s okay, but I want to be there for him anyway.”
Since I wasn’t at the game. Guilt piles on my chest like a too-full trash can.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Jasmine says with a sympathetic smile.
I grab my bag and start toward the front door to get my shoes. I give Jasmine a quick hug as thanks when I pass her.
My hands tremble slightly when I’m pulling on my tennis shoes. I’m glad Jameson sent food earlier, or else I’d be even worse off. Though him being so caring only makes me hate myself more.
“Wait!” Jasmine calls out as I near the door. I turn around. “Here are some cookies. For you and him. His family too.”
She hands me a box of still-warm cookies with a gentle smile. I return the expression, though I know mine is probably more tense.
“Thanks, Jaz. I appreciate you.”
“Update me when you get a chance. And remember to breathe.”
I nod, though the second part of her request feels difficult to adhere to. Cookies in one hand and my phone in the other, I rush out of the apartment and down to the lobby.
The drive to the hospital is an anxiety-filled blur. I keep telling myself he’s okay. The fall wasn’t that bad. There was no blood. But I also know how sneaky injuries can be. And that even if he’s okay, his life could be altered by something as simple as a torn tendon.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder as I’m putting my car in park. I snatch it up.
Rose: Just spoke with someone from the hockey staff. They said the hospital took Jameson back for an MRI a little while ago. He’s in pain, but okay.
I draw in a shaky breath and reply.
Marigold: I just got to the hospital. I’ll go in and find a waiting room to camp out in.
Her reply is fast.
Rose: Sounds good, sweetie. Stan and I are en route! I’ve told them to let you in, but you know how hospitals are. Feel free to sass them if they give you a hard time.
I let out a little laugh at her words, then grab my bag and turn off my car.
The air is crisp, and I’m glad I put on another layer before leaving.
I shove the box of cookies into my bag, then head toward the entrance.
I have no idea where I’m going, but if Jameson is getting an MRI, I’ve got time to figure it out before he’s done.
It takes me questioning three different staff members and taking one too many left turns before I finally find the waiting room on what I’m hoping is his floor.
Or at least nearby. The entire ordeal killed fifteen minutes.
I sit down in one of the uncomfortable chairs and wrinkle my nose at the stale smell in the air.
To try and detract from the smell, I open up the box of Jasmine’s cookies. The sweet scent masks the hospital ick.
I eat two of the glorious caramel-chocolate-pretzel confections before my phone buzzes again. My heart jumps when I see the name on the screen.
Jameson: They finally let me have my phone. I’m okay. Hoping I haven’t messed up my knee too badly.
I don’t waste any time replying.
Marigold: I saw the fall, it looked rough. I’m here at the hospital whenever you can have visitors, and your parents are on the way. How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?
Jameson: You’re here? I think you should be allowed to come back. I’m in room 308.
The sinking feeling returns. I want to see him and make sure he’s okay, but I’m also terrified that he’ll resent the fact that I wasn’t there because of the paper. Would he tell me if he was upset? Or would he just let me think everything was okay until it came up in an argument later?
I think back to all of my parents’ confrontations. Nothing is ever wrong until they decide they’ve had enough, and then they unleash the past on you like a weapon.
I shake my head. Jameson wouldn’t do that. He’s not like that, and never has been. It’s still hard not to worry that he’ll be, at the very least, disappointed, though.
The lid to the cookie box makes a loud snap in the empty waiting room as I close it. I return the box to my bag and leave the room to find Jameson. Fear isn’t going to keep me from being there for my best friend. I love him too much for that.