Henry
Last night, Tati insisted on following the ambulance in her car, then stuck around at the hospital even after the ER doctor shared her diagnosis—alcohol poisoning, head laceration, minor concussion—and her plan for treatment: oxygen therapy and a steady drip of fluids, vitamins, and glucose.
“We used a few staples to close the wound on his head,” Dr. Bowen told Tati and me with zero inflection. “He’s going to be sore when he wakes up, but he’s lucky. Drinking as much as he did can be life-threatening.”
After she left, I let my head fall into my hands and blew out a heavy breath.
I stayed that way a long time.
Tati sat beside me, silent, for the duration.
“You should go home,” I told her sometime around two in the morning. “You’ve done more than enough.”
She looked at me like I’d insulted her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A long time passed before she spoke again, quietly and with a lot less poise. “I’m afraid this is my fault.”
I gaped at her. “How do you figure?”
“Your dad came by last night. He wanted to talk things out.” She lowered her voice, leaning in a little.
“He’d been drinking. Too much. I can’t enable that kind of behavior.
I can’t subject my little sister to it, especially considering what happened to our parents.
Also, I don’t have the emotional energy to act as someone else’s mother.
So I told him to go home. Two hours later, you called.
I knew in my gut that something bad had happened. ”
“God, Tati.” Her parents—Piper’s parents—were killed by a drunk driver. It’s no wonder she has no tolerance for Davis’s bullshit. I swallowed around the stone that had been lodged in my throat since I’d walked in on Damon cornering Piper. “I’m sorry he bothered you. I’m sorry he—”
Lost control, is what I was going to say, but is that even it?
Is Davis capable of controlling his drinking?
“No need to apologize,” Tati told me. “You’re not to blame for your father’s actions.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not up for making things right at the moment. I hope you know that tonight, and whatever happened between you guys last week…that’s not my dad. I mean, it is, these days. But he’s better than that. Or he used to be.”
The truth is, I hardly knew Davis before this summer.
The last six weeks, he hasn’t been authentic.
He puts on this cool-guy facade that’s so overblown it’d be comical if it weren’t so tragic.
But he’s not a jerk at his core. He’s lonely and possibly a little sad, and he needs help.
I knew, sitting there in the waiting room, that he probably needed more help than this tiny hospital was gonna be able to offer him.
“I’ve known your dad a while now,” Tati said.
“Since Christmas. Piper told me.”
She smiled, sheepish. “He’s compassionate, driven, and funny. But it seems like he’s losing that version of himself.”
I nodded somberly. She’d put my worries into words. It felt like permission to be scared. To be pissed. To ask for help. Permission to demand that Dad ask for help.
She patted my arm. “He and I need some time apart, but you’re welcome to call me anytime. I’m always around if you need someone.”
“Thanks,” I said, hoping she understood how much I meant it.
I miss my mom, but last night, Tati was a pretty okay substitute.
Piper’s lucky.
Like she was listening in on my thoughts, Tati said, “Have you talked to my sister?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to bother her with this.”
She gave me a mystified look. “She wouldn’t feel bothered. She’d want to be here with us. With you.” She sighed, closing her eyes a minute. When she opened them, she looked bone-tired. “She came home from Hudson’s with Gabi. Why, when she went there with you?”
Because a lot of crazy shit went down, I thought.
But I had no idea how much Piper had shared with Tati, and I wasn’t about to tell her story without her approval. I went with, “I figured out some stuff about why she and Gabi spent most of the summer not talking.”
“Ah,” Tati said. “The Damon story.”
So she did know.
“That guy’s a—” Fucking jackass, I wanted to say. But talking to Tati felt too much like talking to a parent, so I finished a lot less colorfully, “Troublemaker.”
She laughed without humor. “He should be confined to a cage with a dead bolt and no key.”
“Agreed.” I held out my hand, knuckles starting to turn purple. “He ran into my fist.”
This time, she laughed genuinely. “To think that your dad’s always going on about how wholesome you are.”
I gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Nobody’s perfect.”
“Chivalrous is better than perfect. That little shit needed to be put in his place.”
“That’s how I saw it too.” This thing with my dad has been terrible, but learning what happened to Piper, then witnessing a near sequel has been unbearable.
“Not gonna lie,” I said to Tati, “watching Piper leave with Gabi sucked.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’ve watched her leave a lot of times. Running from hurtful situations is how she copes. I’m not making excuses for her—she can be insufferable—but she’s a lot like those sea turtles she loves so much. Protective shell, soft and vulnerable underneath.”
We fell quiet. Tati moved to the other side of the room and lay down across two chairs, curled up with her arm crooked under her head, eyes falling closed.
I was running on adrenaline and dealing with major sensory overload.
The hospital lived and breathed, doctors and nurses hustling by, people filtering through the waiting room, beeps and alarms and intercom pages echoing through the corridor. It was busy, considering the hour.
Through the high windows, I watched the sky slowly lighten.
Tati startled awake when Dr. Bowen arrived with an update.
“Mr. Walker is doing well,” she announced. “Rehydrated. Breathing stably. Still resting. You’ll be able to see him soon.”
“Thank you,” Tati said.
While I was relieved, a new sort of dread eddied around me. What was I gonna say to my dad, this man who was supposed to shelter me but had scared the ever-loving shit out of me instead?
After the doctor walked out, Tati turned to me. “I’m going to head home. I need to check in with Piper. But I can come back if you need me. I’m a phone call away.”
She squeezed my shoulder, and then she was gone.