Chapter Twenty-Six
Sejin
“D on’t be a martyr, babe,” Rye says over the phone.
He’s at Peggy Jo’s house now, having popped an allergy pill to take care of the cats for me. I texted Celli earlier to let her know she’s off the hook for tonight, but that I’ll still need her to go over tomorrow morning at least.
“Look, he’s going to be asleep on those drugs all night long, and then they’ll knock him out even more before surgery, and he won’t be out of that until probably noon or so. Those things take hours.”
I want to ask him how he knows all this, but maybe it’s just part of his EMT and rescue training? Or maybe he has personal experience. I don’t know.
“Believe me, Dan won’t even know you’re gone.”
“But what if he needs me?”
“He’s in good hands there. You need some rest. Get an Uber to a motel and sleep in a real bed at least.”
I ponder my financial situation. I have a credit card my father gave me when I left West Virginia with instructions to only use it in an emergency.
I suppose this counts. The nurses had mentioned the motel across from the hospital isn’t too expensive or terrible, and a lot of patients’ families stay there.
“What if he wakes up and asks for me?”
“He’ll be asleep again before they can even explain where you went.”
I both want to believe him and don’t want to believe him. I’m exhausted, and I feel like I could use a shower more than a bed. It’s the lure of feeling clean, and not like I’m stewing in my own disgusting sweat, that leads me to make the decision to go.
The motel is just like any other. I check in without issue on the card my dad gave me, noting that it’s only four months from expiring, and until now I’ve never used it once. I take my key and climb the exterior, concrete steps up to the second-floor rooms and enter mine without problem.
The place isn’t beautiful, but it’ll do for a shower and a night’s sleep.
The spread over the bed is brown floral—of course—as I collapse on it with my backpack still on. I work it off my shoulders and then flip over to lie staring up at the popcorn plastered ceiling.
God, what a fucking horrible day.
Was it only this morning that I woke to find Dan’s van gone? And I’d left the cats with nothing more than egg scraps in their bowls? Even if Rye’s great with them, they’ll be very angry when I get back; I’m sure of it. They’re like that.
Was it only this morning that I stood in the meadow certain that Dan was dead or dying?
Was it only hours ago that I’d been reassured he’d live—barring unforeseen events?
Was it less than an hour ago that I left him alone in the hospital?
And was it really only slightly more than an hour ago that he’d asked me when he could start training again ?
“Oh, God,” I whisper, and it comes out like a sob.
I turn my head to gaze out the motel window into the glare of the parking lot lights.
I try to summon the energy to stand up and close the curtains, get myself into the shower, and get ready for bed, but instead I just study the light patterns on the window smudges, trying to make sense of Dan, his world, and my place in it.
My phone dings, and I nearly jump out of my skin, my nerves are so raw.
The message is a photo of little Amelia Rose, Peggy Jo’s new granddaughter. Peggy Jo’s sent it to the group chat she created with Dan and me. My stomach drops.
Peggy Jo. Ugh.
I’m going to have to tell her about Dan.
The baby’s fat cheeks and wrinkled face resemble a little old man, just like all new babies do, but Peggy Jo looks so happy holding her.
Isn’t she a beauty? the text message reads.
I react with a heart emoji and then type out with shaking fingers: is it too late to call you?
Peggy Jo doesn’t reply. Instead my phone begins to ring.
“Is it about Muggs?” she asks. “Is that cat giving you trouble?”
“Dan fell,” I say quietly. “On the free solo.”
Peggy Jo goes utterly silent, and it takes me too long to realize she thinks he’s dead.
I rush out with, “He’s mostly okay. He landed on a ledge. You know the one he’d decided to downclimb to? The one under the roof of the Heart Formation?”
“He’s alive? ” she asks like she can’t let herself believe it.
“Yeah. He’s alive. But he’s injured.”
“All, right. I’m on my way,” she says instantly with a motherly authority that brings tears to my eyes. “I need to figure out flights, and—”
“No, Peggy Jo, don’t. He’s not in danger now.
It’s a broken leg—a compound break, so it’s kind of gruesome—but it’s not lethal.
He’s got some chipped teeth, a facial laceration, contusions, that sort of thing.
It’s a miracle there’s nothing life-threatening, so long as his leg doesn’t get infected.
He’s going to be okay for the most part.
I mean there’s a lot of healing ahead, but what I’m saying is there’s nothing you can do for him.
You’re better off staying with your daughter and the baby. ”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“He’s alive…” I say again. “Everyone says it’s a miracle.”
Peggy Jo is quiet and then says fiercely, “What you say might be true—”
“It is true.”
“—but I need to see him.”
I get that. I’d needed to see him with my own eyes after the meadow too.
“He looks horrible,” I say, and my voice breaks. “He looks worse than he is.” I bat at the damn tears again. They keep coming, though, and I start to cry for real. “He looks awful , and his leg…his leg is really bad.”
“Oh, baby.”
“Peggy Jo…”
“I know, I know, honey.”
“I was so fucking scared.”
“I know…”
“I had to wait for hours for them to bring him down. I had to drive to Fresno not knowing how bad it was. I know this isn’t about me, but I thought I’d lost him, and it scared me so bad.”
“Sweet Sejin, I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”
Tears slip down my cheeks and I say, “I wasn’t alone. Lowell Moody helped. Rye was there with Dan up on the wall. People texted. Celli and Rye are taking care of the cats.”
“Of course people wanted to help you.”
“Do you want to know the worst thing, Peggy Jo? He wants to train again. He was asking in the hospital, before they’ve even done surgery to fix his leg, he was asking when he can train.”
“He’s stubborn.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.” My voice cracks. “I love him so much, but if he’s going to just go out and get himself killed for real… how do I live with that?”
“Sweet boy…”
“And you know what else?”
“What?”
“I really miss my mom. I miss my mom so much.”
My tears won’t stop, and Peggy Jo clucks soothing sounds to me.
I feel guilty letting go like this because I know Dan is like a son to her, and she has to be scared too, but I can’t keep myself from finally losing my shit entirely.
I grab hold of a pillow and cradle it against myself, trying to hold it together.
“I’ll book flights in the morning,” Peggy Jo says after I’ve finally calmed down to just a few hiccupping tears. “I’ll be there. Don’t you worry. I’ll be there, Sejin.”
“No, no, just stay with your grandbaby.”
“But you need—”
“I’ll be okay.” I wipe at my eyes and get myself together. “I think I just needed a good cry. I get that you need to see Dan, but you can talk with him on FaceTime tomorrow after his surgery. That’ll reassure you that he’s still his same old self.”
She hesitates, and I can almost hear her debating it.
“There’s nothing you can do for him, and your daughter needs you. This time with the baby is so precious.”
“It’s true. They don’t stay little for long…” She sighs. “But I don’t want Dan to think I don’t care.”
“He’d never think that.”
“You’ll keep me informed? We’ll talk when he’s not listening so I know the truth?”
“Of course.”
“Alright. So, what do I do? Wait?”
“Yeah. Be with your daughter and wait. I’ll text you after the surgery tomorrow and let you know how it went, and then again when he’s awake.”
“It’s a plan.”
I can tell she’s shaken, and I wish I could hug her.
When we get off the phone, I flop back onto the motel bed and stare at the ceiling again.
I’m grateful that she offered to come for my sake, and for Dan’s, but I don’t want Peggy Jo.
I want my mom, but she’s gone for good. And today I almost lost Dan too.
I curl in on myself, clenching the pillow to my chest, and try to sleep.