25. David
25
David
S omething woke me. It took about two seconds for me to realize it was my sister jostling me. Shaking my shoulder while saying my name.
“Hey. David.”
I peeled open first one eyelid and then the other as I tried to focus while struggling to sit upright. It didn’t take very long for me to realize that was going to be more difficult than I’d imagined.
The muscles in my back had pretty much seized up from spending two nights in a chair next to my father’s hospital bed.
“Hey.” I rubbed both hands over my face and groaned. “What time is it?”
“About ten-thirty.”
I wrinkled up my face. “Great.”
I’d actually managed to get some sleep after I’d made my mother finally go home at six this morning.
“You look like crap.”
“Wow. Thanks, sis. Love you too.” Even though I was barely functioning as a human, sarcasm came easy to me this morning.
“I’m telling you that because I love you. Go home. Shower. Eat something not from the vending machine or the cafeteria. Lay down in a real bed for a few hours. You’ve been here for days.”
She was right. And I was starting to smell like I’d been here for days.
Luckily, my suitcase was still in the truck so I had changed clothes once during my bedside vigil and at least I had a toothbrush and deodorant. But washing with soap and water and scratchy brown paper towels in the bathroom sink here could only keep a man from stinking for so long.
If nothing else, I needed to stretch my legs—and my back. A nice pounding hot shower on my screaming muscles might keep me from being a cripple.
“Okay.” I stood. “You’ll stay until I get back?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Where’s the rug rat?” I asked.
“Preschool.”
“Preschool?” I frowned. “Jesus, isn’t he like three?”
“It’s only half a day.”
Damn, times had changed. I don’t remember going to school until I was like six. Maybe five. But my experience with modern parenting, if written down, would fill a matchbook so I didn’t question my sister.
“All right.” My gaze hit upon the man motionless on the bed. He looked less like my father every day. “Call me if he wakes up.”
“I will.”
We didn’t discuss it any more than that. I didn’t want to admit aloud that I was rapidly losing hope. If Amy still had any, who was I to squash it?
“Okay. I’m going. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
She nodded. “All right. No rush.”
I was like a zombie when I left the room. I paused for a moment to get my bearings and figure out where I was going. I finally comprehended that I needed to turn right toward the exit and my truck in the parking lot, since I’d been turning left to the bathroom and the cafeteria for days now.
I was just walking through the exit door, fishing in my pocket for my keys and wondering when the sun had gotten so damn glaring, when my sister’s voice stopped me.
Turning, I saw her running after me with my cell phone in her hand. “You forgot this.”
My spare charger was in California. And now I’d left the charger I’d grabbed from the house and my phone both in the ER.
I let out a sigh. “What else is new?”
“Somebody called. It was vibrating so I answered it,” Amy said.
“Oh? Who was it?”
“I don’t know. They hung up when I answered. Maybe it was a solicitor? I didn’t recognize the area code.”
“Okay.” I took the phone, too tired to worry about it. I could look at the incoming call log and see the number later. No big deal. “See you in a little while.”
“Take your time. David, I’m serious.”
“Yes, Mother.” My lips twitched as she narrowed her gaze at me.
She turned toward the entrance again, mumbling, “Smart ass.”
Chuckling, I headed for the truck. I felt better just being out of the canned air of the hospital and in the sunshine. Even the traffic would be a pleasure compared to the steady beep-beep-beep of the monitors.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and set my cell in the console. Then I remembered the call. It took a few times of me hitting the wrong buttons. I probably shouldn’t even be driving I was so damn tired. But finally, I got my call log up.
And there I saw it. My most recent incoming call. All of four seconds long.
I recognized the number. I just hadn’t gotten around to saving it to my contact list yet.
It was Heather.
My sister said the caller had hung up when she’d answered.
Heather had called me and hung up when a woman answered my cell. It didn’t take much to leap to the conclusion of what she must have thought hearing Amy’s voice on my phone.
Fuck.
I hadn’t even closed the door of the truck yet as I hit to recall the number.
It rang and rang then I got the voicemail prompt. I hated voicemail but I sure as fuck was going to leave one now.
“Heather. It’s David. I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch. My dad’s back in the hospital. I, uh, see you called. My sister answered the phone. Call me back. Okay? Bye.”
I wanted to say I wished I could see her right now. I wanted to apologize for being a self-centered dumbass for not calling or texting for—how long had it been? I’d lost track of time in the bubble that was my father’s curtained cubicle in ICU.
Excuses. Explanations. None of it would matter if I couldn’t get her to talk to me.
I deserved whatever I got for driving around with a dead cell for a day, and then being too consumed in my own misery to remember to call from the hospital when I’d finally charged it.
My only hope was that she’d listen to the voicemail. It wasn’t much but I was running a little short on hope all around right now.