Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
LUKE
Sitting in the hospital parking lot feels a lot like waiting to go into the dentist’s office to have all my teeth pulled. I know that sounds extreme, but that’s how unsettled I currently am. While my mom will be happy to see me, I have no idea how my dad is going to react.
I turn off the car as soon as the Hosier song I’m listening to ends. That guy is a genius when it comes to singing about everyday life. I wonder if he could write a hit about my situation. He could call it something poetic like, “Paternal Disappointment.”
Getting out of my car, I walk determinedly into the hospital. I’m a thirty-two-year-old man for Pete’s sake, not some uncertain kid with no life experience. I sternly order myself to pull it together while stopping at the information counter to get my dad’s room number. I consider whether I should also go into the gift shop to get him some flowers, but ultimately decide he wouldn’t care one way or another, so I don’t bother.
I take the elevator to the third floor and then follow the signs to room 308. My heart is racing a million miles an hour. My mother came alone to my restaurant opening two years ago and I haven’t seen her since. I haven’t laid eyes on my dad in closer to four years. Growing up, there was no sign that anything could or would ever divide my family, which makes the whole situation hard to wrap my head around, especially when, oddly, I’m the one being blamed.
With a deep breath, I call on a supernatural force to push me through the door before I lose my courage and run in the other direction. It turns out that force isn’t paranormal, it’s human. “You must be John’s son,” I hear a voice over my shoulder say. “Your mother said you were on your way.”
I turn and greet a man in his sixties. He’s wearing a white coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. “Yes, hi,” I tell him. “I’m Luke. You must be my dad’s doctor.”
He stretches his hand in my direction. “Mark Butler. It’s nice to meet you.” He gestures for me to precede him through the door. He follows close enough behind that I have no choice but to keep moving.
My dad is lying on the only bed in the room. One leg and one arm are attached to a pulley system hanging above the bed. He looks like he’s in the throes of some medieval torture. Luckily he’s sleeping, so I don’t say anything.
My mom, who is sitting at his side, looks up and sees me. Tears flood her eyes as she stands up and walks into my arms. In the two years since I’ve seen her, she’s obviously become older, but there’s a new frailness about her that I don’t remember noticing before.
“Luke.” She exhales my name like it’s been on the tip of her tongue for months.
“Hey, Mom.” I hold her close while asking, “How are you doing?”
I look over to make sure my dad is still sleeping. “I’ve been better,” she says. “I swear to God, watching your dad’s body fall past the picture window in the living room took ten years off my life.”
“That had to be scary. ”
Dr. Butler steps closer to my mom. In a low voice he tells her, “We’ll keep him in traction for a few days to make sure he stays aligned.” He adds, “Landing with as much force as he did is a real shock to the system.”
“Jeez,” I whisper under my breath before asking, “Are there any other injuries?”
“He has a mild concussion,” the doctor tells me. “We just let him go to sleep after keeping him up for several hours which is probably why he didn’t wake up when he heard your voice. He’s exhausted and his body is desperate for rest.”
Personally, I’m grateful he didn’t wake up, but I don’t say that. “He’ll probably sleep for a while then.” Turning to my mom, I tell her, “Why don’t I stay with him while you go home and catch a nap?”
Her expression brightens. “Do you think that will be okay, Dr. Butler? I mean, is there anything you need me here for?”
He shakes his head and smiles kindly. “Taking care of yourself is the best thing you can do. We’ll keep an eye on your husband.” Gesturing toward me, he adds, “Your son can give you a call if there are any updates.”
Walking my mom out to the hall, I tell her, “Take as long as you want.”
She looks uncertain. “I kind of wanted to be here when your dad sees that you’ve come home.”
Attempting a joke, I say, “It’s good he’s in the hospital. That way if he has a heart attack, he’ll get immediate help.”
“Ha, ha,” she says in such a way that suggests she doesn’t find my comment funny. “Be gentle with him,” she warns.
I’m not sure what she thinks I’m planning. “Why would I be anything else?”
“Your dad has not always had an easy life, Luke.”
I don’t think anyone always has it easy so I’m not sure what trauma she’s referencing. I simply nod my head and smile, then watch as she walks down the hallway. Once she gets on the elevator, I turn around and head back into my father’s room .
Dr. Butler returns my dad’s chart to a hook at the end of his bed before saying, “Let the nurses know if you need anything.” Once he reaches the door, he adds, “Your dad is lucky to be alive.” Then he’s gone.
I know my dad is lucky to be alive, and honestly that’s the only reason I’m here. The very real chance that he might have died before we patched things up has hit me hard. I’ve spent the last several years feeling like he’s responsible for our rift, so it’s his obligation to fix it. But knowing I’m right would be cold comfort if we never made things right between us.
I sit and stare at my dad for what feels like hours, but according to the clock is only forty-five minutes. He starts to stir, and groans loudly while trying to roll over—a feat he obviously can’t perform.
Opening his eyes, my dad recognizes his predicament before calling out to my mom, “Brenda! Get the nurse, please.”
Standing up, I walk over to his bed. When he sees that it’s me and not my mom, I say, “Hi, Dad.”
“Luke. What are you doing here?” He does not sound happy.
I feel like crying, but I opt to use humor to diffuse the tension that’s started to build like a budding wildfire. “I figured I’d come see you before you did something really stupid like taking up skydiving without a parachute.”
Instead of appreciating my attempt at levity, he says, “I didn’t die, so there was no need for you to come.”
“Are you serious?” What is his problem with me? “Did you really think I wouldn’t come home unless you were dead?”
He tries to shrug but fails. The guy is in traction, after all. “You haven’t been back in a long time. Seems to me you don’t care about us one way or the other.”
“Dad,” I start to say, although I really don’t have any idea where to go from here. He knows why I haven’t been home, but there doesn’t seem to be any point in rehashing all of that now.
“Where’s your mom? ”
“She went home to take a nap. It sounds like she’s been awake all night with you.”
Grumbling, he says, “I’m hungry. Can you please tell the nurse I want breakfast.”
Nodding my head, I assure him, “I’ll ask her to bring something. Anything special?”
“Toast is fine,” he says. “Maybe a grapefruit.”
Instead of ringing the call button, I walk out of the room. All kinds of emotions are running through me, and I need a minute away from my dad to start to process them.
Not only am I mad at him, but I’m also hurt and confused. During my whole childhood, he talked about how he wanted me to realize all my dreams and how he wanted to help me in any way that he could. Then my dream changed and so did his willingness to support my choices. It boggles the mind.
Stopping by the nurses’ station, I find a bearded man about my age typing into the computer. “Hi there. My dad is in three-oh-eight and he was hoping to get some breakfast.”
The man turns and looks up. Recognition hits immediately. “Tony Hill?”
“Luke Phillips!” he says excitedly before standing up and wrapping his arms around me. “How are you, man? I was hoping I might see you when I saw your dad came in.” Tony and I were good friends from kindergarten until our junior year of high school when his family moved a couple of towns over. It was me, him, and Noah. We ran track together, played basketball, and still managed to chase after all the girls. Yet, once he left town, we hardly ever saw each other. It’s amazing how twenty miles feels more like two thousand when you’re young.
“So, you became a nurse, huh?” I tease him. “Hoping to score a lot of women, I bet.”
“You know me,” he snorts before explaining, “I really wanted to go to med school, but I didn’t want to take on the debt.”
“You probably get more dates this way.” While I know my comment might sound sexist, I’m guessing there are still more female nurses than male.
He’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I met my husband in nursing school.” The halting pattern of his speech makes me think he’s worried about how I’ll receive this information. But honestly, I could not care less. I work in the restaurant industry in Chicago; half of my staff is gay.
“Congratulations,” I tell him. “Have you been married long?”
His smile indicates obvious relief over my lack of a negative reaction. “Three years. We moved to Elk Lake two years ago when we adopted our daughter. I wanted to raise Raven in the town where I was happiest.”
“I love that,” I tell him. “We had a really good upbringing here, didn’t we?”
“It was idyllic. Tim and I want our daughter to have the same experience.”
“I’d love to meet your family sometime,” I tell him sincerely.
“That would be really nice, Luke.” He turns to type something into his computer and adds, “I just ordered your dad his breakfast.” Then he writes something down on a notepad before pulling the sheet off. Handing it to me, he says, “My number. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll set something up.”
“Let’s meet up at Pop’s some night,” I tell him. “Dinner is on me.” Little does he know I’ll probably be cooking it first, but I’m sure he’ll keep my secret if I ask.
Walking back into my dad’s room, I announce, “You’ll never guess who I ran into.”
My dad looks at me like he does not give a flying fig so instead of telling him, I say, “Your breakfast is on the way.”
Several moments pass before he asks, “Who did you run into?”
“Tony Hill,” I tell him.
“Your buddy from high school? I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”
“Tony came back to Elk Lake to raise his daughter.” I’m not sure if it’s worth mentioning that Tony is married to a man. I don’t think my dad would care, but it seems that I don’t know the man as well as I once thought I did.
“It’s nice that he came home.” My dad’s normally deep brown eyes narrow and appear to turn nearly black. “It’s refreshing that someone your age thinks enough of Elk Lake to want to stay here.”
I am not going to start fighting with him today. Hopefully not even tomorrow. I want my dad to get better and I don’t think riling him up is the way to accomplish that. Sitting down, I tell him, “The doctor says you’ll be here for a few days. Are you in any pain?”
He tips his graying head toward the IV next to the bed. “Not since they hooked me up. I don’t even feel like I’m in my body anymore.”
“Comfortably numb, then?” I reference my dad’s favorite Pink Floyd song.
“You could say that.” He lets his eyes close again and takes a cat nap. He doesn’t open them until his breakfast arrives and then he keeps busy eating, so he doesn’t have to carry on a conversation with me. When he’s done with his food, he tells me, “You can go now. I’ll be fine until your mom gets back.”
I’ve been dismissed. Standing up, I tell him, “I’ll see you later then.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see you later.” Don’t fight me, old man, I am not in the mood .
“Suit yourself,” he says.
At this rate, I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel for us, but being that I’m already in the tunnel, I might as well keep the course.