Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
PRESENT DAY
It’s the middle of the night when we get the call. Margie’s kidneys are failing, and the bleeding in her brain has started again. She needs another surgery, but they aren’t sure she’s stable enough.
They’re afraid she’ll crash during the operation.
They tell us they’re going to monitor her and make decisions if the bleeding progresses, but that we should get to the hospital and be ready for things to change quickly.
Ready? It feels impossible.
How could we ever feel ready for this?
It’s Mom who talks to the doctors, relaying the message to the boys once she hangs up. I can see it on her face. The panic. The overwhelming sadness.
The resignation. That’s the part that stings the most. I can see her giving up, preparing herself for the worst. Saying goodbye in her head.
We don’t wait. We load into the car at just past two in the morning, and we’re on our way.
The roads are mostly empty, but every car we get stuck behind, every red light, and every stop sign surges my blood pressure, raising the volume of the voice in my head, screaming we’re not going to make it in time.
At the hospital, the surgeon greets us in the waiting room.
“We’d like to operate,” he tells us, his eyes steady but tight.
“She’s relatively young and otherwise healthy, which is in her favor.
The kidney injury from dehydration and blood loss makes everything more complicated, but the re-bleed is still the most immediate threat.
She’s very sick, but we believe this is still survivable if we act quickly. ”
I don’t like the way he says it’s “survivable.” Because he’s not saying it’s safe, only that she might make it through if everything goes exactly right.
The boys are taken back before she goes into surgery. It’s to say goodbye, I think, but none of us says it out loud. This moment feels radioactive, like the wrong word might turn everything to ash.
Mom and I take a seat in the quiet waiting room, and I reach for her hand.
“She’s going to be okay,” I tell her. I’m telling myself, too. “She will.”
Her eyes search the air for something—answers, hope, I’m not sure.
“Mom…” My voice surprises me. I don’t think this is the right time, but I still have to ask. I have to know. “Do you think this was an accident?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, then away. “What else could it have been? No one would hurt Margie.” Her last sentence sounds like a threat, a warning. She tightens her fingers around her purse strap.
“I just…” I lick my lips, gathering my thoughts.
“What if… I mean, after Ruth. It’s like…
” I don’t even want to say my worst fears out loud.
They make it all too real. “It’s like someone’s…
targeting the three of you. Hunting you.
And you’re the only one left.” The words feel insane when spoken aloud. But do they feel wrong? Not to me.
I study the side of her face, searching for any hint I’m right. That she suspects the same thing.
She gives a sharp jerk of her head. “No. That’s ridiculous. Don’t talk like that. They were accidents. Both of them. And Margie’s going to be okay. Don’t say that.” She stands, not looking my way as she shuffles past. “I’m going to get coffee. Stay here.”
I drop my head forward with a long sigh. She didn’t answer my question.
A few minutes later, the guys return, their faces haunted and broken in a new way. They’ve aged ten years in ten minutes.
I move to Will’s side without thinking. When he meets my eyes, we just stare for what feels like a lifetime, having a silent conversation that could never be put into words.
I want to ask if he’s okay, want to ask if he’ll ever be okay.
But I think both of those answers would be no. Not okay like before. Not if she doesn’t make it.
Cory sits when Mom appears, then takes the cup of coffee she offers him.
“The surgeon knows what he’s doing,” I tell Will, keeping my voice low.
“There were…” He runs a hand over his face. “A lot of tubes. More than before. I think it just kind of messed me up.”
“Dialysis,” Mom says. “For her kidneys. It’s keeping her going, that’s all.”
The choice of words hits me. Keeping her going. Not making her better.
Will nods, still standing there in the middle of the line of chairs like a zombie.
I loop my arm through the crook of his, leading him to a chair.
We sink down together, but when I start to release him, his forearm traps mine against his side.
His hand sweeps up, catching my wrist before I can break away, and he locks his fingers with mine.
This time, his grip is tight. Almost painful.
Terrified.
Something somersaults in my chest.
When I glance over, Cory’s eyes are on the place where our hands connect. His gaze snaps away when he sees me noticing.
Will doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t look at Cory. He just grips my hand like a lifeline, and I let him. Because I think, in this moment, he’s my lifeline too.
Maybe, in our own way, that’s how it’s always been.
But if something happens to Margie, I’m not sure we’ll ever be the same again. I hold him tighter, wanting to keep him for however long I can.