Chapter 6
THE POWER OF PRESENCE
ROMAN
The stench of the sterile pediatric ward drifts through the air as Roman bounces his daughter in his lap, the scent clinging to him as if it’s stuck to his skin.
No matter how many times he steps into this place, the disinfectant, the antiseptic, the faint whiff of bleach, all of it hits his lungs like a slap, an unwelcome reminder of everything that’s wrong in his world.
He should be used to it by now. He’s been coming here for months, after all.
He should be numb to the chill, to the way the whitewashed walls seem to bleed into each other, creating a room devoid of color.
But every time he walks through the sliding glass doors, signs the paperwork, and nestles his daughter into his chest, it irritates his senses.
Now, he can’t stand the smell of cleaning products or the sight of magazines.
Especially the travel guide ones.
He finds them to be insensitive and mocking since most people aren’t afforded the luxuries of being able to go on vacation.
This week’s collection features a road trip to the Grand Canyon, a breathtaking photograph of the sun disappearing behind the cliffs, the winding river darkened, the minerals in various hues of red and salmon.
A family of four poses with all teeth as they look into the camera.
Before Lucy’s diagnosis, there was a time when he could have imagined himself out there with her. Now it further taunts him.
A reward for those who are deserving of it.
And he certainly isn’t.
“Lucy Hayes?” A young woman in white scrubs covered in multi-colored smiley faces waits for him by the corridor.
He stands quickly, still clutching Lucy as the nurse ushers them to the room, her cheerful face hiding a calm professionalism.
The walls are a clash of rainbow colors and cartoonish sunflowers, a childish attempt to ease the tension of the place.
Even as they float past them, he can’t shake the gnawing panic rising in his chest as they get further down the hall.
The hospital, recently purchased by investors, is undergoing renovations. The new striking crescent blue of the pediatric ward helps to soothe his nerves as they finally make it into the room. It reminds him of the last time he took Lucy to the beach.
When the nurse shuts the door, he falls into their usual routine: he slips her out of her Winnie-the-Pooh onesie and into the gown the hospital provides.
The whole time, she fondles her plushie, distracted.
Happy. Oblivious. This is how it should be for her 24/7.
She shouldn’t be spending every waking minute in a hospital, strapped to machines.
He sighs as he drops her against the pillow, kissing her cheek.
Moving to the other side of the space, he pulls out his laptop before lowering into the chair. The room is spacious, with a small TV mounted on one wall and a window that overlooks one of the courtyards on the other. Landscapers work on trimming the hedges as patients mill about.
Rolling his neck, Roman draws out his phone to read the schedule his advisor sent over once more, ensuring he’s signing up for the right classes.
But when the landing page loads on the computer, the date he reads causes numbness to swarm his limbs.
“Shit,” he whispers, refreshing the screen. He does this more times than he can count, the knots in his neck pulling tighter with each click, but it stays the same. “Fuck.”
He missed his appointment slot for registration.
Sitting upright, he sifts through the available courses, and his stomach drops the further down he scrolls.
Suddenly, the door swings open and his mother walks in. He shuts the laptop, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he plasters a rehearsed smile on his face.
“I’m here, I’m here,” she calls out, placing her bag on the side of the cot. Her overalls are covered in green and blue paint splatter, and her white and gray hair is piled in a messy bun. “How’s she doing?” she asks.
She must have rushed over from the studio, Roman thinks, and the idea makes his heart sink.
He exhales harshly, folding his arms over his chest. “Doctor hasn’t been in yet, but I don’t know, Mom. She doesn’t seem good. Look at her face.”
His knee bounces as they both turn to her. Lucy’s curls stack haphazardly on her head, her brown eyes wide, her cheeks rosy.
“Look at my gorgeous girl,” his mom says as she smooths Lucy’s hair, pressing soft kisses over her face, causing her to let out a garbled laugh. “My little girl. My brave girl.”
His mom exhales, sinking down next to him, applying a hand to his thigh to still his bouncing knee. Pressing his hands together, he cracks his knuckles.
He juts his chin towards Lucy. “You see it, right?”
His mother’s mouth twists. “It’s probably nothing, honey. She’s getting older, it’s probably some extra weight she’s put on.”
He shakes his head, not feeling comforted by her words. “She’s relapsed. Her whole body is swollen.”
She squeezes his thigh. “Let’s wait for Dr. Newark, okay?” She turns away from him, reaching into her bag. “There’s no use in stressing over hypotheticals and potentialities. Did you eat?”
“No,” he murmurs, taking the wrap from her hand. “Thanks.”
He’s two bites in when she asks the last thing he wants to answer.
“You got everything sorted for your last semester?” she asks, nudging his foot with hers. He busies himself with the sandwich, taking another bite. As he chews, he contemplates his answer.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, working on swallowing.
And it must not be convincing enough because when he does turn to look at her, she’s pushed her glasses to the top of her head.
“Roman Alexander Hayes, don’t you lie to me.”
He shrugs in an attempt to play it cool. “I missed the deadline to register for classes. I have to go in person tomorrow to sort some things out. No biggie,” he says, grinning.
She presses her hand to her temple, her eyes closing. “How?”
“I … misread the appointment date and time, but it’s fine,” he says, letting out a forced laugh.
She rubs the heel of her hands into her face, a heavy sigh escaping. “Christ, Roman. So what does that mean? Are you going to have to delay graduation again?”
A heaviness falls on his shoulders, and he bites back the burn in his throat as he sets the sandwich aside, no longer feeling hungry.
“No, Mom. They’ll probably put me on a waitlist or something—no big deal,” he says, waving his hand.
Wrong. It’s a big fucking deal.
And it’s as if she can hear his thoughts because she stands up and starts to pace. “It is a big deal, Ro. I need you to be a little more responsible, honey. For Lucy’s sake,” she says, disappointment coating her words.
“It was a slip-up, Mom. I’ll handle it,” he says, his voice coming out smaller this time.
They both turn when a knock sounds and the door swings open. A slender brunette in dinosaur scrubs walks through with a clipboard.
His shoulders tense when he realizes who it is. She keeps her head down as she reads over the clipboard.
“Hi, Gwendolyn. Roman.”
He clears his throat, wiping imaginary dust from his pants as he stands. “Audrey.”
Audrey looks up, gives a small, reserved (completely fake) smile before moving over to Lucy to check her vitals. His mom raises her eyebrows towards him.
He watches Audrey’s lips turn down as she jots down notes on the chart. “Is something wrong?” he asks.
Her hazel eyes snap to his. “I’ll let the doctor speak with you about it.”
“Come on, Audrey,” he says in a pleading manner, flashing a smile.
She waves a finger at him. “Ah ah, that won’t work on me, Roman Hayes.” She leans over the cot, tapping Lucy’s nose. “Isn’t that right, Lucy girl? Daddy’s charm doesn’t faze me anymore. Especially since he seems to have lost my number.”
Roman’s face flushes, and he scratches the back of his head, looking at the ground. Audrey straightens, walking away.
“Audrey, wait.”
“Dr. Newark will be in soon,” she calls without a backward glance.
The door slams shut behind her, rattling the hinges. He feels his mom staring, and he pivots to her.
“Not a word,” he says, returning to his seat.
She holds her hands up. “Hey, I didn’t say anything, Mr. Smooth Talker.”
He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone out with her. I knew she’d be weird.”
His mom shrugs. “Why didn’t you call her? She seems nice. Educated. Pretty.”
Roman sighs, shaking his head. “I just … didn’t feel anything, and things just got hectic with Lucy, school, work,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
His mom bristles at the mention of his job, turning away. It’s another one of the many things he isn’t doing right in her eyes. “I told you to quit that place. What does it have to do with engineering, anyway?”
“Nothing at all,” he quips. “But I like it, and I like having a paycheck, and it’s what pays for all of this.” He gestures to the hospital room. At least, most of it.
She looks him up and down, arms crossed over her chest, before letting out a disapproving sound.
“Yeah, well. The quicker you graduate, the sooner you’ll have a degree that will get you a real, secure job for you to take care of your daughter with.”
His spine stiffens before he slips his mask back into place, tapping his mom’s knee. “Don’t worry, Mom, this is my last year.”
The door swings open again, and Dr. Newark walks in, setting the clipboard on the edge of Lucy’s cot. His dark hair—streaked with gray—has been gelled back, making him appear younger, and black frames perch on his nose.
Roman stands again, placing his hands in his pockets. “Dr. Newark. Tell me something good.”
It’s only when he steps further into the room that Roman notices the tight, uncomfortable smile resting on his face. Roman’s shoulders fall, and the burning sensation in his throat returns. He looks down at his daughter, breathing evenly as she sleeps through the destruction of his world.