Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALEX DRIVES WITH MEASURED CONTROL, weaving easily through traffic while I chew my fingernails to the quick. Every few minutes, he wraps his hand around mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
After what surely has to be an eternity, he pulls up to the valet parking attendant and checks his car. We sprint across the single lane to the entrance of the ER at the North Tower. But before we can slip through the automatic doors, a burly security guard stops us.
“I’m here to see my grandma.” My voice trembles, and Alex wraps his arm around my shoulder.
“Patient’s name?” the guard asks.
“Enid Montgomery.”
Alex’s arm tenses, but when I meet his gaze, he gives me a reassuring smile.
The guard asks for our IDs, and after he scans them, two adhesive badges print out and we’re on our way.
Alex’s hand finds mine and a surge of warmth runs through me. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I’m grateful he’s here.
“She’s going to be okay,” he says softly.
I attempt to give him a smile, but my eyes fill with tears. I swipe at my face, wiping them away before they can fall.
We’re stopped again, this time by the attendant at the front desk, and she tells us that only two people are allowed at a time. Since my mother is already in the room, Alex has to wait in the lobby.
“I’ll be right here,” he assures me, and I know he means it. I nod and follow the nurse through the security door. A cacophony of beeping from different monitors and machines surrounds us as we walk through the corridor, the acrid scent of urine mingling with disinfectant like vile potpourri.
The nurse gathers the curtains in Bay 5, revealing my mother hunched over the side of Gram’s bed, clutching her hand.
“June.” She wipes her auburn hair out of her face. Her eyes are glassy and red, deep lines framing her chin. She looks much more frail than the last time I saw her. “She’s stable. They got there in time.”
I nod, stepping closer. Gram is laid out peacefully, her eyes closed, soft snores coming from her parted lips. Her arms are draped at her sides, her wrinkly hand still wrapped in Mom’s. A monitor hooked up to an IV beeps as the liquid slowly drips.
“June?” my mother says, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry.” It’s barely audible, but I hear it.
I grunt in response. I don’t have time for her guilt right now.
The curtains swish open as a young doctor with jet-black hair steps into the room. “You’re the daughter?” he says to Mom. She nods, and the doctor pulls a tablet from his pocket. “I’m Dr. Pham. Your mother gave us quite the scare this morning.”
“They said her blood sugar was over seven hundred,” my mother says grimly.
I don’t know much about diabetes, but that sounds high.
The doctor nods, scrolling through the tablet.
“Her blood sugar is coming down. We’re under five hundred now, which means the insulin drip is working.
It’s going to take at least twenty-four hours to get her optimized, possibly longer.
We’ll continue to monitor her closely over the next few days.
” He pockets the tablet, then crosses his arms. “What is her diet like? Does she normally eat a lot of sweets? Candies, chocolate?”
Guilt consumes me as I think back to the shopping trips full of sugary treats. The cereal, the chocolate milk. The quick sleight of hand at the register where she dropped a pack of seasonal cookies on the conveyor belt without my mother noticing.
“Yes,” Mom says, remorse palpable in her tone. “But my daughter is a nutritionist, and she’ll create a proper meal plan for her.” She smiles proudly at me.
Shit.
Oh, Mother. If you only knew.
“Oh, yeah?” The doctor smiles. “She’ll need to take in 1.5 grams per kilogram of body weight of high-quality protein per day and up her intake of PUFAs. Especially omega-3s.”
I blink slowly. What the fuck is a PUFA?
“Make sure you limit the SFAs and TFAs.” He laughs. “I mean, I don’t have to tell you.”
Yeah, I don’t know what the hell any of that means. Tomorrow, I’ll go online and find a real nutritionist to talk to Gram.
“Sounds good,” I say quickly.
“Oh, and you may need to do a sweep of her kitchen,” he adds. “Sometimes, especially if we try and limit a patient’s intake of sugar, they tend to hide it.” He nods to her purse on the chair. “Have you checked her bag?”
Mom reaches for it and hands it to me. Why me? Reluctantly, I take the tote. On second thought, it’s probably better if I go through it. Who knows what kind of real contraband she might have in here. If my mother found condoms in Gram’s purse, she might have to be admitted to the ER herself.
I open the bag and peer inside. It’s like she knocked over the concession aisle at 7-Eleven. There are a few Snickers bars, Twix, a Milky Way, and a Ziploc bag with three gummy worms.
My grandmother is a six-year-old.
“Did you find anything?” Mom demands.
I don’t have the heart to sell out Gram. “Just a peppermint.” I rifle past the candy bars, cellophane crinkling as I present the small, unassuming mint with red-and-white swirls.
She holds my stare a beat, but ultimately seems to buy it.
The doctor’s phone buzzes, and he checks the message. “I’ll be back in a few hours to update you.” He gives Mom one last smile and pulls the curtain shut behind him.
“Would you mind staying with her a minute?” Mom asks. “I need to use the restroom, and I didn’t want to leave her alone.”
“Sure.”
As soon as she’s out of sight, I grab the slew of candy bars and the gummy worms—seriously, Gram?—and shove them into my purse. Then I slip into the vacant seat and text Alex.
June: She’s stable. Thanks again for driving me.
Alex: No problem. Do you need anything?
My heart swoons at the sentiment.
June: You being here is more than enough—
Ugh. That is way too cheesy. I erase the message and try again.
June: No, thank you. You don’t have to stick around. I can get a ride home with my mom.
My finger hovers over the send button. It’s the mature thing to do. He shouldn’t have to waste his day here, especially if he’s stuck in lobby purgatory.
The curtain ruffles, and I pocket my phone without sending the message. But it’s not my mom. It’s Alex.
“The nurse let me in.” He folds his hands behind his back as he leans against the wall, peering at my grandma. He huffs a soft breath, then brings his focus back to me. “How are you holding up?”
I’m about to tell him I’m fine, but my throat clogs with emotion. Between Gram lying in the bed, still unconscious, my mother acknowledging her wrongdoing with an actual apology, and Alex being there for me last night and now again this morning, it’s all too much.
Tears puddle in my eyes, and so help me god, I sniffle.
Alex steps toward me, pulling me out of the chair and into a hug. I snuggle into him, inhaling a deep breath and getting lost in the scent of his subtle cologne. His fingers draw lazy circles on my back as he holds me, tucking my head under his chin.
I can’t remember the last time someone held me like this and let me cry. It might have been Millie, back in undergrad after Kevin dumped me.
The curtain rings hiss as my mother fiddles with the faded plaid cloth, and I stiffen in Alex’s arms. He releases me as she steps back into the space.
Immediately, she sets her sights on him, her features softening in recognition. “Oh, hello again.” She smiles, settling back in the seat. “You’re June’s nutrition colleague.”
Alex tightens his lips but nods.
“I’m so glad you’re here. June’s grandmother needs a proper meal plan. Maybe you can help her put one together?”
I don’t believe this. As far as she’s concerned, I’m a distinguished professor in the Nutritional Science Department. But now, she doesn’t think I’m qualified enough to make a basic meal plan? I need Alex to help me?
Good job, Mother—now there are two fake nutritionists on Gram’s case.
“June is fully capable of creating a meal plan on her own.” Alex crosses his arms and squares his shoulders.
“Oh, I know,” Mom agrees. “It’s just that it wouldn’t hurt to have another pair of eyes on it.”
My blood boils thick in my veins. “Mom,” I say through gritted teeth, “you don’t even know what Alex’s background is.”
“You said he was your colleague.” She lifts her eyebrows, as if I’m the asshole.
“I also said I was mentoring him.” As in, I know more than him even though he has a dick.
She looks between us, a wry smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “Well, from what I saw, it looks like you’re doing more than mentoring him.” My jaw falls open, but she lifts her hand. “Which I’m thrilled about.” She looks past me to Alex. “I’ve been begging her to bring a man home for ages.”
“I don’t believe this,” I say louder than I intend. “Gram is in critical condition, and you’re playing matchmaker?”
A nurse yanks the curtain open, glaring at us. “You all need to keep it down. This is a hospital, not a talk show.”
“We’ll quiet down,” I mutter. I don’t want to leave Gram right now, and I can’t bear the thought of getting kicked out.
“Good.” She gives each of us a hard stare, then pulls the curtain shut.
After being reprimanded, we sit in silence over the next few hours, watching Gram sleep, waiting for her to open her eyes. But she doesn’t.
I busy myself by researching everything I can about diabetes. The symptoms. The differences between types one and two. Things to watch out for. I even look up some basic meal plans and learn what PUFAs are—polyunsaturated fatty acids. Who would have guessed?
Alex doesn’t leave my side. And he continuously reminds me he’s there for me, with every brush of his hand over mine, each gentle caress of my shoulder.
He stares daggers at my mother, daring her to say something. But she holds her tongue.
At five o’clock, he leans down and whispers, “I hate to do this, but my presentation starts at six, and I can’t miss it.”
My entire body shrivels. How could I have forgotten? The most important night of his career starts in an hour, and he’s spent the entire day here with me. And my mother.
“I’m coming with you.” The statement shocks me just as much as him.
“No, you should—”
“Alex,” I say sternly, and he grins. “I said I’m coming with you.”
“I like it when you’re bossy.”
A thrill rushes through me. That statement shouldn’t do things to me, but it does.
I turn to my mother. “Mom, Alex has a really important presentation, and we have to go.”
“Both of you?” She looks between us.
I nod, then lean down and squeeze Gram’s hand. “I love you, Gram. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Her brow creases, but she doesn’t open her eyes. We can’t stay any longer, though. Alex takes my hand, and he doesn’t let go until we reach the car.