Chapter 26
26
APPLE. TREE.
I stand next to Riley in the elevator and then follow him to his car without saying a word. He reaches for my door and I don’t even have it in me to argue about being able to do it myself. I just slide into the front seat while my mind races through all the worst-case scenarios.
My father could die before the night is over.
My father could die thinking his only daughter was a disappointment.
My father could die never knowing how much I hated not being close to him.
My. Father. Could. Die.
“Oh god.” I throw my face in the palms of my hands and begin to cry. The thought of living in a world where my father doesn’t exist tears a hole so large in my heart I don’t think it’d ever be filled if he actually left me.
Riley pulls my hands away from my face, grips my chin to face him. “No. You will not fall apart before there is reason to. Do you understand?”
I stare into his hazel eyes with blurry vision, the deep green and gold pools are the only things anchoring me to t he present and not the worst-case scenario.
After a moment I give a slight nod.
Riley takes my face in his hands and wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “What hospital was he taken to?”
“Charlotte Main. On Kennedy Street.”
Riley presses the Start button and the car roars to life. The hospital is less than six blocks from his building and there are no cars on the road this time of night so we arrive at the hospital in record timing. He pulls up to the front entrance to allow me to get out and walk straight towards the reception desk.
I reach for the door handle, pause, and turn to him with red rimmed eyes. “Are you,” I break off, “will you,” stumbling to formulate the full question.
“I’ll park the car and find you.” He says, answering my unspoken request.
Relief washes over me. I step out of the car, but before closing the door I say, “Riley?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.” He offers me a heartfelt smile in return. I shut the door and walk through the automatic sliding double doors.
“Hi, I’m looking for Daniel Thatcher?” I ask the young blonde nurse sitting behind the reception counter near the front entrance.
“Are you immediate family, miss?” the nurse asks while typing on the keyboard.
“Yes, I’m his daughter.”
The nurse nods and enters so me information into the computer in front of her.
“Due to his,” she clears her throat, “privacy requests. Do you mind showing me proof of kinship?”
I figure the privacy request is more at the demands of my mother than my father but regardless, I reach into my wallet to show the nurse my driver’s license with clear proof that my last name matches the patient.
“Room 514 Miss Thatcher. Take the elevator around the corner up to floor five. Your father’s room is behind the first set of double doors. There is a personal waiting room for the family outside his door.” The nurse provides.
I quickly text the room number and the instructions to the waiting area to Riley as I make my way to the set of metal lifts.
I stand in front of the doors to the lift but can’t seem to bring myself to press the up arrow. The fear of not knowing what I will find once I enter my father’s hospital room paralyzes me for an unknown amount of time.
The feeling of someone’s hand resting on my right shoulder pulls me back to reality. I glance up to find Riley staring down at me. His eyes soften as he looks at me, patiently waiting for me to make the first move forward.
I take a deep, steadying breath. “I’m ready.”
Riley reaches in front of us to press the button and the door to the left slides open. His hand moves from my shoulder to the small of my back guiding me in. I choose the button for the fifth floor and keep my eyes focused in front of me. If I’m going to face the worst possible outcome, I will do it with my chin held high.
I will be strong.
A ding above our head goes off, alerting us that we have arrived at our designated floor. The obnoxious bright lighti ng that outfits every hospital in the country spills onto the floor of the metal box as the doors open. I step off the elevator and walk towards the double doors that lead into the waiting area the nurse instructed me to. I peer through the small rectangular window in the door to find my mother sitting on the farthest waiting chair from the entrance, closest to the closed door where my father is lying in a hospital bed.
He’s not dead.
The mantra I’ve been playing in my head since Riley started his car repeats itself in my mind. I take another deep breath before pushing the doors open. Corina Thatcher, beautifully aged with the same chocolate eyes and dark brown hair as me, looks up to see Riley and me walk in.
My mother stands at our arrival and opens her arms warmly.
“Mom.” I say softly, embracing her and letting the familiar scent of her invade my senses.
My mother hugs me with such tightness, one hand cradling my head, the other against my back, the same motherly hug she’s given me since I was a little girl.
After a few moments she pulls away, and cradles my face between her hands, “Hi baby,” and kisses me on my forehead.
“Hi mom.”
My mother takes a peek at the stranger that walked in behind me with eyebrows raised, “and who is this?” she asks.
He extends his right hand and offers it to her. “Riley Anderson, ma’am.”
“Just Riley Anderson?” she questions, accepting his outreached hand.
“He’s,” I hesitate. “My. Um.”
“Well this is a first,” my mother chuckles, “the daughter I raised has never been at a loss for words.” She looks at Riley, “you must be the cat that’s got her tongue.”
“Ew, mom!” I exclaim. “I don’t even know what that means but it sounded gross.”
“Riley Anderson, Amelia’s boyfriend.” Riley re-introduces himself.
“Corina Thatcher. Amelia’s mother.”
My mother motions for everyone to take a seat while she brings me up to speed about my father’s health. She sits down and brushes out non-existent wrinkles in her perfectly pressed light gray trousers and silken pink blouse.
A nervous habit I got from her.
Apple.
Tree.
She begins with explaining how my father had his first heart attack when I was in college but he was adamant on not letting me know so it didn’t disturb my studies.
“What?!” I blurt out. “How could he have a heart attack and you two were ok treating it like it was a common cold! I could’ve taken my school work home! I...” My mother cuts me off.
“You have never done anything half-ass sweetie. If you were home, you would’ve tried to take on your father’s health care, your school work, and probably attempted to cover him at the office too for safe measure. It would’ve been too much for you and you would’ve burned yourself out before you were willing to admit it.”
I pinch my lips tightly. Knowing it’s futile to argue.
She continues to explain the steady decline in my father’s health the last few years; the exhaustion, the fainting spells, the chest pains. I feel a tear fall down my cheek. And then another. The gray cloud of guilt now oversha dows every happy memory I’ve had in the last three years since I stopped talking to my father. The entire time I was living my life, my father was slowly losing his.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “This is all my fault.”
“Oh baby,” my mother coos, “why would that even cross your mind?”
“If I didn’t leave, he wouldn’t have been so stressed and none of this would’ve happened. I could’ve taken on more so he didn’t have to. I left it all on him and now look at him,” my hand stretching towards my father’s room. “This. All of this,” I motion with my arms to encircle the waiting area, “would never have happened if I was there doing what I was supposed to do instead of gallivanting off trying to make something of myself just to prove a point.”
My mother grabs my wrists and brings them close to her chest. “Amelia Juliette Thatcher,” she says sternly in a way only a mother can, “you listen to me. If you take another moment blaming yourself for this, I will never forgive you. Your father being sick has absolutely nothing to do with you. You were not put on this earth, I did not bring you into this world for you to take care of us . Your father has worked himself to the bone for as long as I have known that stubborn man. You being here every second for the last three years would not have kept him from the long hours that may or may not have weakened his heart. So, this,” She mimics my earlier arm motions, “is not on you. We will get through this. Whatever this is. Understood?”
My nose stings with the threat of more tears. “Mmhm.” I offer a nod before burying myself into her chest.
The sound of whi spers stirs me awake. I crack one eye open, taking in my surroundings. The faint smell of cedar wood tells me Riley is near but it’s mixed with a hint of something else. Something…sterile. Like a hospital. The reminder of where I am makes me jolt upwards, the hoodie that Riley must’ve draped over me at some point falls to my waist.
“Morning.” Riley’s voice, smooth as velvet, welcomes me awake.
I glance at the clock above the double doors.
Seven thirty.
“You stayed all night?” I ask. Noticing Riley is still by my side wearing the same clothes he wore last night minus the hoodie that is now bunched on my lap.
“What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I left your side?” he smiles and leans in to kiss my forehead. “Here.” He hands me the coffee he purchased from the vending machine.
I take the cup from Riley and sip. My distaste for instant vending machine coffee is nearly palpable. He gives me a sympathetic shrug as if to say that’s all they had to offer .
Needing the caffeine more than I need to like the taste, I drink the rest of the cup before walking over to my mother who is still discussing something in hushed tones, not realizing I’ve woken up already, to the doctor in navy blue scrubs.
“…we want to keep him for a few days to monitor him. We were lucky this time. If he keeps pushing himself, next might be a stroke that can cause irreparable damage.” I catch the tail end of what the doctor says.
“Thank you, Doctor.” My mother shakes the doctor’s hands before he exits through the double doors to the elevator bank.
“What else did he say, mom ?” I question her for the rest of the details.
She looks exhausted. She never looks exhausted. Even at two thirty in the morning, my mother still looked bright eyed and alert. She must have stayed awake all night waiting for more news on my father. She runs her fingers through her brown and graying hair and takes a seat on the taupe vinyl chair nearest us.
“He said that your father was lucky. After monitoring him all evening they don’t think he needs a Coronary Angioplasty, but there is a chance in the future. We’re being asked to try to keep him as less stressed as possible to prevent that. Which means I have to figure out how to push your father into early retirement. The alternative is an early grave.” She rolls her eyes.
I know how difficult of a task that will be, even for her. Daniel Thatcher has a hard enough time taking a day off here and there and she’s asking him to take off for the rest of his life. Taking her hands in mine, we sit in silence for a few minutes before Riley walks over and places his hand on my shoulder.
“The cafeteria should be open by now which means better coffee might be available. Can I get either of you anything to eat or drink?” He offers.
“Coffee and a blueberry muffin for me if they have it, please.”
“Just a coffee for me please, dear.” My mother adds.
Riley nods and leaves through the double doors.
“He seems good to you,” My mother states as soon as Riley’s out of ear shot.
“Yeah. He’s a good guy,”
My mother scoffs. “There are good guys, Amy, and then there are guys who are in love.” I open my mouth, preparing to protest, but she continues. “Good guys drop you at the front entrance. Maybe even send a text the next morning to make sure you’re alright. Guys who are in love, stay all night at a hospital staying awake to make sure you’re ok even when you’re sleeping.”
I feel that pang of guilt again. Riley said as much when I woke up. ‘ What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I left your side’ , fake being the operative word. I don’t want to diminish what Riley had done. He had brought me here at two in the morning, stayed all night with me, probably dealt with being cold all night so that I had his hoodie as some sort of blanket, and he’s off now gathering food and caffeine supplies like he’s my personal forager.
However, at the end of the day, this is our arrangement, albeit, sitting in a hospital waiting room with my mother while my father is lying in the room over, unconscious, wasn’t discussed as a situation where he had to pretend to be my boyfriend, but he’s playing the part we agreed on, nonetheless. I need to constantly remind myself before I believe what my mother already thinks to be true.
Hating to lie to her, in any circumstance, but especially this one, I don’t trust myself to speak so instead I just squeeze my mother’s hand in silent agreement.
I bite down on the side of my cheek to keep from saying anything more. My mother believes we are a couple. I don’t need to ruin that by trying to add any more fuel to the flame of lies.
Her phone rings and I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption. She answers and I can tell by the way she’s speaking that it’s Emily on the other line, Thatcher Inc.’s Head of P.R. attempting to control the narrative of my father’s illness before the media gets a hold of it.
My mother starts to pace as she always does when she is handling business and I just sit there watching her. Realizi ng that my life is about to change completely. Gone are the days of making a name for myself at Atlas Tech.
If my father needed to retire for his health, then I will do what has always been expected of me. I will become the next C.E.O. of Thatcher Inc.