27. Graham
Chapter twenty-seven
Graham
I break every speed law driving back to San Antonio, hoping and praying there are no cops lurking in wait.
Leather squeaks beneath the force of my grip on the wheel as I merge onto the highway, wishing time would speed up.
Cars creep past in the right lane, an offense in and of itself, but the left lane is free and clear for me to make a beeline.
Dread snakes into my stomach as I imagine the worst-case scenario, my chest rising erratically with each new worry.
What if I don’t make it in time? What if…what if this morning was the last time I talked to him?
Bethany’s voice runs through my mind as I press the pedal to the floor.
Your dad had a heart attack. He’s stable for now but he’s at Methodist Hospital.
Tears blur my vision, and I swipe them away as I barrel down the road.
Getting that phone call on the heels of everything falling apart between me and Rosay was the opposite of what I needed, and I hated to leave Rosay to deal with the fall out of everything, but he’s all I have.
Not anymore, my brain reminds me.
As if my mind conjured her, my Bluetooth rings with her call.
“Is everything okay?” I ask in lieu of a greeting.
“Breathe,” she says, and I inhale like she inflated my lungs herself. “Are you okay?”
“Dad had a heart attack.” It feels so surreal to say.
The man who raised me himself, who worked harder than anyone I know to provide for me, who has been tackling cancer like a freaking boss, had a heart attack.
“He was playing Mah Jongg at the library. Thankfully the fire station is right beside it, or else…”
I can’t force the words to leave my lips, can’t focus on the negative thoughts battering against my mind.
“He’s going to be okay, babe.” Hearing her voice soothes me, filling my chest with a lightness I desperately need. “What hospital is he at?”
“Methodist. He’s stable for now.” I flip on my blinker to pass a car pulled over on the shoulder. Normally I’d stop to lend help, but not today. “I’m almost to the highway.”
“Slow down, Graham. I know you want to get there, but you can’t see him if you end up in the ER too.” I take my foot off the gas a fraction, letting the speedometer go below 100. “Winnie and Jordan get married in a few minutes, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“You don’t have to do that. Stay and celebrate with your sister.”
“And leave my fiancé to sit in a hospital alone?” she says. “Not a chance.”
Had I not been doing almost 95 miles an hour, I would’ve slammed on my brakes. Tingles spread out all over my body hearing her call herself mine. “Fiancé?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, well after that love confession, you’re stuck with me.”
I press my lips tightly together to keep from smiling. “I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s stuck with me.” Cars slow the closer I get to San Antonio, and I shift lanes when I near my exit. “I’m sorry I had to leave you with the fallout. How upset was your family?”
“Everything is fine.” Someone speaks in the background, and when she comes back to the line, she says, “We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“I’ll try to make it back tonight if he’s alright.”
“No way , Graham. That’s a two-hour drive minimum, and your dad needs you. We have all the time in the world now.”
I smile at the thought of truly having forever with her. “Okay. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Good,” she says. “Now, I’ve gotta run.”
The words ‘I love you’ are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to say them again until I see her, until I can wrap her in my arms and kiss her senseless. “Tell Winnie and Jordan I said congratulations. Talk soon.”
We hang up, and only the harsh reality of remembering the reason why I had to leave her in the first place wipes the smile from my face. I’m twenty minutes away from the hospital, unsure of what I’ll find once I get there.
The rest of the drive passes in a thunderstorm of anxiety, worries striking like lightning every time I tell myself he’ll be okay.
As I pull into the emergency parking lot, my palms are slick, stomach twisted in knots.
I surge through the automatic doors toward the welcome desk, thankful when I see no line.
“Martin Miller,” I say, breathlessly. “He was brought in about an hour and a half ago.”
She taps her keyboard then leans forward, moving her finger along the screen. “Looks like he’s up on the cardiac floor. Take the middle set of elevators up to floor seven. They can direct you from there.”
I clench and unclench my fists as I wait for the elevator to get to the lobby.
Visitors spill out of the doors, and I haphazardly bump into them when I enter.
Though I don’t normally press it, I jam my finger repeatedly into the ‘close door’ button, hoping no one comes to halt my journey.
When the door closes, I let out a breath and collapse against the cool steel wall.
I take a moment to collect myself. The last thing my dad needs is for me to come in there and get his heart rammed up again because I can’t get my own into a good rhythm.
Nurses convene around the welcome station, and they point me to the room.
Bethany sits on a chair outside the door, talking quietly on her phone.
Her gaze lifts to me as I approach. We haven’t seen each other in over a year, since she dropped off the last of my boxes from the move.
I didn’t want to step foot in the apartment where I found her cheating, so I told her to get rid of everything except a few items that mattered to me, which she dropped off a few weeks after our separation.
“Graham,” Bethany says, rising from the chair.
As much as I’d like to stop and talk to her, to thank her for everything, I need to see my dad, to know that he’s alive and well.
Machines beep as I open the door, and I exhale harshly when I see my dad resting in the bed watching his favorite game show.
My vision takes a moment to focus, but then I realize there is someone on the other side of the bed.
Holding his hand.
“Graham,” Dad says, snapping me from my stupor.
“Hey, Dad.” I walk to his bedside, gaze absorbing the blood pressure cuff and IV line placed in his arm. “What happened?”
The woman stands and pats my dad’s hand. “I’ll let you guys have some time. Want anything from the café?”
“No, I’m okay.” He watches her go with a look of…longing?
I scratch at my temple, eyebrows raised. He glares at me for a moment as if I’m interrupting something, as if I didn’t just risk my life becoming a NASCAR driver to get here and check on him.
“What happened?” I ask. “And who is that?”
“I’m fine, son. Just had a little episode.”
“A little episode?” My voice raises, then I lower to a whisper. “A little episode doesn’t require an ambulance and hospitalization.”
He groans and lets his head fall against the bed. “I just—”
The door opens, and the doctor strolls in with a nurse in tow. “Got your test results, Mr. Miller.” He extends his hand to me. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. I’m Dr. Roland.”
“Graham.” I return his hand shake. “Is my dad okay?”
“Is it okay to talk freely, Mr. Miller?”
Dad nods. “He’d just pester it out of me anyway.”
The doctor chuckles, and I glare at my dad. As if caring about him is such a nuisance.
“The ECG they took when you came in shows some mild inflammation around your heart, but nothing too severe. Bloodwork also came back good. I spoke with your oncologist and let her know what was going on, but it mainly sounds like you had some bad indigestion mixed with a little too much…excitement. We’ll get you discharged here shortly. ”
I note how he and my dad share a look I can’t decipher. The doctor leaves the room with the promise to put in the paperwork, and I stare at my dad with a raised eyebrow. His exasperated sigh sets me on edge.
“Me and Cindy might have...” He looks up at the ceiling, shoulders curving in as he ruminates on the words I’m hoping he isn’t about to say. “Gotten a little hot and heavy.”
“At the library?” I whisper-yell, slamming my hand against my forehead. My sixty-eight-year-old dad was fooling around in a public place with his lover. Vomit pushes up my esophagus at the thought.
He shrugs. “I’m sick, not dead.”
I groan, not wanting to think about this any longer. “He also said you were having some bad indigestion, probably from not eating the meals I’ve been making you. With your treatment, you can get GERD if you’re not careful about what you’re eating.”
“I know , I know. The doc already talked to me about that.” He harrumphs and crosses his arms. “I’ll do better about it.”
“Good.” I press my hand against my chest, thankful it’s thumping normally now that I know he’s okay. “Now, I gotta go out here and talk to Bethany.”
“I told her not to call you,” he grumbles.
I step outside the room to find Bethany leaning on the wall, still talking on her phone.
“I’ve gotta run,” she says to whoever is on the line.
“Thanks for waiting with him.” I stop in front of her. “Sorry, I forgot to take you off his emergency contact paperwork.”
“No worries, Graham.” Her smile is small and barely lifts her cheeks. “I’m just glad they had someone to call, and that I was able to get in contact with you finally. You normally have your phone glued to your hands.”
I used to have my phone glued to my hand all the time. Since spending time with Rosay, my hands have found something better to do than answer emails and texts the moment the arrive.
“Yeah, well, things change.”
“I can see that. Where were you?” she asks like she has any right to know.
There’s an awkward silence between us, before I break it by saying, “I was at a wedding.”
“Who’s getting married?” she asks, slipping her phone into her pocket and going into publicist mode, seeking out any morsel of information. “Anyone I know?”