One burnt bagel and two very bad cups of coffee later, Felicity and I were back in the waiting room of the ICU. Mom hadn’t come back out and we sat there, on pins and needles waiting for news. It was the most painful hour of my life.
The not knowing.
“How are Leslie and Julia?” I asked Felicity. Leslie was ten and Julia had just turned three. I didn’t get to see my nieces nearly often enough, but I made sure never to miss a birthday or a Christmas. I was cool Auntie Riley, mostly because I lavished the two girls with gifts and ice cream. I was a ruthless child briber. But I intended to keep the title of greatest aunt ever at whatever the cost.
“They’re great. Leslie has decided she wants to learn how to play the guitar. So Sam bought her an old beater from the thrift shop. We’ll see how long the desire lasts. Julia will be starting a new pre-school after Christmas. She’s already trying to read. We call her our little Einstein,” Felicity said, beaming with pride.
“That’s awesome. You have some great kids, Fliss,” I said, giving her as much of a smile as I could muster.
“What about you? How’s school? Mom said you were interning at the local paper. That’s pretty great, Ri,” my sister commented.
“Yeah…” I trailed off as the doors to the ICU opened and my mom came into the waiting room. Both Felicity and myself got to our feet and my brother was instantly awake. He barely processed the fact that I was there; he was immediately by Mom’s side.
Her face was ashen and she looked sick. “What is it, Mom?” Gavin asked her. My brother looked like he had aged ten years.
Mom griped his arm, as though she couldn’t stand up on her own. “They’re going to start prepping him for surgery. Your father has a total blockage of one of his coronary arteries. They need to go in and repair the damage. So now is the time to see him.” My mom didn’t need to say while you can. Because that was implied. Dad’s situation was obviously very serious and I just wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
“Only one of you can go back at a time,” my mom said. She was totally frazzled and I could see how tenuous her grip on things was. Gavin turned to me and motioned me toward the doors.
“You just got here, Riley. We’ve all seen him. Go on back,” he urged with a sad smile. I squeezed my big brother’s hand and buzzed to be let back.
Seeing your father hooked up to a million different tubes and wires with the constant drone of beeping and wining of monitors was like a swift kick to the head. It shatters any illusion that you may have that your parents are infallible. That they are beyond mortal trappings like sickness and death.
It reminds you that your parents are human. And I think that’s the truest sign that you’ve passed from the innocence of adolescence to the shitfest of adulthood. I think I’d like to book my return ticket back to blissful ignorance, please.
He looked so small in the hospital bed. His skin was white and seemed completely devoid of color. Even his lips were pale and seemed to blend in with the pallor of his face. It was scary seeing him like that.
I sat down beside the bed and took his hand in mine. It seemed like such a stereotypical thing to do. To cry by his bedside and plead with him to pull through. I wasn’t one for clichés in any form but right now it was the only thing I could do.
My dad’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at me. “Hiya kiddo,” he said, his voice hoarse and unused. He tried to smile but it was a weak imitation of what I was used to from him.
“Hiya, Dad. You sure do know how to make us worry about you. If you wanted the attention, couldn’t you think of a better way to get it?” I teased even as my eyes welled up with tears.
My dad’s fingers squeezed mine and I knew if he had the energy he would have laughed at my bad attempt at humor. “Give your old man a break. This was my excuse for a vacation. Otherwise your mom would have made me start painting the porch,” he joked and I couldn’t help but grin.
The fact that my dad’s sense of humor was in tact was the biggest reassurance I could have. He seemed…well…like himself. I hadn’t been sure what to expect and my head had gone instantly to every horrible scenario I could imagine. I had thought that he’d be a shell. Or that he wouldn’t know who I was. That’s what I get for watching way too much bad television.
“Well, we can’t have that right? I think you’ve gotten out of the honey do list for the foreseeable future,” I told him and he tried to laugh but ended up coughing, his face contorting painfully. I immediately felt horrible. Why did I have to make every serious situation a joke? My defense mechanisms majorly sucked.
“Sorry, Dad,” I said, contrite. My dad looked at me, his eyes dull and starting to unfocus a bit as the exhaustion took over. Talking to me was obviously taking a lot out of him.
“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re here. Things are always so much better when Riley Boo’s around,” he said, his words dropping to the barest whisper as his eyes drooped closed.
“Well I’m not going anywhere,” I promised as my dad drifted in and out of sleep. I sat with him for almost an hour, dividing my attention between watching his chest rise and fall and staring at the numbers on the monitors wishing they made some sort of sense.
I must have drifted off because the feel of my dad’s hand on the back of my head had me startling awake. I rubbed at my tired eyes as my exhausted brained struggled to remember where I was. I looked over at Dad and saw that he was awake even though his skin was sallow and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked and he looked horrible.
“You’re tired, sweetheart. You should head back to the house and get some rest,” my dad said in a strained whisper.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me,” I chided. My dad tried to smile but it fell short. Instead he dropped his hand from my head back into his lap, where it lay limply.
“Riley, I just want you to know that I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. All your mom and I have ever wanted was for you to be successful and happy,” my dad said and I could see the effort it took him to speak.
“Dad, I know. You don’t need to tire yourself out by telling me stuff you’ve already told me a million times,” I scolded teasingly, patting the back of his hand.
My dad frowned. “Humor your old man, please.” I shut up and propped my elbows on the bed and watched him closely, agonizingly alert for any subtle change in him. My eyes darted to the monitors out of the corner of my eye as if I could understand what they were saying.