Page 93 of Boundaries

It was getting light outside now and I checked the clock on the wall to see it was just after three in the morning. I was so tired I ached.

The waiting area was a square room with chairs set out against three walls and then a few more attached to the floor, running down the centre. There were posters promoting good health and a large illustration on the wall near the door which showed you what types of uniforms the different staff wore. I noted that green was worn by the surgeons. The doctor that met the ambulance had been wearing green scrubs. I swallowed away the lump that fact created.

My eyes tiredly searched the room. There was nothing else you could do.

A crabby old man walked past me with a dressing gown on, it was royal blue velour and had the Superman logo on the back. I managed to crack a smile. If he was in there, we were all fucked.

As well as the water cooler, there was a vending machine which was stocked with an assortment of chocolate bars and cans of pop. A few other people had entered the room now and I wondered fleetingly what their story was. It took my mind off worrying about Mason, if only for a few seconds. I noticed Superman by the water cooler, no doubt replenishing his powers in liquid format.

Doctors and nurses ambled around, but no one seemed to have any updates on Mason’s condition. After well over an hour, I started to lose what little patience I had.

“So, you and Mason,” Seth suddenly put in from the side of me. Nixon appeared to have vanished again, no doubt in another attempt to threaten the doctors if they didn’t give him any more information. He was in full-on intimidation mode again, the tats in his arms screaming don’t mess with me.

It was amazing how the same two pretty nurses kept coming into the waiting area to use the vending machine when Nixon was in there. Sorry ladies, you don’t compare in any way shape or form to his wife. No one outshone Jenna. I stuffed the useless thought away, remembering my silent promise to Mason about comparing myself to my sister.

I smiled at Seth without saying anything. Not ready for a conversation about my relationship with his brother just then.

He withdrew his phone, “Just so you know, we’re in touch with Mattie. He’s at our house now and is in contact with your parents.”

I released a sigh of helplessness. Mum would be going out of her mind, but I didn’t have my phone and so couldn’t text them. Of course, my phone would now have been destroyed as well as all my photographs. A second wave of sadness hit me. All those shots I had taken over the years, gone.

As I thought about the fire and how it started, a flare of anger jetted into me. Why and how had it started? Especially considering what happened to the house at Lamb Hill several years ago.

Seth’s voice penetrated those thoughts. “Do you know your mom’s number? You can use my phone if you want,” Seth kindly offered. He really was the sweetest.

I shook my head, “No, if Mattie is in touch with them that’s fine. I haven’t got the energy to speak to my mum at the minute. What about your parents?”

Seth inhaled. “They’re on their way here. Don’t worry, everything is under control.”

“Thank you, Seth,” I said, relishing his warmth.

He shuffled beside me as he pocketed his phone.

“Just forget about everything else and concentrate on Mason. He’s tough you know,” Seth said firmly but I caught the crack in his voice.

I squeezed his knee. He was only fifteen at the end of the day, he may be built like a brick shit house, but he was young and just as terrified as I was.

Suddenly there was a ruckus at the door as Nixon appeared again, with aggression oozing from his shoulders.

“If some fucker doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to start to smash stuff,” he bit out under his breath. He was careful not to shout as we weren’t the only family members waiting for word about a loved one. I studied the intensity on Nixon’s face, he was losing his shit. To be honest, we all were, but in our own silent ways.

Then, time stopped still. A white-coated doctor appeared, one that looked all official and we all stood as he approached.

My heart was in my throat, I had never been so uncertain in my life.

He stepped further into the room and then beckoned us all outside into the corridor. We moved out of the way of the door and the doctor provided us with an update on Mason’s condition.

“Mason has sustained a significant head injury and we need to operate,” he said with an unreadable expression. What happened to bedside manner and all that? Where was the sympathy and why did my heart feel like it was being held in this man’s fist? I took a deep breath and focused on what he was saying, jumping slightly as Nixon slid a comforting hand around my shoulders.

“We may have to put him into a coma.”

“A what? Why?” I shot out before I could stop myself as fear lanced up my spine.

The doctor held up a reassuring hand, “Its common practice with these types of injury. It would be a medically induced coma.”

BOOM! The tears I’d been holding breached the surface and poured down my cheeks. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Was I having a panic attack? No, no, no! I didn’t understand, what did he mean? Was Mason going to die? Why put him to sleep? Wasn’t a coma that thing that people never woke up from or did but only years later? I managed to choke out a cough and the air spewed from my lungs.

Nixon pulled me into his arms and I leaned against him, my legs wobbling, “Please, calm down Amy. You need to be strong,” he said quite firmly down into my hair. Emotion shook my entire body.

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