Page 33 of Silk and Steel

I stop by the door, afraid to come inside. Afraid to intrude on what might be a family moment.

“I’m…why won’t you tell me anything, Mom? You don’t know? You must know something, if you think he has to be rushed to the…hello?”

Emory curses and stares at her phone as if it has betrayed her.

“Emory, what’s the matter?”

She looks up at me, blue eyes filled with agonized worry.

“My dad… something’s wrong.”

7

EMORY

“What’s wrong?”

Cole’s eyes narrow to slits. I can see the vein sticking out on his temple. He’s ready for action. Ready to hurt someone.

Only this time, there’s no one to hurt. Unless maybe it’s the grim reaper.

“Did Lovejoy and his goons do something?” Cole demands.

“No, my dad’s just sick, Cole. He’s been sick for a long time, and he has to go to the hospital. That’s pretty much all I know at this point.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes.

“All right. Do you know which hospital?”

“No…wait, yes. Smidt. Our insurance is set up that he’d go to Smidt, most likely. I’ll text my Mom to confirm.”

“Do it on the road. Come on.”

He checks to make sure the coast is clear before letting me come outside. As soon as the truck door slams shut, he’s already burning rubber to get out on the road. I nearly drop the phone as we screech around a corner and head for the freeway.

“Mom says he’s in Smidt,” I announce.

Cole nods his head. His eyes dart all over the place, as if he wants to peer inside every car, and scrutinize every pedestrian we pass on the way. I know I should be just as worried as Cole is. Yet, concern for my own well being has been completely co-opted by worrying for my father.

I get a sick feeling in my stomach on the way to the hospital. It feels like someone clutching my guts and twisting them up in knots. It’s all I can do to not vomit. I rock gently in my seat, trying to keep my mounting frustration under control.

“Is everyone going to pass us just to go ten miles an hour?” I sputter. “What is this guy’s problem?”

“I’ll get us there as fast as I can,” Cole says. He guns the engine to pass the car ahead of us.

I shake my head. “What if this is it? What if we get there, and my Dad is dying? Or what if he’s already dead? Oh my god, he tried to call me the other day and I didn’t answer because I was in the middle of working with the band. I never got back to him! I never got back to him, Cole, and now it’s too late.”

“Emory!”

Cole’s voice is loud, but not harsh. It draws me out of my panic attack.

“You’re starting to spiral, Emory. Hold it together. Your father could be all right.”

“Or he might not be! Some of us don’t have purple hearts. Not everyone can deal with horror as easily as you can.”

He winces. I realize that I’ve said too much. I actually don’t know how much tragedy is hiding behind Cole’s stoic gaze.

“All I can tell you is what they taught me during my demo disposal training,” he says, his tone carefully even. “Sometimes, you’ll run into a situation where you just don’t know which wire is going to set off the bomb, and which one is going to disarm it. If you let your fear and anxiety get the best of you, you’ll be shaking so bad you’ll wind up cutting both of them anyway. It’sbest not to focus on all the ways something can go wrong. You’ll never be done.”

---