TEN
Ryan
My Fiat was parked just around the corner. I offered Willow a ride. She was more than grateful to accept it. Her father had been admitted to New York-Presbyterian on Williams Street in lower Manhattan, not far from his deli. Yet another hospital whose board my philanthropic mother sat on.
Sitting beside me in the small car, Willow was stone-faced. Biting down on her bottom lip, she didn’t say a word as I drove down Fifth Avenue, expertly weaving in and out of the crazy lunch hour traffic, trying to get to the hospital as fast as possible. At a light at 34th Street, she burst into tears.
“Oh, Ryan!” she sobbed. “I’m so scared. What if he dies before we get there?”
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I gripped her hand with the other. It was cold as ice. “Butterfly, it’s going to be okay.” Butterfly. A term of endearment. I couldn’t help it.
She squeezed my hand. I think she wanted to believe me. With quivering lips, she looked my way. Her misty eyes glistened like emeralds, making her more exquisite. There was a moment at the next light that I wanted to kiss her and make all her tears go away.
We parked the car with the valet and dashed into the hospital. She let me hold her hand as we headed to the information center. My distraught Willow was still in tears and could barely speak. “I’m looking for…” Her sobs didn’t allow her to finish her sentence, so I did it for her.
“Melvin Rosenthal. He had a heart attack.”
An attractive African American woman scanned his name on her computer. “Yes. He was just admitted. He’s in intensive care.”
“I want to see him!” cried out Willow.
“Sorry, Miss. No visitors allowed at this time.”
“But, I’m his daughter,” she pleaded desperately.
I hated to wield the power of my last name, but there were times it came in handy. I eyed the name card pinned on the woman’s hospital uniform. “Sheila, I’m Ryan Madewell…my parents donated the…”
The woman’s face brightened. “Of course, I’ve met your lovely mother. I think I can make an exception this time. She gave us visitor badges, which we clipped on to our sweaters.
Adjusting her badge, Willow gazed at me with her watery eyes, forlorn but full of gratitude. “Oh, Ryan, I’m so glad you’re here with me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.” I gently kissed the top of her head, inhaling the strawberry scent of her hair. Had this been a different situation, my lips would have consumed hers. And she would be thanking me in a different way.
I waited in the tenth-floor reception area while Willow visited her father. I tried to read a magazine but couldn’t. Being in a hospital made me emotionally and physically ill. It made me think of Allee. Our last night together. An intense, nauseating sadness washed over me. I thought I would throw up when Willow reappeared. Her bloodshot eyes met mine. I leaped up from my seat.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s going to be okay. His heart attack was mild, but they’re going to keep him in ICU for a few days.” Her face brightened. “He may be home early next week.”
“That’s great news.” Drawing her into me, I gave her a hug. Her waif-like body felt so good in my arms. With a sigh, she leaned her head against my chest. I smoothed her hair and savored the warmth of body next to mine.
“Thanks again, Ryan, for being here for me.” She gazed up at me, with a small grateful smile and blinking back tears. I wiped them away. It felt good to be needed. It had been a very long time.