Page 94 of The Wrong Quarterback

By the time we pulled up to the hospital, my chest felt tight, every breath suddenly strained. Casey stayed close, her hand still in mine as we walked through the automatic doors and into the sterile, cold environment of the hospital. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the smell of antiseptic hit me like a slap to the face.

I’d been here too many times before.

We checked in at the front desk, and the nurse gave us an update of how my mom was before directing us down the hall to her room. My steps slowed as we got closer, because I didn’t want to see her like this. I didn’t wantCaseyto meet her like this.

I prided myself on being in control of almost everything in my life.

But I’d never been able to have control over my mom’s unwillingness…to live.

When we reached her room, I hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door. The sight of her lying in that hospital bed, pale and fragile, made my chest tighten. She looked so small, so…breakable. Like one wrong move would shatter her completely.

I let go of Casey’s hand and walked over to the side of the bed. My mom was sleeping, her breathing shallow, her skin almost translucent in the harsh hospital light. It was hard to reconcile this woman in front of me with the mom I remembered from before—before everything fell apart.

I stood there for a moment, just looking at her.

“Hey, Mom,” I said softly, though I knew she wouldn’t respond. “It’s me. Parker.”

She didn’t stir, didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell with each slow breath, but it felt like she was already gone, like she’d checked out long before she ever landed in this hospital bed.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak.

The words that I knew I should say felt like knives in my chest, each one cutting deeper than the last. I needed to say them. I needed to let my mom go, but I didn’t know how.

Casey came up next to me and leaned her head against my arm.

“I don’t want her to suffer anymore,” I whispered, my voice barely audible now. “But I keep thinking that one of these days she’ll decide to fight. Hope is a fucking dangerous thing, though.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and I could feel the tears burning in my eyes. I hadn’t cried in years—hadn’t let myself—but now, standing here, I was close.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket, grateful for something else to do but stare at my mom and will her to wake up.

“Hey,” I said to Walker, putting it on speaker phone in the hopes that Mom would hear his voice and come to.

“Sorry, Parker. We had a game tonight. I just saw your text.”

I could hear people talking in the background. He must have still been in the locker room.

“Yeah, I figured you would see it when you were finished. Did you win?” I asked. Usually I’d be watching the game or at least tracking the score closely, but obviously I hadn’t had a chance tonight.

“Yes, thank fuck. We were down by one, and Linc tied it in the last minute. Then Rookie ended up scoring in the first thirty seconds of overtime. It was a fucking game.”

There was a pause.

“How is she?”

I knew my brothers felt guilty that I carried the majority of the load of caring for Mom, but it was more of an unspoken thing between us.

“She hasn’t woken up. They’ve got an IV going. They’re going to do a feeding tube if she won’t eat on her own. But…she’s at least stable.”

I turned back to my mom, hoping—praying—that maybe she had opened her eyes.

But, of course, she hadn’t.

“Casey’s here with me, though,” I said, glancing at Casey who was listening quietly at my side.

“Meeting the parents. It’s getting serious,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. He didn’t realize he was on speakerphone, obviously. Casey was suddenly trying to pretend she couldn’t hear anything.

“Very,” I told him, watching as she started blushing furiously.

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