Page 16 of Of Blood and Smoke

Brett came in and shut the door while I tugged on a pair of pants. “Melinda found him unconscious. She called the hospital; they’re taking him now.”

“What?” I yelled at him. “And you’re just telling me now? Get out of my way.”

I shoved past him and ran into the hallway, immediately faced with paramedics and a worried Melinda. “Dad?” I called out.

One of the medical technicians came over to me, followed by my dad’s caretaker. “We’re bringing him in. You’re his next of kin?”

I proceeded to give the man my information while Melinda went to retrieve his go-bag loaded with changes of clothes, toiletries, and medications.

“What happened?” I asked. I felt a hand on my waist and elbowed Brett, dislodging him.

The technician answered, “We won’t know for certain until he’s seen by the doctor.”

Melinda brought his items out to the living room as the ambulance crew moved back and forth. They loaded my dad onto a stretcher while I watched helplessly. “I think he had another stroke, but we have to let the doctors ascertain that,” she offered, a sad smile on her face.

“Why did nobody wake me up?” I demanded, looking back and forth between Brett and Melinda.

“It just happened, I just got up,” he defended himself.

My dad was being carted out the door. “He’s stable, Della,” Melinda stated. “You can meet us at the hospital. You called out of work, right?”

There was too much happening, too much noise.

“Where were you last night?” I wheeled on Brett.

“What the fuck you talking about? With you.” He stepped up to me, our chests nearly touching. “Don’t give me that attitude,” he hissed into my hair so only I would hear.

He picked a great time to be an asshole.

Rubbing my forehead, I mumbled, “What time is it?” I glanced at the clock on the wall.Shit. “Again—why did no one wake me up?” No one answered.

Scurrying after the last of the ambulance crew, I stopped the man about to close the door. “What hospital? The General?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guy nodded to me, and I thanked him.

Melinda placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to follow them in, I’ll call you later.”

I wanted to go with them, but I knew the drill. This wasn’t an unusual event; something happening to my dad and him being carted away by a medical team. He’d have an episode of somesort, spend time in the hospital, and come back. The one thing we could rely on to never change was our bills.

Survival depended on me going to work.

It was two hours after I was supposed to be at the restaurant. I groaned out loud when the actual time finally computed in my scrambled brain. Searching for my phone, I asked Brett softly, again, “Where’d you go last night?”

“I was here.” He walked to the counter and picked up a mug of coffee and took a sip. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

I wanted to punch him. “Yes. Thanks for making me coffee,” I said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice while also hinting he should’ve been more considerate and had a cup waiting for me.

Irritated with my bad mood, he stuck a coffee pod in the machine on the counter, slammed the K-cup holder down, and pressed the button.

“Where the hell is my phone,” I complained and stormed back to my room. Somehow, it had fallen on the floor. I leaned over and grabbed it.

There were no missed calls, just a missed text message from Melinda stating she’d called nine-one-one. I let out a breath and dialed the restaurant.

Rubbing my hands down my face I sat on the edge of my bed after I set the device to the side. My manager had hung up with a fake “I’m so sorry” after what I told her. It didn’t matter, there were hundreds of people waiting to fill my shoes.

My dad was back in the hospital, Brett mysteriously disappeared during the night, and I’d gotten fired from my job for missing the shift I was supposed to be working right now. I was past the two-hour window for calling in, so they said I’d voluntarily quit, and I wasn’t about to beg for a job that I’d hated anyway. I’d just find another. Somehow.

Mickey D’s, here I come.

---