Page 189 of The First Time
Chapter Thirty-Four
Kit
It's just past three A.M. when I finally get to the hospital. Public transit isn't running this time of night, not that they're of much use for the final third of the airport to suburban hospital journey. My phone is dead. That means no rideshare. Only cabs, and not all of them are willing to go this far out.
Even at this time of night, the emergency room is crowded. There are crying babies, screaming children, and stoic adults staring at each other like all hope is lost.
My father is in a chair in the corner. He looks exactly like he did last time I saw him—must have been the Christmas before last. Same wavy dark hair, same chiseled jaw, same dark eyes. Only difference is he's wearing a suit instead of a sweater.
Anger bubbles in my veins as I move closer. This isn't his fault, not exactly, but it's not like he's done shit to help Mom.
I hate how glad I am that he's here. I hate that I want him to sit me down and explain that shit is going to be okay.
I hate that part of me believes he can fix this.
My head is so full it's buzzing. The lack of sleep doesn't help. I need to see Mom, then I need to get into a bed. This will all be clearer in the morning.
I cross the lobby and tap my father on the shoulder.
He looks up at me. "Christoper. You're here."
"Yeah." My fingers curl into fists. I try to fight it, but it's useless. My hands are trained to follow their instincts.
"She's not in the ER anymore. She was admitted a few hours ago." He pushes himself up from his chair and nods to the East wing of the hospital. "It's past visiting hours, but we can sneak in for a few minutes."
Of course we can. Dad has the charm and looks to get entry everywhere. That's half the reason why we're here. If he wasn't so good at getting into women's pants—
I know that's not it, not exactly, but I don't have the energy to dive into the nitty gritty.
My head is spinning. I'm fucking tired.
I need sleep. Or coffee.
Dad moves past me, to the front desk. He smiles at the nurse working admissions, an older woman in pink scrubs. He turns on the charm, whispering something as he shoots herfuck meeyes.
It works. She smiles, nods to the door, and motionsone minute.
I shouldn't complain. I'm getting what I want.
Dad motions for me to follow him into the hallway. I do. It's bleak, too white, too bright, too squeaky.
We stop in front of Mom's room. He goes to pull open the door, but I stop him.
"She's asleep." I can see her through the window. She looks peaceful. Calm. High.
He nods. "It's been a rough day."
"Yeah."
"I found her in bed when I got home. She wasn't moving. I called an ambulance, they rushed her here, pumped her stomach." He plants his hand on my shoulder. "Kit, you listening?"
Sort of. My head is still spinning. I nodyeah.
"It wasn't enough to be intentional, but she'll still have to do a psych evaluation in the morning. If they don't rule it a suicide attempt, she'll be out."
I nod. I know the drill. It never happened to me, but I saw enough friends OD to know the fucking drill.
The hall is squeaking again. Those are footsteps. The nurse in the pink scrubs is walking towards us.
