Page 93 of We Were Something
I’ve been sitting here like a robot since the moment I arrived, and suddenly I feel overwhelmed by the reality of what’s to come.
“Logan.”
The sound of my name snaps my head to the side, where I see Paige watching me with concern.
“I think you need to get some sleep,” she tells me, her hand rubbing warmly over my shoulders. “You’ve been here since late last night, and you haven’t slept at all.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to leave. When she comes back from surgery…”
“When she’s done with surgery, I’ll be here. EvenIknow brain surgery is going to take a lot out of someone. It won’t hurt if you head to her house, take a shower, maybe nap for a few hours, and then come back.”
I look at the empty room, thinking it over.
“Dr. Ramos said the surgery could take three or four hours, and when she’s back, I’ll be here. She won’t be alone. I promise. Not for one second.”
Ultimately, I know she’s right. And if there are decisions to be made once sheisback from surgery, a few hours of rest will help ensure I have a clear mind.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Again. Thank you for everything you’ve been doing.”
Paige shakes her head and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad I can be here for you.”
I place a soft kiss on her lips, inhaling deeply to store away some of her delicious scent before I grab the shopping bag filled with clothes and toiletries Paige bought for me then head through and out of the hospital like a zombie to catch a cab to mom’s.
It’s after eight PM when I walk through her front door, and I immediately wish I’d been a stubborn ass who stayed in the hospital.
This isn’t a house I grew up in. We moved around too frequently when I was a kid for any one place to ‘feel like home’ to me. But this is the house I bought for her when she moved up to be near me and Jen. It’s small and simple, but so much larger and more comfortable than the tiny, cramped apartments we lived in throughout my childhood.
And it smells like her. That familiar scent of her floral perfume mixed with the mints she keeps in little tins in all her purses. There are pictures of me everywhere. From the naked photographs taking a bath in the kitchen sink to kindergarten graduation to sailing team photos and the two of us standing next to the blue welcome sign at Yale on Trumbull Street.
She’s been there for every important moment of my life, and I’m suddenly stricken by the idea that she might not be there for any more.
I take a shower and change into a pair of fresh boxers before tumbling into the bed in the guestroom, setting my alarm to allow me a two-hour nap before I’ll have to wake and hightail it back to the hospital. That’s more than enough time for me to get in a really good rest, my years of working on little sleep finally coming in handy. If I head back to the hospital around ten, that should give just enough time for them to finish the surgery and wheel mom back to her room.
Staring at the ceiling, I try not to allow myself to think too much about the things that would scare me. The idea of mom dying, of something going seriously wrong, is shoved from my brain, replaced with the positive vibe bullshit I always try to encourage my patients with.
I try to stay hopeful. I try to keep my faith in her medical team. I close my eyes and try to imagine her with me in the future, standing by my side for something important.
Not that I have many important big life moments left.
And my last thought, the last thing I can recall thinking before I drift off into a restless sleep, is that I hope she gets to meet Paige.
CHAPTER18
PAIGE
“Hi Mrs. Becker.”
I clear my throat and adjust where I’m seated in my chair, shifting a bit closer to the end of Logan’s mom’s bed. The doctors brought her back a little while ago, wheeling her in and hooking her back up to the ventilator and whatever machine monitors her heartbeat.
I figured while I’m here alone with her, we can have a little chat.
“My name is Paige Andrews. You haven’t met me yet, and if I’m completely honest, I don’t know if your son was planning on introducing me to you soon, or if he’d thought about it at all.”
Laughter bubbles in my throat, but I tamp it down. It just doesn’t feel right to laugh in the ICU when someone is hooked up to life support.
“We actually haven’t been together all that long. I met him…wow, a little over a month ago, though it feels like much longer than that and…well, I kind of couldn’t get him off my mind. So I pestered him until he agreed to spend some time with me. And my friends helped.”
At that thought, recalling the night Lennon put on her terrible performance to try to convince Logan to drive me home, Idolaugh.
