Page 108 of Unspoken Words
“Shit. I have to pull over and take this call. Sorry.”
“Sure, not a problem. Is everything okay?”
A look of uncertainty shot from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Should be.”
Connor cut the engine and answered the call, his voice calm but slightly annoyed. “What’s up?” His back stiffened. “Calm down. I can’t understand you.”
The colour drained from his face. My heartbeat quickened.
“Fuck! Where?” He threw the car into drive. “Okay. I’m on my way.” Connor tossed his phone onto my lap. “Sorry. Change of plans. Max has been rushed to hospital.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Connor
The glass entry doors toGreenhills Hospital parted, and I hurried through them, clipping my shoulder on the slow-moving doorframe.
“Connor, be careful,” Ellie said from behind me.
I wasn’t concerned for my own safety, only Max’s. I didn’t want him being in this place a second longer without me by his side. I hated hospitals with a passion. The smell: sterile, sour, and stifling. It was a scent distinct from anything else on earth. The scent of promise and hope amidst pain and suffering, and it permeated stark white walls and overly polished linoleum flooring.
Hospitals were death, and sickness, and life.
Rushing through the foyer, I stopped at the reception counter where a middle-aged clerk was typing on her computer keyboard.
“My son, Max Bourke, was brought here by ambulance with a broken arm. He’s only three-years-old,” I explained.
She clicked her mouse and stared at the screen. “You said the patient’s name was Max Bourke, yes?”
“Yes. I’m Connor Bourke, his father.”
“Right.” She clicked her mouse again then jotted down a string of letters and numbers on a sticky note before handing it to me. “He’s at the ER. Head down that hallway to your left and give this note to the clerk at reception counter B. Explain you’re next of kin. They’ll help you.” Her eyes were kind but mostly emotionless as she passed me the note, the panicked-parent scenario probably nothing out of the ordinary for her.
“Thank you,” I said, taking it from her and heading in the direction she advised.
Ellie rushed along with me, her steps smaller but much faster in order to keep up.
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be here. I promise I’ll get you home as soon as I know he’s all right.”
“It’s fine, Connor.”
“Are you sure? Lilah will be her—”
“I don’t give a shit about Lilah,” Ellie stopped and pulled her asthma puffer from her bag, shaking it before inhaling. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, breathless. “I’m a big girl.” She took a couple of deep breaths. “And anyway, Max is your number one priority.”
“You okay?” I touched her shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She placed her hands on her hips and sucked in a deep. “Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”
“I can wait.” I wanted to, to make sure she was all right; she obviously hadn’t grown out of her asthma. But I was also desperate to be with my son.
She inhaled again. “No, just go. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
I turned the corner and nearly slammed into a group of hospital staff in white lab coats and coloured gowns, clipboards pressed to their chest as they made their rounds. I apologised but kept jogging until I reached reception counter B, where I handed over the sticky note and explained who I was.
The clerk pointed to a curtain-covered area on the other side of the counter. “Your son is in cubicle eight, Mr Bourke. Although, he may have just been taken to Radiology for X-rays.”
