Page 72 of Quintessentially

Our time was up.

No time for a transfer.

The last person who came to talk to us told us that Dad needed three bypasses, and he was being prepped for surgery. While Mom was allowed to go back and see him, Justin and I stayed here in the waiting room. It has been over four hours since that visit, and we haven’t heard a thing.

It’s as if my nerves are about to stretch to the point of snapping.

The buzz of people in the waiting room and hallways is getting louder as morning brings the hospital to life. We silently watch as people get in and out of the elevators and walk from here to there. I can’t help but wonder what their stories are and if they’re hopeful or not.

I want to be hopeful.

Last night, I called Chloe. She was as wonderful as ever, coming to our house so that Molly could stay asleep. Since today is Sunday, Chloe doesn’t have patients.

As I sit here, I’m wondering if she’s awake and if Chloe has spoken to Molly. Being that it’s not even six in the morning, I’m afraid to call and wake them. It was after midnight when Chloe arrived. I also called Dax. We didn’t talk long. I am too emotional and feel too uninformed to tell him much of anything.

There’s a part of me that’s happy I have him to call—to talk with. Right now, it’s the part of me that I’m trying to hold onto. If Dax and I can come back together, miracles are possible, and Dad will be okay.

Justin taps my arm. “You want to go with me to the cafeteria? We could get Mom something to eat.”

Mom looks up at us.

“I can stay with Mom,” I offer.

Mom shakes her head. “I’m okay. I’d like a yogurt if there’s any.”

“And coffee?” Justin asks.

“Only if it’s better than what they have up here on this floor.”

Going to Mom, I crouch down. “Are you sure? Justin can get everything. I hate to leave you alone.”

Mom nods. “Walk around. You have your phones. I can call.”

When I look at my brother, he nods.

It feels good to walk, to be out of the uncomfortable chairs. I lean my head against Justin’s shoulder once we’re inside the elevator and close my eyes.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” he asks.

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “It’s all a blur.”

The doors open and more people enter.

As we’re walking the hallways, the same ones we did six years ago when Dad had his first heart attack, I scrunch my nose and say, “Why do hospitals smell?”

“Because no one wants to be here.”

The cafeteria is filling with people as workers place items in the different bins and the grill is firing up with eggs and bacon.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“No. You?”

He shakes his head. “Just some decent coffee.”

“Me too. I’ll get Mom’s yogurt.”

It’s as I’m reaching into the ice and choosing a flavor that someone comes up behind me. I’m a bit put off by the proximity, ready to call for Justin, when I turn and am met with the most handsome golden stare. I can’t believe my eyes.

---