Page 8 of My Best Friend's Bully

“I don’t give a fuck about the rules, I want to see my father.”

A beeping alarm sends two nurses running through a set of double doors, snatching my attention from the stubborn nurse at the desk. Raised voices come from down that hall, then I see someone I recognize, pushing through the doors in the opposite direction of all the commotion.

Mom. Her makeup is streaked by tears and she’s flanked by two doctors dressed in pale green scrubs. Rushing over, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her in close.

“It’s going to be okay, Mom,” I say, hoping that it’s the truth.

“Oh honey, you’re here.” She kisses my cheek and wraps me in a tight hug, her head only coming to my chest. “This is Dr. Brighton. He wants to speak to all of us. Where’s Cole?”

I nod at the doctor. Hopefully, he knows what he’s doing. “Back there still. With some girl.”

Mom pulls a tissue from her purse and blots under her eyes as we make our way back to the waiting room. I see Cole take the girl’s hand when we enter, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes again. God, they’re all over each other.

“How is he?” Cole asks as we approach, his eyes darting between the three of us. “Can I see him?”

The doctor holds up his hand. “He’s stable, but his injuries are pretty severe. He’ll need to stay in the hospital for a while. There’s some internal bleeding, three broken ribs, and a broken arm. You’ll be able to visit him, one at a time, in the ICU, sometime tomorrow, I hope.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Mom replies. I can tell she’s trying to hold it together for us, but her lower lip is trembling. When the doctor leaves, she crashes down into an armchair like a puppet whose strings were cut.

Cole walks with the doctor towards the vending machines, and I watch as they whisper something inaudible as I take the seat next to mom and pull her close. I let her rest her head on my shoulder, and feel some of the tension washing away from her. When I look up, I catch the girl’s eyes on me and hold them until she looks away.

“Why are you still here?” I spit. Her eyes widen in surprise.

“Jesus, Ty,” Cole groans, as the doctor scurries away down the hallway. Cole is still pale as a sheet, the circles beneath his eyes jumping out in stark purple.

Mom interrupts before I can reply, sitting up. “Please boys, calm down. My nerves can’t take this right now.”

A frisson of tension electrifies the space between us, and I jump to my feet—if I have to keep my mouth shut, I must keep moving. I can’t bear to be around him a second longer. I’m only here for Mom.

“Do you think he’s dying?” She turns to Cole, tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes.

Cole takes a moment, probably turning over the doctor’s words in his head. “He’s not in the clear yet, Mom, but the doctor said he’s stable, and I know they’re doing everything they can to help him.”

But there’s a crack in his voice that breaks through his own reserved doctor demeanor. He buries his face in Mom’s shoulder. The girl rubs his back until their sobs subside. They look like a family, the three of them, and I’m on the outside.

I can’t stand looking at him any longer, so I leave, stalking down the hall until I find the cafeteria. There’s a sad little station serving coffee from foam cups, so I order the biggest size they have. It’s burnt and bitter, but the strong flavor seems to soothe the lump in my throat. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz as I take a seat on one of the plastic chairs, cradling my head in my hands. It would have been so much easier to stay in Philly. Nine years away from Cole. Nine. They’ve been the best years of my life.

I kick the leg of the chair across from me, ignoring the shocked looks from the other people scattered through the cafeteria. I’m tempted to walk out the door. Mom would understand, she knows how hard it is for me to be around him and I know she’d forgive me. Plus, I showed up. That’s more than I’ve done in years.

The coffee warms my hands as I stare out the window, watching the trees buckle and bend with the gusts of wind. I begin to relax as if my anger is flowing out from me and into the trees. By the time I’ve finished the cup, caffeine is thrumming through me, and I feel ready to face the family scene back in the waiting room. It’s the girl’s face that comes to mind when I start my walk back. She’s stunning in that girl-next-door sort of way, and I wonder why she would ever go for someone like Cole. I take another cup of coffee, this one to go, and head back down the hall.

This is temporary, I think as I step back into the waiting room. I can’t believe I added to Mom’s stress like that, going after Cole in front of her. The way she buckled when the doctor told us how severe my father’s injuries are reminded me how delicate she is, how much she needs me to be strong for her.

“We should get you home, Mom.” There’s no relaxing here, not with the constant hum of machinery, fluorescent lights, and that sterile chemical smell. She needs to be in her own home. “I’ll drive you.”

She pulls a tissue from her purse and dabs at her eyes. “I can’t just leave him here all alone. What if something happens while we’re gone?”

Remembering the nurse’s denial of my request to see my father, I find it hard to believe that they’ll let Mom sleep in a chair next to Dad. I pinch my temples between my fingers. “Let me see what I can do.”

There’s nothing money cannot solve, not when you have enough of it. Pulling out my phone, I dial Rebecca.

In her ever-efficient way, it takes Rebecca less than five minutes to get me the number of the person in charge at the hospital, but I reject her offer to call him. “I can handle it from here, Rebecca. Thank you. For everything.”

“What do you think you’re going to do?” Cole’s bimbo asks, contempt in her tone. “They’re not just going to rearrange the ICU for you.”

“You’d be surprised. I’ll be back shortly.”

Using the directory, I locate the office of the man I’m looking for, Franklin James. His office is on the fourth level, so I take the stairs up and find the door at the end of the hallway with the placard “Franklin S James, M.D.” I knock forcefully three times on the plain wooden door, and when there is no response I open it. A round-bellied mustached man is sitting at a desk, mouth open in surprise.

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