Page 109 of Pity Party

“I can ask them to leave while we’re there if you want.”

Sammy shakes her head. “No, they should stay.” A lone tear slides down her cheek as she adds, “I want to love her, but I don’t yet. If she dies, she should be surrounded by people who love her.”

I want to turn my head up and scream into the air at the injustice that my daughter has to go through this. When will she have suffered enough?

Melissa peeks her head in the window. “The tank is full. I’m just going to run inside and use the ladies’ room. Do you need to go, Sammy?”

Sammy unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. They’re only gone for a few minutes. When they come back, I suggest, “Why don’t you get in the back, Sam? You can recline your seat and take a nap.”

She climbs into the back without question. Melissa gets behind the wheel again, so I take Sammy’s old spot. “Thank you for driving,” I tell her. “I don’t think my head is very clear right now.”

As we haven’t spoken all week, I half-expect her to say something terse. “How can you possibly be thinking clearly?” she wants to know.

“This is just so crazy.”

She starts the car and pulls out on the street. “It’s beyond crazy. Do you want burgers or tacos?” she asks.

“Tacos,” Sammy answers from the back seat.

Melissa turns into a Taco Hut and pulls up to the drive-through. After we get our order, she parks long enough to hand everything out. She doesn’t have anything for herself. “Where’s yours?” I ask.

“I can’t drive while I eat, so I’ll grab something later.” I’m about to tell her not to be ridiculous and to eat now, when I remember the reason we’re in such a hurry to get to Chicago.

“You’re a great friend, Melissa,” I tell her.

“I’m pretty sure you’d do the same for me.”

“I would definitely do the same for you,” I assure her.

“Good.” She motions to my bag. “Eat up.”

It takes another hour to get to the hospital and find a parking space. I consider it good news that Karl hasn’t called again. Although, if the worst happened, what would be the point of telling us before we got there?

We hurry through the corridors of the hospital, following the directions posted on the walls. There are only two people in the surgical waiting room when we get there.

The tall man turns and stares right at Sammy. A look of shock crosses his face before he looks at me. He stretches out his hand. “I’m Karl.”

If this were any other situation, I don’t think I’d bother to shake hands with him. Totally petty, yes, but this guy married the woman I was supposed to marry. As a result, she’s raising his kid, not ours. “Jamie,” I finally say.

He indicates the boy with him, who appears to be more of a man. I’m guessing he’s a junior or senior in high school. “This is my son, Fritz.”

Fritz flushes a deep red before nodding his head at us. “Hello.”

I motion to Sammy. “This is my daughter, Sammy.” Then I pull Melissa over and add, “This is our good friend Melissa.”

After all the pleasantries are performed, Karl tells us, “I just saw Beth in post-op. She’ll be taken to her room shortly. We can meet her up there.”

We follow Karl and Fritz through the hospital like some kind of weird parade. We don’t know these people, and yet we’re sharing a key life moment with them. It’s surreal, to say the least.

When we finally reach Beth’s room, the nurse tells us that no more than two people can go in at a time. Karl motions toward Sammy and me. “This is her daughter. She should go in with her father.”

“Are you sure?” I ask him. This is not at all the way I envisioned seeing Beth again.

“You’re why we’re here in Chicago,” he says. “It’s time to make things right.”

I don’t know what Beth has told her husband about us, but it’s clear he knows enough to gather that we’ve been wronged. I touch Sammy’s shoulder and lead her into Beth’s room. She moves on automatic pilot.

Once we’re inside, the nurse asks, “Can I bring you anything while you wait?” We shake our heads in unison, so she says, “She should be up any time now. It looks like surgery went well.”

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