Gus. He’s the most stoic, dependable guy I’ve ever met.
And he’s crying over his sister being in the hospital.
And it’s…okay?
Emy’s encouraging it.
I sit down. My leg shakes. I need a distraction.
I peruse the magazines littered on the table next to me.
Veronica’s face engulfs the cover ofHappening, a celebrity gossip magazine with the headline:Veronica Burke on What She Learned Dating Jack Parker: Why she ignored the red flags and got her heart broken by a f***boy.
And…looking at magazines is not going to help. Noted.
Emy and Gus chose two seats not too far away.
I glance briefly, catching the tears rimming Gus’s eyes. He meets my stare, and a scowl grows in place of his worry.
With a nod, I accept his ire. I should have told him. I shouldn’t have holed up in Aulie’s room with her for a day and paid better attention to her this morning. One day with me, and she’s already in the hospital. How must that look to him?
After about thirty minutes of nothing, a nurse comes out from behind the swinging doors and approaches us. “So, it’s not appendicitis. The doctor is ordering an ultrasound, but there’s room for someone in there with her.” She looks directly at me, but I’m not the one who should go join her.
I glance at Gus and Emy. Gus nudges Emy with his knee. “You should go. You know how to comfort her.”
Emy nods, whispering something in Gus’s ear and pressing a kiss before bending down to say something to me. “He’s not good at verbalizing stuff, but he hates hospitals, too. He needs his best friend, okay?”
“Got it.” I swallow. She’s right. I’m sitting here a wreck because I’ve already lost one person who meant something to me. Gus has lost fifteen in five years. I can’t fathom what that’s done to him.
I need to be a good friend even if I get my ass handed to me.
“Keep us updated. Okay?” I say before standing and taking Emy’s vacated seat next to Gus.
He doesn’t look up, but he also doesn’t growl, so I will take the win.
“She’s going to be okay,” I say—as much to reassure myself and Gus.
Gus groans, leaning back in his chair. “This place sucks ass.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“I should get a punch card or something with the number of visits I’ve made to it in the past few years.”
“I don’t know how you guys handled it.”
“Not well.” He chuckles, swiping at some tears. “Shit, I thought I had this under control.”
A nervous energy hums through me while Gus lets a few more fall. I hate that’s my reaction to his emotions, but isn’t there a manual we got as children about not crying as New Englanders?
“Do you remember when we had to bring Grady in for stitches?” I ask, deflecting to a funny story because that’s my only strategy for navigating this situation.
“Which time?”
“The time he tried to smash the glass beer bottle on his head.”
“Is that what he did? I walked in on the scene late, and he had glass shards sticking out of his forehead.”
“Yup.” I laugh, recalling the situation. Gus walked out of his room right after it happened. With a sigh, he got Grady in the car with a towel held to his head, and we did laps around the hospital in the bitter cold while I sobered up, preferring that to going inside. That night, Gus had been happy to accompany me in silence. He never acknowledged my issues with hospitals or brought up my dad.
