Discarding my coffee in the nearest trash can, we follow him down the hall. Emotion clogs my throat when I see her. She’s out of it, looking half dazed and completely unlike herself. Brandon pulls a chair up next to the bed for me. I sit down and take her hand in mine. Her long, manicured fingers fold over mine, squeezing down with the faintest of pressure.
That gentle, reassuring gesture does me in.
The pressure building behind my eyes is too much to bear, and I succumb to the tears. Once the floodgates let loose, I let out wet, ugly, loud sobs, wiping the snot away as I bow my head over our clasped hands. “Grandma. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” she rasps. “I’m so sorry.”
I lift my head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” She wouldn’t even be living at home if not for me. Maybe sheshouldhave taken that assisted living apartment that became available recently, like Dad suggested. But we’ve both been stubborn, living in la-la land together, our heads buried in the sand.
Now, her life might never be the same. And it really is all my fault.
“Ma’am?” the nurse prompts. Brandon rests his hands on my shoulders. “We’re ready for her.” Some more words are exchanged, and then Brandon guides me back down the hall, where we wait with Jamie in a drab, drafty waiting area while Dad and Francine make their way to the hospital.
Brandon doesn’t let go of me the entire time we’re waiting, and it’s nice. But unnecessary. He probably thinks I’m one loose screw away from totally losing it. Maybe I am. Who knows. I guess if anybody would, it would be him.
When my parents finally arrive, I wander down the hall as Jamie catches them up to speed. It figures they’d come rushing to the hospital in the freezing rain for Grandma, but they won’t brave a little bit of snow to visit me in the ER after a near-fatal car accident. Par for the course.
Brandon appears before me, lifting my chin with his finger. “Don’t argue with him,” he instructs. “No matter how much you want to.”
“Wha—?”
“Evie.” Dad’s voice is deep and calm, and it’s right behind me.
Frowning, I face him. “What?” I just know he’s going to blame me for this, but I already know it’s my fault. He doesn’t need to rub salt in the wound.
But he will.
“Go home. We’re going to wait here until Grandma’s done with surgery. Presumably, they’ll discharge her at some point in the next several days, and then she’ll come home with us.”
Normally, I would argue with him. I would tell him that Grandma should decide her own fate—not have her future dictated to her by someone else. But I don’t have it in me right now.
Besides, we all know that’s what’s for the best.
“Okay.”
Dad looks surprised by my amenability. “Okay then.” He hesitates before adding, “And you’ll move in with us, too, I’m assuming.”
My eyes bulge. “Um—”
“Just until you’re back on your feet,” he interjects decisively, nodding to himself like it’s a done deal. He turns to my brother, as if he thinks this conversation is over.
It is not.
“I am not living with you.”
Dad sighs and turns back to me. “You’ll want to do Grandma’s physical therapy, right?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then it makes the most sense that you live with us, too. Now go home, Genevieve.”
Miffed, I gawk at my father. The audacity—
“Come on,” Brandon says, looping his arm through mine. “You’re tired.”
“Um, hold on.” I dig my heels in, but he drags me away against my will.
This conversation is far from over.
