“Hi, I’m with Mr. Fletcher, Noah’s father. Noah was brought in thirty minutes ago with a head wound, and I just wondered if there was an update?” I ask as politely as I can, knowing nurses are overworked and understaffed.
“Oh, let me check.” She shoots me a smile, her eyes going toMackie and Noah’s father before she turns to her computer and types. Within seconds, her smile drops, and she looks from me to the screen before forcing another smile, but it’s tight and not real. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Standing, she hurries to the phone. I try to listen, but at this distance, there isn’t much I can hear.
A couple minutes later, she returns.
“Okay, I can’t say much, but he had to go for more tests. We are just waiting for the specialist.”
“The specialist? Why?” I ask.
Is it that bad?
“I can’t say. I’m sorry. He should be able to have visitors very soon. Mrs. Fletcher is in recovery. She will be okay. We are keeping an eye on her, but she will be fine after getting some fluids. It was just shock. Take a seat, and I’ll make sure the doctor comes out shortly.”
Nodding, I head back to Mackie and Noah’s father and crouch before them. “He’s still being seen. There isn’t any news yet. Your wife is okay. She’s being kept for observation right now, but they aren’t worried.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, tightening his hold on Mackie. “I was going to ask, but I?—”
“It’s okay. In times like these, you need help. It’s understandable.” I wipe Mackie’s cheeks and smile. “He’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” he whispers.
“Noah? Have you met him? There’s nothing in this world that could stop him from coming to you, so stop crying or he’ll only nag when he sees you.”
Mackie smiles sadly, and I stand and look around, finding what I need. I grab two coffees and bring them back.
“Drink,” I order them. “The heat and sugar will help with the shakiness and shock.”
“You’re good at this,” Noah’s father murmurs.
“I was in your shoes once,” I admit. “I just sat in the waiting room numbly for hours, holding a cold cup of coffee, wishing I had someone with me to tell me what to do.”
His father nods, looking down at the coffee. “I wish there weresomething I could do. All the money I have, the connections, they mean nothing right now. I can’t make this better for him.”
“But you’re here,” I say. “That’s what he needs right now. Have the police spoken to you?”
“Not yet. They were taking statements at the party and looking at footage. They said they would find us later, once Noah was awake and could talk,” Mackie explains, his voice shaky.
“Drink now, baby,” I order before I blow on it. “Please, okay?”
He nods and takes a sip, and I sit on the floor, not wanting to be farther away from him. We lapse into silence, all of us waiting for news on Noah.
I have a horrible feeling in my gut, though, that won’t go away.
The update comes two hours later. A doctor calls out Noah’s full name, and we swiftly stand. He walks our way, looking between us. “Mr. Fletcher?” he asks, and Noah’s father nods. “And you are?”
“Mackie,” he says, clutching my hand. “Is Noah okay?”
“Are you family?” the doctor asks Mackie.
Mackie hesitates, but Noah’s father steps closer. “He is. He’s family. How is my son?”
“And you are?” He looks at me.
“Also family,” Noah’s dad snaps. “Please, how is my son?”
“He’s stable and awake. He has a severe concussion and laceration to his head. We want him here for at least two days so we can monitor him. We are still waiting to hear back from the specialist, but in the meantime, you can see him. I’m afraid only two visitors are allowed though.”
“Son, I own this wing of the hospital. I will damn well take as many visitors as I want to see my son with how much money I’ve given. Now show me the way.” Noah’s father says it politely but with no room for argument, and it’s clear the doctor knew that was coming. He sighs as he leads us into the back. We head up a couple of floors tothe VIP wing, and yes, I see Noah’s last name on it, which shocks me, but I guess it shouldn’t.
