What if I never get another one of those moments again?
What if I never get to hear them bicker in the kitchen?
Or see them slow dance on Sundays to their wedding song?
What if the last words I ever said to them weren’t I love you, but I’m working late?
I slam the gear stick into reverse and back out of the lot. Drive, Olivia. Just drive.
Please be okay. Please, God, let them be okay.
No one prepares you for this. No one tells you what it’s like to sit in a hospital parking lot, knowing you might walk into a world where the worst possible news will be given to me.
Finally getting the courage to get out of the car, I push through the doors into the waiting room, barely registering the sterile scent which smacks me in the face. My feet feel like they’re barely touching the ground as I fly to the desk.
“My parents, surname Banks…they were just brought in. There was an accident.”
The woman behind the desk clicks her mouse, nods once. “They’re in surgery.”
My throat tightens. “Surgery? Are they okay? Please. Anything.” Why does my throat feel like it’s about to close up on me?
“I’m sorry. That’s all I can say right now. Someone will speak with you when they can.” She walks to the other side, as if she knows I’m not leaving the desk until I get more answers from her. The answer she gave me is shit and I’m not leaving until I get more. Waiting for a moment hoping she'll turn back to face me but nothing. No more answers, no comfort in telling me they’re okay, I turn and I leave the front desk.
I sink into the chair, stiff plastic against my back. My body starts to shake. I feel the tingle in my fingertips. I dig through my bag, for my phone remembering to send Lincoln a message, I could leave it, but I have a feeling he is someone you don’t ignore.
Olivia
I'm here. They’re in surgery. Still don’t know anything.
I press send, then lower my phone to my lap and stare at the floor. A minute passes. Then five. Then ten. Then an hour. Two hours.
I see a nurse coming out, and I quickly walk over to her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Banks, anything new?—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have information,” the nurse replies then quickly goes to walk away but I stop her.
“I just…if you could check?—”
“I’m not their doctor.” She walks away, and I stand there looking into the corridor hoping a doctor will come out any second now.
Two hours, and nothing, this can’t be good.
I pace the waiting room, wiping the tears which are coming non-stop. The longer I have to wait the more I’m thinking the worst.
Moving back and forth in the waiting room, it’s the only thing I can do, sitting down is worse than walking the same path in the waiting room. The lights flicker slightly above me. The buzzing hum of machines. The beep of monitors through the hallway. Maybe they're my parents' machines beeping in the distance, maybe they don't have machines beeping for them.
No one is telling me anything.
No one is saving me from this horrible nightmare.
Two hours, that’s how long I’ve been waiting for a fucking answer.
I think about the last thing I said to my mom. Something stupid. Something normal. I can’t even remember what it was. Did I tell her I loved her? God, I hope I said I love you to them both, I can’t have the last words I said to them be something stupid like, I’ll get some cereal on the way back home.
The room spins slightly, I feel my head going light on me, which could be from walking nonstop for two hours or not having any water because I’ve been crying since I got the news of the accident.
And then something shifts. A feeling, first. Like a shadow passes over my chest. A warning?
