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I press the phone to my ear as I push strands of hair away from my face. I glance around the living room to see if there’s anything lying around that I can use to tie my hair.
“Hello.” Sounding groggy, I clear my throat.
“Leigh, it’s Dad.”
“Hey, Dad. I was going to call you tomorrow.”
I rub my eyes and suppress a yawn. Who knew doing nothing all day long could be so tiring.
“You have to come home, sweetheart.”
Relief washes over me. Thank God for answered prayers. Now I just have to convince them to allow me to sit in on their surgeries. They shouldn’t have a problem with it, seeing as I’ll be in the gallery.
“That’s why I was going to call. I’m bored out of my mind. Do you think I can sit in on your surgeries as an observer? I promise I won’t get in the way.”
A shuddering breath from Dad fills my ears. He must’ve had a long day.
“Dad? Is everything okay?”
“Sweetheart… it’s your mom. She had an accident.”
I dart up from the couch as my hand flies to my mouth in shock. Worry for Mom pours through my body and settles like a rock in the pit of my stomach.
“Is she okay? What kind of accident? How bad are her injuries? Was she taken to a hospital?” I look at the time and see that it’s already past nine pm. “I can try to get a flight out tonight still.”
“Leigh, I want you to listen to me. I’ll book a flight for you for first thing in the morning. Stay with Willow until I collect you from the apartment.”
“I don’t mind coming home tonight. I want to be there for Mom.”
“She didn’t make it, sweetheart,” he rasps as his breaths falter.
I frown, and the words don’t sink in. For the first time in my life, I can’t get my mind to understand what he’s trying to say.
“What do you mean? She didn’t make it to the hospital yet? Are they still on route?”
Icy fingers claw their way into my chest and grip my heart as the seconds slowly creep by. My worry morphs into panic and fear when Dad takes too long to respond.
“Leigh, she didn’t…” His words trail away as a sob bursts from him.
I close my eyes as a cold sensation spreads over my body until it feels as if my whole body has been submerged in ice. Pins and needles creep over my skull as the realization slams into my gut.
“Say it, Dad,” I croak.
My throat closes up, and I gasp like a fish as I try to force air into my lungs.
“You have to say it. You told me it’s the first thing they taught you. You have to say the words.?
??
A grief-stricken sound fills my ear, and it robs me of the precious air in my lungs. My chest tightens as if my ribs are trying to form a cocoon of safety around my heart, to protect it from the fateful blow that’s coming.
“Your mom’s dead, Leigh,” he brokenly forces the words out.
I close my eyes as I listen to Dad’s anguished cries.
My eyes remain dry as the inevitability of what Dad just told me engulfs my mind. The shock is still too fresh. It hasn’t hit me fully yet.
Shock and denial. Pain and guilt. Anger and bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
