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That I can be happy again.
Chapter 21
Mason
The hospital is as familiar as the home I grew up in. I don’t know where I’ve spent more time. A strong case can be made for the hospital—I hate that my mom is always so sick she can’t just be in her own space without the risk of something going wrong.
Hopefully, they’ll find lungs for her soon, and then all this will be over. I just want her to be able to live a life that doesn’t involve waiting for the other shoe to drop.
When I arrive, Mom’s still sedated. She looks like an alien with so many tubes coming out of her, and machines beep and whir as they breathe for her, and I can tell how hard my mom’s still fighting for her life.
I sit down on a chair close to her bed and take her hand. It’s warm, and her skin’s soft.
“We’re going to take care of you,” I say. “Soon, all this will be over and you can come home for good.”
Of course, she doesn’t answer me. I don’t know what else to say. Sometimes, I come here and talk to her about everything—my day, the restaurant, Natalie. Anything that will bring the sound of my voice to her because I know on some level, she can hear me and she knows I’m here.
But today, I don’t say anything. I just hold onto her. It’s been a tough week with her here, and I wish she would get better soon so that I can talk to her again. The sedation makes me feel like I’ve already lost her, and I might not get her back.
And if they don’t find lungs…
I push those thoughts away and swallow down the lump that rose in my throat. I can’t think that way. I’m holding on as long as I need to. As long as she’s here, there’s hope that she’ll pull through. I’m not letting go until they tell me I have to.
After sitting with her for almost an hour, I kiss her hand, reach for her hair to stroke it, and finally leave her room.
My dad arrives just as I walk out.
We meet each other in the hallway. Things area strained between us. My dad is on the precipice, so close to falling apart. He’s holding it together for my mom’s sake. He doesn’t want her to worry about him. Not in her state. She’s always worried about him more than herself.
“How is she doing?” he asks.
“Pretty much the same,” I admit. “How are you?”
“Pretty much the same,” he answers, feeding my words back to me.
“Do you want to get a cup of coffee at the cafeteria?” I ask.
My dad blinks at me, surprised. But I don’t break eye contact and I don’t retract my words. He’s my father, whether either of us likes it or not. And we’re in this together, no matter which way it goes.
He finally nods. “Sure, I can do that.”
We walk to the cafeteria in silence, order coffee, and sit down in one of the booths on the edge of the cafeteria. I add sugar and cream to my coffee. My dad does the same—in some ways, we’re very alike. But there are so many differences, it almost doesn’t matter how we’re the same.
My mom’s the one thing we both have in common, and it’s what keeps pulling us back together even though we can’t stand to be around each other.
“How are things with you?” Dad asks. He’s trying to make small talk. It’s nice of him to try.
“They’re good,” I say. “The restaurant is coming along. I think I’ll open soon.” I hesitate. “Hopefully, you and Mom can join me there. She’ll love it.”
Dad only grunts.
“I’m still trying to decide how to use the private beach that comes with the property.”
“A beach?” Dad asks.
I nod and try to explain the restaurant layout to him. He doesn’t sound like he cares or like he’s trying to envision it, but I keep talking. We’re trying for my mom’s sake here.
Finally, my dad scoffs. “It sounds like a big operation.”
