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“Boo is receiving oxygen to help him breathe andepinephrine to reduce the body's allergic response,” Padua said softly. “Right now we are giving him antihistamines and cortisone through an IV to reduce inflammation of the air passages and also to aid in his breathing. He’s hooked up to a couple of monitors so we can keep a close eye on his vitals. The next couple of hours or so will be telling.”
“Telling? What do you mean telling?” I frowned and let out a shuddered breath that had my body quaking and made my throat dry as a dust bowl. “Is Boo…I mean is there a chance that Boo could…”
“Jesus, Liddy!” Truly gasped out and put a hand over both her ears.
“I know. I know. I’m just scared.” I said and felt a tear run down my cheek.
“Don’t cry. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.” Truly reached out for a quick tight hug. Then she turned to Padua again.
“How’s Melody holding up?” Truly asked and I cringed because if we were jumping out of our skins, I couldn’t imagine how Melody was doing.
“She’s strong, and fierce…a warrior mommy.” Padua hesitated at the doorway before she closed it tight behind her.
For the next few hours, every time that damn door opened the two of us jumped a mile high. Eventually, another grim, anxious, scared out of their freakin’ minds family entered the room. Two grandparents and a couple in their mid-thirties joined us in the painful wait. Aria and Chance Taylor were the parents of Betsy Taylor, an eight-year-old girl who had suffered severe injuries as a result of a hit-and-run accident. Trenton and Barb were Betsy’s grandparents. About an hour and a half in, Trenton announced to no one in particular that he was going out for a smoke and a coffee run. Truly, who had bitten her nails down to waning moons and had spent the last twenty minutes doing sit-ups on the floor, jumped at the chance to go with him. They were back in about a half-hour cloaked in the scent of fresh tobacco and carrying in hand a whole box of hot coffee, fresh muffins, and wrapped sandwiches.
An hour later a doctor came in and we all jumped up from our seats. He notified the Taylors that Betsy was being airlifted to another hospital for treatment. The prognosis was hopeful, and we were all grateful. But, when the Taylors left the room felt so empty. It was like we had lost part of our family. Funny how tragedy can bring strangers together.
Truly who had drunk at least a half dozen ten-ounce coffees (extra strong) in the past hour went out to the bathroom. When she came in her mouth was drawn in a hard line, and her eyes were narrowed to angry slits.
“They’re still here.” She frowned and hissed.
“Who?” My mind was still thinking about strangers and families and tragedy.
“The Sinners.”
“What do you mean they’re still here? You meanherehere? Like, in the hospital, here?” I stammered out the words while my brain tried to process.
“Yeah, in that outside waiting room near the bathrooms.”
“Fuckers.” I narrowed my eyes too. “I told Deke to get lost.”
“Yeah. Like where the hell was he when we were pounding on that door and crashing through those bikes?”
“My thoughts exactly.” I agreed. If Deke and his fools wanted to know why we went through those bikes, they got their answer the minute that they opened that truck door.
The longer the wait, the more we feared the worst. The sun had set and risen again and still no word. Padua’s shift had been over hours ago, and still, we sat. When the door opened, we both jumped from where we were sleeping on the chairs to find Melody standing in the doorway. But the Melody who walked into that waiting room was not the Melody that I expected to see. I expected to see a slumped-over, swollen-eyed, nails bitten to the quick, runny mascara Melody, and she was all of that and more. But what I did not expect to see was the dull look in her eyes or the way she seemed to take too long to focus on us.
“Boo’s okay. He has to stay here a little longer but he’s going to be fine. They gave him something to help his little body rest, and they are getting ready to move him to the general pediatric ward.” Melody said this with absolutely no tonal inflection. I could not hear relief, sadness, worry, or optimism in her voice. Everything about her seemed wooden and emotionless. I wondered if she was in shock. When we went in for a group hug, Melody took a step back.
“I’m hanging on by a goddamn thread here. If you touch me, I’m gonna fall apart.”
“Then we won’t touch you, honey. But, how about a nice hot cup of fresh coffee?” Truly offered gently.
“No, thanks. But I could sure as hell use a shot. Have you got the whisky with you?”
In answer, Truly dug around in her bottomless hobo bag and pulled out a slim, silver flask.
Melody took a long bracing gulp before she passed it to me. When I passed it back to Truly I raised my eyebrow in accusation. Because we certainly could have used it a few hours earlier.
“If I pulled it out before it’d be empty by now, there would be nothing left for Melody and we’d be flat out on our asses.”
I couldn’t argue with her logic.
“I want you two to go home and get some rest. You almost look as bad as I do.” She pulled on a lock of my tangled hair that hadn’t seen a brush in almost forty-eight hours.
“Why don’t you walk us out? Get some fresh air and clear your head a little, honey?”
Melody bit down on her lip and threw a guilty look over her shoulder.
