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Mom pulls away. “What do you mean? We’ll be fine. We have been fine ever since your dad left us. Don’t worry about a thing. I will handle everything.”
“OK,” I answer. I know Mom is in charge, she always has been. I guess I meant what will I do without my dad? He was the one in charge of fun. He used to be the one who could make me laugh. Since Tishcame along, all he did was grow more and more distant. And now, he’s gone. A sob shakes me to the core as my mom holds me tight.
“Listen, honey, come with me. We need to make arrangements. Lance is waiting,” Mom says. “Doing something for your dad will help you feel better.”
“No, hugging Dad right now would make me feel better. I need a minute alone.” Mom nods and kisses the top of my head.
“We’ll always miss your dad, of course, but we will get through this together.”
We have already been missing my dad. Now, I guess we always will. I can’t stop the tears as they spill from my eyes. My phone lights up. Texts pour in from college and high school friends. My dad’s death is big news in Grandville and beyond. It’s crazy to think that tragedy gets more attention than good news. I mean, not one of my friends texted about the IPO. But I guess that’s true of people in general. They only see what they want to see, even when the truth is right in front of them.
I ignore all the texts, grab my teddy bear, and curl up in bed. My dad shouldn’t have left home. We were all happy once, just the three of us. It seems so long ago that he and I were allowed to be alone together, to laugh together.
I knew they weren’t happy together anymore. I saw it. He told me. But I never imagined this could happen, that he would die before he got away from her. Oh, Dad, why did you mess everything up?
Why did you have to leave me?
CHAPTER 16
TISH
Officer Taylor hands me a cup of coffee and tells me I don’t have to go to the morgue if I identify John’s body here, at the hospital. This place is bad enough. I can’t imagine what the morgue looks like. I glance up at the officer, standing next to me like a guard dog. He’s so kind and because he is, another round of tears springs to my eyes.
“They brought John’s body here from our condo. They know who he is. It’s already online everywhere. Tell them to google him.” I take a sip of coffee. It’s terrible.
“It’s just a formality, ma’am.” He stands up. His dark hair is slicked back and receding, creating deep V-shaped peaks on both sides. It works for him, I must say.
Focus, Tish.
“OK.” I follow him down the hall and into the last bed in the emergency department. He pulls the curtain back, and when I nod, he pulls down the top sheet.
I cover my mouth. I haven’t had to identify a dead body before, and I’d like to avoid it in the future. He looks terrible, his mouth frozen as if he’s trying to scream. I turn away.
“That’s him,” I say, and feel my knees buckle.
Officer Taylor rushes to my side, helping me back to a chair in the waiting room. “What happens next is the coroner will collect the body, take legal custody. He’ll want to talk to you, too. There will be an autopsy.”
“No,” I say. “Please. He wouldn’t want that. He was under a lot of stress. He had a bad heart. It was a ticking time bomb. We all knew it.”
“I understand. Nobody really wants a loved one opened up, not unless it’s foul play or something. You can tell him your feelings when he calls, but it’s Colorado law,” Officer Taylor says.
The ER doctor on call comes by to give her condolences, says John was dead on arrival and that she’s so sorry. I wonder briefly why an ER doctor is overweight. Isn’t that a health risk? Lead by example and all. She probably stress eats french fries or doughnuts, like John did. Poor John. I sign some forms she hands me.
“The coroner will be here any minute. His name is Dr.Welty. He’s quite good, very compassionate.” The ER doctor stands. She’s finished with me.
I watch a lot ofLaw & Order. I mean, who doesn’t? So I expected a pale, frail older man to play the part of the coroner. But no. This Dr.Welty is at least six feet, is tanned, and has perfect white teeth. Store bought. We shake hands.
“Mrs.Nelson. I’m terribly sorry to meet in this manner. Could we step into a conference room? I have a few questions,” he says.
Officer Taylor and I follow him down the hall and into a tiny all-white room. I feel like a criminal in this room, pinned in by a cop and a movie-star coroner. But I’m not a criminal, I’m the wife. A tear rolls down my cheek.
“Did your husband have a heart condition?” Dr.Welty asks, typing notes on his phone.
“Yes. High blood pressure. He was on medicine,” I answer. “Edira is the name.”
“Any other prescription drugs?” he asks. “Recreational?”
“No. John enjoyed a stiff drink now and again, nothing else. But he was under a lot of stress. Our company just went public. We celebrated last night,” I say.
