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The familiar sound of tyres rolling over the pebble-stone driveway crunches loudly. The sound I used to cherish when I was a child scrapes against my heart like a rusty nail now, as we stand like poignant statues and watch them drive away.
‘Thank you, Marcy,’ my father says softly, breaking the silence. He and Marcy stand side by side on the front porch. ‘You’ve been wonderful. We’re very grateful.’
Marcy turns and shakes my father’s hand. Her grip lingers long enough to let him know that her fondness for my grandmother goes past being professional. They’ve become friends.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she whispers.
‘Of course,’ my father says as they part. ‘Of course.’
The wobbly porch step groans as Marcy steps down. She ignores the hazard and turns to catch my eye. She’s smiling, but her body language is unsure and sad and contradicts her attempts to seem cheery. ‘Take care of yourself, Holly, won’t you?’
I swallow. I can’t manage words, but I can just about manage a nod as she gets into her car. My heart is so heavy it seems to weigh down my whole body. Marcy is saying goodbye, I realise. She doesn’t think Nana will be coming home again.
‘Hols, love, get yourself back to bed,’ my father says; his eyes are on the back of Marcy’s blue hatchback as the wheels toss up some loose pebbles from the driveway as she leaves. ‘It’s very early.’ He shakes his head. ‘Get some more rest if you can.’
He closes the front door with a gentle click, and sighs. His sad eyes are hard to watch as he struggles to be the brave, composed head of the family.
‘Can’t sleep,’ I protest, rubbing my bloodshot eyes.
‘I’m going to get dressed and follow your mam and nana to the hospital,’ my father explains. ‘I’ll call you if there’s any news. Seriously, Holly, you look exhausted. Your mother worries about you. Go back to bed.’
‘C’mon, Hols.’ Nate tightens his arm over my shoulder and turns me away from the door. ‘Your dad’s right. You need some sleep.’
My bare feet shuffle along the floor tiles, numb to the cold. I turn on the bedroom light and make my way to the pile of duvet and blankets on the floor that definitely no longer feel like a bed or anywhere I want to lie down or rest. As I stand next to the spot, I’m disgusted that I slept there at all and not upstairs in the chair next to my grandmother. My head flops forward, weary and too heavy for my neck to support. My father is right; I am tired. So tired. But I don’t want to close my eyes. I might fall asleep, and I’m terrified of what the world will look like when I wake up again.
‘Coffee?’ Nate asks, and I spin around to find him getting dressed with one leg in and one leg out of his jeans.
‘Coffee,’ I nod.
I pull on a pair of slightly too big yoga pants that my mother lent me and hurry into the kitchen. Within minutes, I can hear my father race down the stairs, and I catch him just as he reaches the front door.
‘Dad,’ I call out.
He turns around and flashes a gummy smile my way when he notices the flask in my hands.
‘Nate thought you could use some coffee for the road,’ I say, walking over to pass him the silver thermal flask. ‘Be careful,’ I warn. ‘The handle is a little wonky.’
My father takes the coffee gratefully and wraps his free hand around my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest for a hug. ‘You’re a good kid, Hols. I love you.’
He lets go, and I stand straight and try to smile.
‘Try not to worry, okay?’ my father mumbles, knowing full well that’s an impossibility. ‘I’ll call you. I promise.’
He dashes out the front door, the engine of his car purrs quickly to life and he drives away.
I close the door and drag myself back towards the kitchen. The house is quiet with no sound other than the low hum of the pipes in the hall. My feet are like solid concrete blocks that protest moving. Nate meets me at the kitchen door. He has a cup of coffee in each hand, and his car keys dangle from his baby finger.
‘There are no more flasks,’ he explains. ‘So, we’ll have to drink these before we go.’
‘Go?’
‘We’ll take my car, yeah?’ Nate says.
‘To the hospital?’ I ask, wrapping my hands around the warm cup Nate offers me. ‘Really? You don’t mind driving? It’s the middle of the night.’
‘Well, I can’t say I’d be up for it every night,’ Nate jokes softly, and I allow myself to smile. ‘But I know you won’t go back to sleep, and you’ll only sit up worrying. You might as well worry at the hospital.’
‘Thanks, Nate. I just want to be there, you know. I feel so helpless here.’
