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I gasp for air, shocked at the number I’m reading in front of me. Surely, I’m reading it wrong. Hazel couldn’t have had this kind of money just sitting around, could she? After I scan over the check and the letter once more, I realize that I’m not just seeing things. Hazel blessed me even more than I had ever expected. I make a note to ask my mother about this after I get to their house. Did she even know that Hazel had this kind of money? If she did, why hadn’t she told me? What a whirlwind of a day this has turned out to be.
As I pull out of the driveway, I decide to run by the bank first. The last thing I need is to lose this check. Thankfully, I’ve been able to use the same bank since I was sixteen, thanks to there being a branch in the city not far from my old house. I pull up to the drive-thru window. The teller, Chloe, a girl I went to high school with beams at me from behind the glass. “Tyler! I heard you were back in town. How are you?” She asks, as I place the signed check and a deposit slip into the drawer.
“I’m doing great. How are you?” I ask in return.
She pulls the check from the drawer and flips it over to read the amount. “Oh, yeah, looks like you are doing pretty good.” She jokes.
I frown. Chloe was one of the biggest gossips when we were in school. I can only imagine that she didn’t outgrow that. The news about my deposit will surely be all over town by the end of the day.
“Yeah.” I answer dryly. “It’s from my dead grandma, so I wouldn’t say I’m that excited about it.”
The color drains from her face. “Oh. My gosh. I am so sorry. I’ll be right back.” She says, before taking the check and disappearing around the corner.
For a second, I feel bad about being rude to her, but then I remember when she told everyone that I had a crush on Kevin Peterson in the third grade. It was so embarrassing and I would have changed schools if I could have without moving to another town. I’m not saying I typically hold grudges, but, okay, maybe I do.
Sure, getting this inheritance from Hazel is incredible. Between that and her house, I could really do anything I want in life. But I’d still rather have her here instead. It’s crazy how the grief seems to come in waves. One moment, I’m fine, and the next my heart is yearning for the days when she was here. All I can do is hope that it’ll get easier in time, but I have a feeling it won’t.
When I leave the bank, I drive to my parents’ house, reeling from the events of this morning. Per usual, I need something to distract myself with. Gathering things for the yard sale will work just fine, and I plan to spend all day pricing and organizing merchandise between customers at my day job.
Much to my surprise, when I get home I find mom’s car missing. Dad’s truck is sitting in the driveway, though. I knock on the door and when it goes unanswered; I open the unlocked door and stick my head inside. “Dad? Mom? Anyone here?” I yell.
I’m met with no answer. Weird. If they were both gone in Mom’s car, the door should be locked. Actually, the door is normally locked all the time, anyway. I think they are on the few people in Fawn Creek that lock their door during the day.
I step inside and walk through the house quietly. Dad’s full coffee cup is still on the kitchen counter, and at the risk of sounding like Goldilocks, it’s still warm.
I quietly step through the kitchen to the laundry room and then out to the garage when I find him. I almost missed seeing him, but I hear a gasp and it catches my attention.
“Hello? Dad?” I ask, carefully creeping around his project truck, parked in the middle of the two-car garage. That’s when I find him on the other side of the truck, laying on the ground. The panicked look in his eyes and the limp state of his body cause my heart to pick up speed.
“Dad! Are you okay?” I ask, rushing to his side. He’s breathing, and he’s conscious, which is good news, but he’s clutching his chest and can’t respond. My eyes search his and I try everything within me to keep him calm. “I’m going to call 911, okay?”
His eyes almost look as though he’s begging me for help. I sit down on the floor, gripping his hand while I dial the number.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.
I have to steady my breathing to respond to her. “I think my dad is having a heart attack.” I tell her, my voice shaking. Anxiously, I look again at my father while I grip his hand. All my life he has been the strong one. He has been the one that can fix anything and handle any problem, the one I can turn to no matter what. But today, it’s up to me to be there for him and I am scared to death.
“We will get help there immediately. What’s your address?” She asks.
I rattle off their address, dad’s name, his age and the fact that he is conscious to the dispatcher.
While we wait, I can’t do much else other than try to keep him calm. His skin, which always looks like he’s fresh off the beach with a tan, has a paleness that I’ve never seen before. He looks as terrified as I feel. His body looks broken and all I want to do is cry out, but I resist, knowing I need to keep him calm.
Within minutes, I hear sirens approaching, and I open the garage door for the EMTs. My entire body is shaking and I’m having trouble deciding what to do next. I’ve never been great at handling stressful situations, and mostly I feel like I black out for the entire event.
As soon as they get dad on the stretcher and into the ambulance, I call my mom. She’s at the salon getting her hair done and I have to try twice to get her on the phone. I quickly tell her what is going on while I follow the ambulance out of our neighborhood. The entire drive to the hospital, I only have one thought. I’ve already lost Hazel. Please, don’t let me lose my dad, too. Without him, I really may fall apart.
Who knew this day would take a turn so damn fast?
* * *
I’m sitting in a chair in the waiting room, scrolling through my Facebook feed in an attempt to occupy my mind when my mother enters the room. Her hair is still wet and from the look of her red blotchy face, she cried all the way here. Owen, the neighboring town where the hospital is located, is about half an hour away from Fawn Creek.
“Any news?” She quickly approaches me., while looking anxiously around the waiting room.
I shake my head and pull her in for a hug. “Nothing yet.” I say, trying to fight back the tears. “Mom, I’m so scared.” I whisper. “Seeing Dad like that, that was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” The tears are flowing freely now, with no sign of stopping.
Mom raises her hand to my cheek and brushes a tear away. “I know, baby. I am too.” She grips both of my hands with hers. “But he’s going to be okay, you hear me? We are going to be strong and we are going to have faith that our time with him is far from over.”
