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She went to the bedside and picked up the plastic pitcher of water and poured it into a plastic cup with a straw. Mom held the straw to my mouth and I didn’t protest. I sucked the water greedily, quenching my parched throat.
I leaned back when I’d had enough. “Thanks.” My hand searched for the call button.
“What do you need, LoLo?” Dad asked.
“I’m calling the nurse,” I explained. “So she can help me to the bathroom.”
“I’ll help you,” Mom said. “You don’t need to call for the nurse.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted.
“I’ve changed your diapers, I can help you to the bathroom,” my mom said.
Her words hit me straight in the heart. She didn’t know that a throwaway comment about a baby could hurt me, and I hadn’t expected to feel the sharp pang of loss, either.
“Okay,” I wheezed.
I held out my hand and Mom gingerly helped me off the bed. I hobbled to the bathroom, hunched over like an old crone.
My dad’s softly spoken expletives echoed behind me.
He must’ve seen the bruises on my back from the split in my hospital gown.
Mom flipped on the garish bathroom light and closed the door behind us.
“I can hold my gown, but can you…” I gestured to my underwear.
“Sure can,” she said, gently easing them down my legs.
Once I was comfortable and settled back into bed, my parents looked at each other and my dad nodded.
“What’s the look for?” I asked in amusement.
“Look? What look?” Mom asked.
“You guys share looks. You can communicate without words.”
“Comes from years of marriage,” Dad said.
“Hmm. Yeah.”
“We spoke with a nice young man in the waiting area,” Mom said. “Tall, dark-haired, seems to wear a perpetual scowl.”
I frowned. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“He’s the president of the Tarnished Angels,” Dad said. “Colt, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh, yeah. Colt.” I had to hide a smile. I was sure the biker president would love to hear that my parents had called him a nice young man.
“Well, we talked to him about Smoke’s care. It seems Smoke lives at the clubhouse,” Mom said.
“Right,” I said in confusion at the direction of their conversation.
“And your apartment is on a second floor,” she went on. “Neither of you are in a position to be able to climb stairs for a while. So, your father and I…”
“We got two attached suites at the Donovan Hotel. Your mother and I will stay in one, and you and Smoke will stay in the other,” Dad said. “So we can be there if you need anything.”
I blinked, unsure of what to react to first. “Wait…You got Smoke and me a suite? Together?”
