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“It should have been me,” I admit, looking down at the floor. “Hell, it should have been nobody. If I’d just stayed at home, none of this would have happened.”
He shakes his head.
“Hey, don’t say that.” He stares deeply into my eyes, and for the first time, I feel that I’ve truly gained a brother.
“Especially because I know why you were out there.”
“You do?”
He smiles. “Liza told me you stopped by and were preparing something special for him.”
“So much for that. The filet mignon is in a bag by the entrance somewhere, I’m sure, rotting.”
A doctor enters the waiting area through the double doors, and he comes over to me and Ishmael.
I can barely focus, but to know about Cedrick, I force myself. He says it’s embedded deep, and that there’s still a high risk for complications.
I wonder how long the operation could possibly take. I mean, some surgeries can take more than a day if they’re really complicated. I lose track of time, as I start to pace the waiting room. I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m crazy. Everyone probably seems crazy in a hospital waiting room.
The minutes turn into hours.
Another doctor steps back out. He’s wearing a sorrowful expression, but I realize he’s walking over to another family.
I look down at the floor, and I count the tiles.
The doctor approaches us, his expression unchanged. Oh God. Here it comes.
I prepare myself for my life to change forever.
“The operation was a success.” Thank God. “And Cedrick’s in recovery now.”
Ishmael stands up, and other members of the family, in various stages of exhaustion, get up as well to hear.
“Oh, God. Thank you doc. That’s such a relief.”
The doctor pulls away.
“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor adds, looking at me. “This is all an ongoing process, which is why we were slow to let you know.”
“Can we see him?”
I look up at the doctor, desperate just to look upon Cedrick’s face one more time.
He nods.
“You’ll need to be gentle, of course. But we’ve moved him to room 235. It’s the royal suite, donated by King Francis.” The King nods his head in acknowledgment.
We walk through the hospital corridors and up a flight of stairs, until we arrive at his room. I can hear the beep of the monitors through the door. I push open the doors, followed by a long chain of family members.
Seeing him lying in bed, the life utterly drained from him, is such an eerie sight.
My brother’s gonna be fine, just you watch. Ishmael’s words replay in my mind. I try to let myself think he’s only sleeping as I approach.
“Never thought I’d be treating Cedrick today,” the nurse says out loud, while she adjusts the IV tube. “It’s kind of surreal.”
The nurse has to bring out several chairs to accommodate us all but is gracious nonetheless. For several hours, we sit beside the bed, watching his chest move up and down with every labored breath.
Isha clings to her coloring book, while I cling to Liza and Ishmael.
