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“Yeah,” she grabbed the bags—a little unsteadily, but it would have to do. “How did you cut yourself?”
“Your mom’s sculpture.”
She began to giggle, softly at first, then louder as we came out into the garage, her voice echoing in the empty space as I closed the door.
“Wow,” she said as she shook her head, her dark hair shining beneath the bright light of the garage’s security light. “Mom’s gonna love that. You almost got killed by her art.”
I didn’t know what to say in response. As we reached the car, all thoughts but getting Juan to the hospital as quickly as possible fled my mind. The pain in his face sent a wave of empathy through me as I bundled the kids into the car and made sure everyone was strapped in. I went onto this weird autopilot, at once hyper focused on my task and yet kind of…floaty. I made sure everyone was good in the backseat, ignored Juan’s question about what happened to my neck, and pretended I didn’t hear the girls whispering about how scared they were. I had a mission—get to the hospital—and that was what I focused on. Once I got to the hospital, everything would be okay. Thankfully, Madison had already programed in the directions while I was inside, so I just had to follow the minivan’s soothing female computerized voice’s commands.
Once I got to the hospital, I could have my meltdown. Once I got to the hospital, I could go find a bathroom to cry. Once I got to the hospital, I could finally allow myself to feel all these emotions I currently held back. Juan wasn’t talking, either. Instead, he held his arm and said nothing, but his body language and the occasional low groan made it clear he was in a great deal of pain. His color wasn’t good—he’d gone a cheesy yellow—and I wondered what I would do if he passed out again. I wished with all my might that I could get us there faster, but I wasn’t going to drive like an asshole in traffic with kids in the car.
During the drive, one of the girls’ phones rang in the backseat, and I heard Madison say, “Hi Uncle Tyler. Um, we’re okay…Why isn’t Nora answering the phone? Um, because she’s driving us to the hospital.”
I could hear his roar through the phone and yelled back, “Tell him we’re about ten minutes away, and that I need him to stop distracting me so we can get there in one piece. Tell him everyone’s okay, your dad just has a mild injury that needs medical attention.”
My voice was brittle and shook as I said it, but I counted the fact that I could speak at all as a win. I was jittery with stress induced adrenaline and Juan’s little panting sounds of agony were getting to me. I remembered making those sounds—those small, awful noises that were your only outlet for the misery inside of you. A flashback tried to take me, but I ruthlessly shoved it away, glancing at the kids in the rearview mirror and getting all the strength I needed. I’ve never considered myself very maternal, but in that moment, I would have killed to keep those kids happy and safe. Determination filled me, and I gripped the steering wheel tight as I pulled around a slow-moving car.
Madison said a few more things to Tyler, but I tuned them out, spotting the big hospital glowing bright in the distance. Tears made my vision blurry, but I brushed them away. I gripped the steering wheel of the minivan, waiting for the light to change so I could turn into the long palm tree-lined street leading to the hospital.
When I pulled up to the little guard shack, the old man inside took one look at me and directed me to the ER. As I pulled into the circular lot leading to the ER entrance, I saw Tyler standing outside, his phone to his ear as he waved us down. His golden hair shone in the overhead lights and, when he saw me pulling up, his anxious expression filled with relief. My lower lip and chin were trembling by the time I put the minivan into park, and I had to fight the need to run into his arms. Besides, the girls were already doing that. The doors of the minivan slammed open and they each flew at him. Ducking down and holding his arms wide, he easily caught held them close, so big and protective that my heart just about leapt out of my chest and handed itself to him.
Seeing that the girls were safe, I focused on Juan. “Ready to get out of here and get some good drugs?”
“Hell yes,” he gritted out. “Gimme the good stuff.”
“I’ll make sure they hook you up.”
