“I think I’ve got this,” Emy whispers, sliding the clipboard out of my hand. “Poor guy is rattled, you know, Doris. She has been the object of his affection since he was a young boy, and it breaks his heart to see the love of his life in agony.” She places a palm on her hand like she’s swooning before meeting my eye with a spark of mischief.
Well, she has me pegged, huh?
I blush, letting my eyes roam around the room and try to find something to center myself on. A picture of a long-lost but not-forgotten rock formation snags my attention. The Old Man of the Mountain, a natural collection of rocks that vaguely resembled a man’s profile, was a huge tourist attraction in New Hampshire until it collapsed. Locals woke up one morning to see it’d fallen in the night. Aulie’s family crowded around the TV, watching in horror at the coverage, and her Memere even shed a tear.
Now, a monument stands at the base. It’s a collection of poles with little cutouts hanging off each bar. If you stand at a certain distance and squint, it looks like the Old Man is still there.
But it isn’t. It’s a hollow space and an homage to something thatwas.
Standing here now, I can’t help but feel that’s what happened to me when my dad passed. I just crumbled, and I’ve been that collection of pieces that resemble the original if you didn’t look too close ever since.
But after everything that’s happened the past two days, it felt like Aulie was building me back up, rock by rock—I was becoming the real thing again, not a recreation.
And now, she’s here, in a hospital bed, and just like my dad, something was wrong, and she didn’t tell me.
I feel a tug on my arm. “Thank you again, Doris. We appreciate you,” Emy says, moving me into the waiting room and out of earshot. “That woman has the bedside manner of a wet fart.”
“Thank you.” I huff, lowering myself into the chair and resting my forearms on the top of my legs. Now’s not the time to sulk about how the people I love don’t trust me enough to open up about what’s happening in their lives. When Aulie is safe and home, maybe I can try to work through that, but not now.
“I’m a little hurt that I missed the engagement, but you know I’ve always got your back, Parker.”
“The nurse wasn’t giving me anything, and I was desperate.”
“The words every woman wants associated with her happy day.”
I snort, and a fraction of the tension coiled inside relaxes. Since we were little, Emy’s never feared my grumpy natural disposition.
“Gus should be here soon,” she says, checking her phone. “I told him not to speed, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t listen.”
My stomach becomes a ball of nerves and anxiety. I was eager for Gus to get here initially, but now—well, I’ll have to face him, eventually, anyway, so I might as well get it over with. I stepped over a line, not telling him about Aulie and me, and now she’s in the hospital. That’s not exactly the track record I hoped to have during this discussion. “Is he…” I stumble, failing to find the right words.
“Pissed? Oh yeah, but he won’t make a show here. Give him time to get used to the idea, and he’ll be fine,” she says, an unspokenor elseimplied in her tone.
The automatic swinging doors to where they’re holding Aulie part, and a man in a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck, pushes his way through. Doris points at me, and I stand to greet him—a million thoughts still spiraling inside.
I force myself to focus, catching enough to gather that they’re going to run a few more tests, but that I was probably right—they think Aulie has appendicitis. She’s doing okay, awake and alert enough to agree to what she needs, which is good because otherwise, we’d have to wait for Gus to get here. The sooner she’s sedated, the better. Her pain level still isn’t under control, and it’s causing her blood pressure to spike too high.
“I’ll let you know more when we get out,” he says, placing a hand on my arm and returning the way he came.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I pace the room. Aulie will be okay. She has to be.
Fuck, I hate hospitals. You’d think given most people are here for stressful situations, they’d make the damn waiting room cozier, but the sterile walls, pleather chairs, and dim lighting somehow add to the discomfort.
With each passing second, anxiety tightens its grip on my chest.
Aulie is fine. Everything is fine.
The tension builds and builds until my heart rests compressed into an impossibly tiny box.
I don’t fight to release it.
The entrance to the emergency room slams open, and Gus storms in. He searches for Emy, not sparing me a second glance.
An act of mercy.
“She’s okay,” Emy whispers into Gus’s slumped figure. Her arms encircle him, rubbing his back as his head falls to her shoulder. For all the time I’ve spent watching him protect and enforce, Gus looks impossibly small in this moment. “She’s okay. You’re okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.”
They stand there together for a few minutes. Gus’s shoulders shudder, and I feel that burrowed in Emy’s shoulder he’s probably crying.
