“Knox…” Her unnaturally white teeth sink into that artificial lip.
“You should go. I need to see my grandmother. But thanks anyway.” As I turn, the doors on the nearest elevator split and Rand steps off. It might be a Sunday night, but, as always, he’s in professional attire that peeks from beneath a sophisticated wool coat. Absorbing the sight of me and my ex, his eyes flash.Yeah, me too, bro.I tip my head toward Becca. “Sorry, man, this wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know she was coming.” My family doesn’t need extra drama at a time like this.
“It’s not a problem.” His always-shaved cheek jerks and his hand comes out, bringing a cloud of his ubiquitous cologne with it. “Good to see you, bro. So…Knox…” His smile is as tight as the perfectly coiffed wave atop his head. He releases my grip and drops his hand to his side—where Becca weaves her fingers through it.
Time freezes. I dash my head to clear the vision that has to be an illusion brought about by fatigue on the heels of a marathon day.
What’s left of Rand’s expression resembles a grimace more than the original smile, but there’s pointed intent in his gaze. “So, bro, we’ve been meaning to talk to you…”
We?My stare splits between the pair. Still holding on to my brother’s hand, Becca lays her free palm on Rand’s arm, pressing into him.
One of my feet edges backwards.
“Becca and I started seeing each other this summer. I’ve been meaning to talk to you—”
The fragmented pieces of the reality before me finally congeal into a modicum of unwelcome sense. “Yeah? When?” I spit the words,
Rand’s Adam’s apple dips. “I thought when you came back for the holidays—”
“Merry Christmas to me? And Honey’s illness ruined the surprise?” Wonder what kind of bow they were planning to slap on that gift.
I pinch the top of my nose. The fiancée who chewed me up and spit me out…and my brother?
My gut churns like a nor’easter along the coast, whipping up a melee of nauseating emotions. By my side, my palms are itchy, fingers curling just shy of a fist.
My feet, making wiser decisions for me, inch another step of retreat.
Rand shoves his hands into the probably silk-lined pockets of his flashy coat. “Let’s talk, Knox.”
Not the time, not the place. Mentally, I blow out a breath. “I’m here for Honey.” I point myself in a new direction, waving off my brother’s call as I take fast strides and seek out the only reason for my visit home.
When Honey wakes up, she is going to be thrilled that her episode, whatever its cause, occurred with her full face on and her hair freshly styled from Saturday’s visit to the beauty salon.
Resting against the white sheets, she looks pretty and peaceful. Were it not for the wires and tubing poking from her, I’d mistake her rest for sleep. I lift one of her hands with its short fingernails painted a dainty pink, and wrap my fingers around hers. Across from me, wearing an endearing expression, my dad watches his mother, gently stroking her arm beneath the blanket.
My father is a good man and a great dad, but we’re very different people. He and Rand are two peas in a pod. But ironically, Dad’s parents have always drawn me. Gampy and Honey and I clicked from day one, and as I grew, the three of us bonded in ways I never attained with Dad or with my grandparents on Mom’s side.
I visited often and even lived with them one summer when I was home from college. I helped Gampy tend to their twenty-acre property and had a blast doing so. Gampy let me drive his tractor, build things, shoot at skunks, and fish in the small pond at the rear of the property. Honey stuffed me full of homecooked food.
“They ran tests earlier. Brain activity looks good. They’re letting her rest and hoping she wakes up soon.”
I nod. “I’m sure the hip hurts, so maybe it’s good she’s sleeping.”
Dad nods, but we both know a coma—let’s call it what it is—isn’t a good thing.
I would stick to Honey’s side if hospital policy allowed overnight stays in the ICU, but eventually, Dad and I are bumped. I’m forced to surrender my slot to Rand and…Becca. We slide past each other in the doorway. I avert my eyes and ignore my brother’s pat on the shoulder.
Mom, who wasn’t in the waiting room when I arrived, embraces me. I bundle her up in a giant bear hug, setting my chin atop her head. She’s another thing I most miss when I’m on the road. When I was a teen, she owned the patience of a saint. Tired after long days, she’d sit up until all hours, listening to my pathetically weak philosophical ramblings about the world I was discovering. Man, I thought some of the dumbest stuff back then. Nonetheless, she smiled, yawned, and nodded along until I finally wore myself out and let her shuffle off to bed. Those times were priceless.
The next few hours pass with family coming and going and no change in Honey’s condition. At nine, the end of visiting hours, Mom leaves her chair next to Dad and hugs me again. Her palm lingers on my sleeve. “Can I get a ride home with you, sonny?”
I glance toward the double doors separating Honey from her loving family. “I don’t want to leave her.”
Mom’s smile is gentle. “I know, sweetie. The nurses said that if she wakes up they’ll allow a quick visit, and Dad and Aunt Linda want to be here for that.”
Makes sense, they are her children.
“I rode here with Dad, so…”
