“Nan. I’m looking for Nan. Uh. Annette Riley. She’s like this tall.” I hold my hand up to Nan’s approximate height. “Youwouldn’t know that if she was lying down. Shit. I don’t know. She has white hair and she smells like flowers and . . .” The rest of my words are a jumble, the sobs catching up.
“Lottie.”
Kara stands behind me and I cross the waiting room towards her. “What happened? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. We were unpacking at her new place—arranging her curio cabinet. She stood up to go get those damn brownies out of the oven and she just sort of slipped to the ground. She was unconscious when I got to her. She woke up when they were putting her in the ambulance, but I haven’t been able to get any more information. They say they can’t tell me since I’m not family.”
I pivot and head back to the nurse’s station. “Annette Riley is my grandmother. What can you tell me?”
The nurse’s eyes flick from Kara and then back to me. I don’t think she believes me, but she turns to her computer anyway. “It looks like she’s still in triage. They’re running tests. Nothing has been updated, but I’ll let the doctors know where they can find you.”
I nod, numb to the rest of her words. Kara’s arm wraps around my shoulders and she steers me towards the row of chairs along the wall. The carpet—a speckled blue short pile—shifts under me and I fall into the seat.
Kara holds me like this, her hand running up and down my arm, while we wait. Time ticks by at an agonizing pace as more people come in through the wide swishing doors and countless salty tears trace down my cheeks and onto my shirt. My phone is buzzing every few minutes in my hand, but I have no interest in what anyone might have to say right now.
In less than an hour my entire world has crumbled out of my hands. How could I have let this happen? I knew Noah and I were too good to be true, but I let myself trust and was blindedby it all. Laura might have had her wires crossed, but it was my fault. If I had just kept to the original agreement of ending things when we returned to Portland, or even better never embarked into the whole fake dating, none of this would be happening. I might have even been with Nan when all of this happened—been the one to ride in the ambulance and be sitting with her right now. She must be so scared.
My back twinges, the crumpled position I’m in pulling my muscles tight, and I sit up. Kara’s hand finds my thigh with a comforting pat.
“Can I get you anything? A coffee, or maybe a snack?”
I shake my head, my body too tense for food or drink. My phone buzzes again and I slip it to silent and put it in my pocket. The only people I need are already in this hospital.
Kara pats me again. “I’m going to get something to keep my hands warm. It’s so goddamn cold in here.”
She drifts away, out of my peripheral; my gaze is still glued to the floor. A pair of black nikes step up in front of me, snapping my attention up to the salt and pepper haired doctor holding a clipboard.
“Are you with Annette Riley?”
“Yes.” I sit up and scoot to the edge of my chair. “I’m her granddaughter.”
The lie is more of a truth than anything and will help me see her sooner. I wait for him to lead the way. Instead, he sinks into the chair across from me. His face doesn’t tell me anything except that maybe he’s in the last few hours of his shift; his eyes are rimmed with dark circles.
“I’m Dr. Stevens. I took Annette’s case when she came in.”
“Is she okay? My roommate said she collapsed, but then woke up.”
Dr. Steven’s lips press into a thin line. “She was conscious when she came in, yes.”
Was conscious.
“And now?”
“It appears Annette suffered a massive heart attack. It caused severe trauma to the muscle. Given her age, it’s a miracle she regained consciousness at all. However, I’m sorry to say she was conscious when she came in, but she did not remain that way. We did everything we could to revive her, but we were unable to. Annette has died.”
The world slips away around me—the color fading and turning everything into a watercolor of gray.Annette has died.The phrase repeats over and over until it’s foreign—a language I don’t understand. A language built from shards of loss and pain.
A rib cracking sob breaks out and my knees hit the ground. Kara’s arms are around me, her face pressed into the back of my neck.
Annette has died.
I don’t know how or when, but we are escorted to visit her body. The weight returns to my limbs as I step into the room, the cold air rushing into my lungs all at once.
Nan is lying in a neat hospital bed, her face slack like she’s taking a nap. The room is empty, no monitors, tubes or wires. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Her arms lay limp at her side, her skin a pale wash of smoothed wrinkles.
Kara keeps her arm wrapped around my waist as we approach, my wailing reduced to silent tears. Nan looks so frail here, all the things that made her big and full of life are gone. She’s gone.
After helping me into a chair, Kara whispers she’ll be right outside and slips out, the door clicking shut behind her. Thesilence presses in, the pressure of it butting up against the massive ball of grief burning hot in my belly. I’m being pushed and pulled in every direction all at once, unable to give in to any part of it. A holding pattern of pain.
