He knew what she was thinking—how could a son not know his mother was in the intensive care unit? And his father hadn’t mentioned she was that ill. Marcus thanked her and headed to the bank of elevators, tapping his feet with nervous energy as he waited. Of course they all came at the same time, but he finally punched in the button and was rattling upward, sharing his space with a family carrying an entire party store’s worth of pink balloons sporting “Congratulations” and “It’s a Girl.”
Luckily his ride was short, and he pushed his way out to freedom. The nurse’s station sat opposite the elevator, and he approached a woman who looked terrifyingly competent.
“I’m here to see Mrs. Feldman?”
Her thin eyebrows arched in surprise. “Are you a relative?”
“I’m her son.”
Those brows almost disappeared into her hairline. “Oh. We didn’t know she had any children. Your father hasn’t been here since she was brought in.”
“I’d like to see her, please,” he said, between gritted teeth.
“Are you aware how ill she is?” The nurse came around from behind the counter to walk with him down the hall. “She’s had several severe strokes since she was brought in, each one weakening her further. The last one left her completely incapacitated. Right now we have her on a ventilator, since she’s unable to breathe on her own.”
Horrified, Marcus stopped walking. “You mean she’s brain-dead?” Where the fuck was his father? He knew all this and still wasn’t here? “He didn’t tell me anything.”
But you never asked.
“Technically no. But I’m not certain she’ll be able to survive another episode. You can speak to the doctor if you’d like for me to page him.”
Marcus nodded, dumbly. “Thank you.”
They turned a corner and stood before a long glass window, behind which he saw a small figure lying in bed, hooked up to machines. A nurse sat at the bank of monitors, checking charts. The beeping and hissing from all the different machines already drove him crazy, and he’d been there less than a minute.
“Can I go inside?”
The nurse nodded. “Because she’s critical, we’re allowing family in. If you speak to your father, you might want to tell him to come.” She hesitated. “We’ve left several messages.”
Fucking bastard. “I’ll do my best.”
She squeezed his arm, and he stiffened. The last thing he wanted right now was a stranger’s sympathy. He entered the room and sat by his mother’s bed, watching the machine breathe for her. What he really wanted was for this day to start over, with him back in bed with Tyler. He ran his hand through his hair; he couldn’t stop shaking. Never in his life had he felt so fucking useless. He wanted Tyler; he’d know what to do.
He checked his watch and saw it was already ten thirty. Tyler would be on his way to drop Lillie off for ice skating, then on to his classes. It wasn’t right for Marcus to bother him; he would deal with this by himself, like he had for all these years.
One thing he had to do was tell his father to get his sorry ass down here. He pulled out his cell phone, and the nurse immediately shook her head.
“I’m sorry sir, you’re not allowed to use them inside here; you’ll have to step out of the room.”
He glanced over at the bed as if he expected his mother to say something, but she remained still and waxy pale.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
With the phone still clutched in his hand, he exited the room and stood against the wall. Hesitating for only a minute, he pushed the button to get connected to his father’s office. Of course, the secretary answered.
“Mr. Feldman’s office. How may I help you?”
“This is his son. I need to speak with him.”
Without a break for thought, the secretary answered. “I’m sorry, sir, but he’s not in the office. Can I take a message?”
“Yes.” Marcus inhaled and made sure to speak as clearly as possible. “Tell that bastard his wife is dying and to get his selfish fucking ass to the hospital. Got that?”
“Y-yes sir. I’ll make sure he gets the message.”
“You do that.” And he clicked off.
His hands shook like an addict reaching for the next blessing of heroin as he paced the hall. Maybe there was something to be said for the sweet oblivion of drugs. He finally managed to slip his phone back into his pants pocket, when he felt a presence behind him.
