Declining the call, I start typing a quick message that I’ll call him later. But before I can hit send, he’s calling again. “Ok. Something must be up.” Answering the call, I greet, “Hey, Dad, what’s shakin’?” As I lean back into my office chair, my attention fixes on the photos of outdoor scenery I’ve hung up across from my desk. The images are mostly of pictures I took while hiking in Seattle… with Sam.
Sam went to college in Seattle, and I followed him shortly after. These photos inevitably remind me of him—even when I don’t want them to.
“Kat.” Dad’s hoarse voice interrupts my wayward thoughts. His tone sets my nerves on edge. “It’s Ethan.” He pauses, and I hear him take a ragged breath. “He was in a car accident.” His words are slow, like he's choking on them.
"Is he ok?" Still leaning back in my chair, I try to stop my mind from reeling. I don't know anything yet.
“He’s in rough shape. He’s in surgery now, but it doesn’t look good." Tears stream down my face, and I choke back a sob.
I immediately shoot up from my chair, unable to sit as I process Dad’s words. I just talked to Ethan this morning and asked for his advice on a case I’m working on.
I can’t speak yet, and there is only silence on the other side—like Dad knows I need a minute.
I force myself to look at the potted plants I keep on my windowsill. Anything to try to ground myself so I don’t spiral.
Standing still isn’t working, so I start pacing back and forth in my small office. My heart thumps too loudly in my ears as the world turns too quiet.
“Kat?” Dad’s voice breaks.
“An accident?” It comes out wobbly. I lean over the front of my desk and place my hands on the surface, feeling the grooves of the dark oak beneath my fingertips.
Just breathe.
I look at the neat piles of documents scattered across the flat surface of my desk, not really seeing anything.
"You should come home," Dad says softly.
I clear my throat, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” My voice sounds like I’m sucking down molasses.
“Drive safe.” I can hear the tears in his voice now. “I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
We hang up, and I stay leaning over my desk, my hands planted in place. After a few moments, I stand up and wipe the tears from my cheeks as I walk around my desk. Thankfully, I don’t wear much makeup and don’t have to worry about it smearing.
Like most junior attorneys, my office is small. Truthfully, I’m just grateful to have a spot where I can shut the door and tune outthe noise of the bustling law firm I work at. I’m even more thankful for this space right now; I don’t want anyone to see me crying at work.
Sitting back in my chair, I quickly send the draft I’ve been working on with a quick overview to my boss before walking to his office. As calmly as I can, I begin to explain the situation.
I don’t get past saying my brother was in an accident before my boss cuts me off. “Go home, Katherine, we have everything handled here.”
I don’t hesitate at his words; I walk back to my office, gather my purse and phone, and leave.
I stop at my apartment long enough to change into leggings and a T-shirt and fill a bag with some necessities for the trip. Mostly clothes and my toothbrush.
Throwing my bag into the trunk of my car, I send a quick text message to Liv:
Ethan was in an accident, and I'm headed to Charleston. I don't know much but it sounds bad. I'll call you when I know more.
Shit, girl
Ok. Please keep me posted and drive safe!
Briefly, I contemplate sending a message to Sam. The thought of messaging him makes my stomach churn. I know he would want to know. He deserves to know. I wish someone else could tell him. But I can’t put this on my parents.
I can’t remember the last time I texted him outside of responding to his holiday or birthday greetings—usually with something vague and noncommittal. I type and retype the message several times before I bite the bullet and hit send.
Hi Sam. I'm not sure if you've heard. Ethan was in a car accident and is in surgery. I don't know much but it sounds bad.
