“Ethan was on his way to meet one of his clients,” Dad explains, his voice quiet. “About an hour after he left the office, I got a call from one of the people here. I’m his emergency contact.” He shrugs at the last part. “So, anyway, the man told me Ethan was being admitted to the hospital and needed emergency surgery.”
He pauses, taking a deep breath and blowing it out before continuing. I remind myself to breathe as Dad quietly speaks.
“He said Ethan was in a car accident and they suspected internal bleeding and a possible brain injury.”
Shit. That… that can’t be right.I furiously brush away the silent, hot tears streaming down my face.
“I dropped everything at work—practically ran to my car.” Dad lets out a choked sob as he looks down at his hands in his lap. I just stare at him—stunned. I don’t know how to process Dad crying.
I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always stoic, even when his parents died a few years back. I’ve always thought of Dad as being strong. But now? Right now, he looks—it terrifies me.
Putting her hand on his knee, Mom picks up where he left off. “Dad picked me up, and we came straight here.” She squeezes his knee and gives him a small smile.
The one thing I’ve always loved about my parents is how they support each other, always picking up where the other one falters. They care deeply for each other and aren’t afraid to show it. I only hope I can have the kind of love they have.
“There were police officers here when we arrived. They told us someone who saw the accident called 911. Ethan was driving on the interstate when his tire blew. His car hit the median.” Mom can’t hold back the tears anymore; mine haven’t stopped despite my best efforts to wipe them away.
“His car bounced off the median and rolled a few times.” Dad’s voice is all business now, as if he has to put on his work persona so he can finish telling me what happened. “He had to be extricated from his car,” he says that last part so quietly, I almost didn’t hear it.
Stunned into silence, I just sit here, my hands gripping the strap of my purse. I’m trying to wrap my head around what they’re telling me, but it doesn’t seem right.
Nothingseems right.
“Have you talked to the doctors?” I finally croak out.
“No,” Dad responds. “No one has been out to see us. I asked someone at the nurse’s station, but they didn’t have any updates.”
I don’t know what else to say as my mind reels from the news. Ethan’s been in surgery for a few hours already.
My parents’ words play on a continuous loop in my mind as I try to make sense of them. But nothing does.
I can’t understand what happened. How did his car hit the median and then flip? How did he lose control? Why did his tire blow like that?
Did I tell him I love him when we spoke this morning?
Did I say I love you?
Did I say I love you?
Did I say I love you?
We sit in silence as I stare at a spot on the wall—a stain left from who knows how long ago. I’m not even sure how much time passes, but I start to feel my legs cramp.
My parents snap their attention to me when I stand suddenly. “I just need to stretch my legs. I’m going to take a walk; maybe find the cafeteria and see if they have anything to eat.” I wave Dad off when he starts reaching for his wallet.
I wander the hospital halls, following the signs that point me in the direction of the cafeteria. After purchasing pre-made salads and bottles of water for each of us, I head back. My parents are the only ones left in the waiting room when I return. Handing them their food and drinks, I sit back down in one of the uncomfortable chairs.
The worry twisting my gut makes it impossible to eat, but I push the salad around the plastic bowl it came in with my fork.
The silence of the hospital waiting room is deafening.
Finally, a doctor walks in, breaking the quiet. “Oaks?” he calls from the doorway. It's weird since we're the only ones sitting here. But we all raise our heads at the name and watch with bated breath as he sits in a chair across from my parents.
The doctor’s expression is guarded.This can’t be good, then.“I’m Dr. Ford. I’m the emergency-room doctor today and have been helping your son.” He takes a breath, composing himself.
“Is my brother ok?” I blurt out.
Dr. Ford shifts his focus to me. “We did everything we could, but his injuries were too extensive. I’m afraid to tell you that Ethan died on the operating table.”
