I got up too. “Can I come with you?”
“He’s my son,” Mom clarified.
“Of course,” the woman replied.
I faced Rowan, who was still seated.
“I’ll stay here. Let me know if you need anything,” he said, and I nodded.
My mom and I followed the lady to a small room with a few chairs and a couch pushed against the wall. Mom sank into one of the chairs immediately, pressing her hands over her mouth, but I remained standing.
“I’m Dr. Young,” the woman introduced herself. “I’m very sorry.”
My ears began ringing.
“We did everything we could,” she explained. “Your husband experienced cardiac arrest. As you know, the paramedics attempted resuscitation during transport, and our team continued those efforts when he arrived, but unfortunately, we were unable to revive him.”
The room felt like it was spinning, and my brain struggled to keep up.
Cardiac arrest.
Unable to revive him.
My dad was dead.
Mom sobbed so intensely it seemed painful.
“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Young repeated.
My body felt unusually numb, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do at that moment.
The doctor eventually asked if we wanted to see my dad, and she arranged for someone to take us to the room he was in.
He lay on the bed, completely still. The oxygen mask was gone, and his eyes were closed. For the first time in my life, he looked peaceful, which was so different from the man filled with rage I was used to seeing that I almost didn’t recognize him.
My mom rushed forward and took his hand. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her reach for him instead of pulling away from him.
She started crying again and mumbling about how much she loved him. Those weren’t words I heard often in my home, and it threw me for a loop. In fact, a few days earlier, I’d listened to them yell about how much they hated each other.
Eventually, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. I stayed where I was, content to say my goodbyes silently from a distance.
In the hallway, Mom wiped her face with a tissue. “I’m going to find out what else the hospital needs from me before we leave. Do you want to pull your car around, and I’ll meet you out front?”
“Sure.”
I returned to the waiting room and saw Rowan sitting in the same chair where I’d left him.
The moment he saw me, he stood up, his face searching mine for something. “Hey.” He walked toward me slowly. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, I said, “We’re leaving.”
Confusion flashed across his face. “Leaving?”
“Yep.” I began walking. He followed right away. The automatic doors opened, and we stepped outside.
He grabbed my arm gently. “Keaton. Your dad?”
I paused, and for a moment, I just stared at the ground. Then I forced the words out. “He died.”
