Gran clasped her hands in prayer. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I was suddenly overcome with emotion. The doctor turned to leave and the strongest urge to cry welled up inside of me. What the hell was wrong with me? I was going to have to turn in my man card soon. Millie turned me into a pussy.
“You okay?” Gran rubbed my back in small circles.
I cleared my throat. “Was this how it was for you when I was in surgery after the accident? This overwhelming sense of relief after hours of sitting on pins and needles.”
Gran nodded. “Except I had to grieve your sister’s death at the same time I hoped you would live. It was a shitshow.”
Poor Gran. Just being here brought back so many awful memories of that time. I was in the hospital so long, without Jenna, it was depressing as hell. I hated this place.
My voice was low and dark: “You ever wish Wayne had died instead of Jenna?”
Gran pinned me with a glare. “What kind of devil question is that?”
I grinned at her reference to a “devil question.” “I mean if you had to choose.”
“Stop it. You’ve been stuck in the anger phase of grief for too long, son. Time to move on to the next one.”
Maybe she was right, maybe it was time I let Wayne off the hook. Not that I could ever truly forgive and forget what he’d done over the course of my life, but holding in the anger wasn’t going to add years to my life I was sure.
My voice was soft: “I just … I want someone to be hard on him. To make him see what his drinking does.”
Gran shook her head. “There’s nothing you could do that would be harder on him than he is on himself. Why do you think he drinks?”
I frowned, uncomfortable with how real this conversation had become, and suddenly grateful we were the only ones in the room.
“I know, because he loved Mom, and she died, and he can’t live without her—”
“Wrong,” Gran urged. “That’s why he started, but he keeps doing it for another reason.”
Gran tried to get me to go to family counseling with him once. I declined. Then again she invited me to Al-anon, Alcoholics Anonymous for families. Another big fat decline from me. I wasn’t the one who needed therapy.
I appeased the woman: “Why?”
She reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from my eye. “Shame, baby. He’s so ashamed of what he is and what he’s done.”
That feeling was back, the one that made my throat go tight and eyes feel moist. I never thought Wayne was ashamed of being an alcoholic and a genuine fuck-up. I knew he killed himself over what happened to Jenna but—
The door opened and Wayne’s nurse met Gran’s gaze with a smile. “He’s awake if one of you want to go see him.”
Gran looked at me as if asking if I wanted to be that one person.
“You go,” I told her, then looked back at the nurse. “Can I see Millie?”
She smiled sweetly. “Her nurse will get you in a few minutes when she’s awake.”
Giving her a nod, I gave Gran a quick hug and they hurried her to the back while I paced the floor.
As I walked every square inch of that room, I found myself thinking of the irony of Colin giving me his heart and Millie giving my father her liver. I thought about how quickly my life had changed since the day she walked in—for the better. I’d lost my will to live, then she swept in and breathed life back into me.
And what the fuck was taking so long? My gaze flicked up to the clock to see that thirty minutes had passed since Gran left.
Stupid nurse was probably on her lunch break … meanwhile I was gonna have a heart attack worrying about my girlfriend.
I walked over to the door with the small window and no handles and knocked on it. The reception desk to the right was empty, and I couldn’t see a soul. My heart beat wildly in my chest as a whole manner of scenarios played through my head. Was the nurse on a lunch break or did something go wrong? Did Millie’s stitches open up and she bled out our something crazy?
Stop it. She’s fine,I told myself.
