I’m glad I was able to get him to eat a sandwich, at least there’s something in his body.
As we drive, the radio provides a level of background noise that’s not intrusive, but the air is still heavy with anxious anticipation.
I message Eloise to get Apollo’s number, and drop him a quick message.
Me: Hi Apollo, it’s Penelope. Do you have a sec?
Apollo: What’s up?
Me: I’m on the way to Mercy with Tate. Something’s happened with his parents. Don’t know what or how serious. Will keep you posted.
Apollo: I’ll meet you at Mercy.
Me: No, no. It’s okay. I know you guys have a big shindig for Thanksgiving, and I don’t want to pull you away until I know what we’re dealing with. But I wanted to warn you, I might need you.
Me: Tate might need you.
Apollo: Regardless of who needs me, let me know. I’ll be there.
My hand shakes as I type. I need to be strong for Tate, I don’t know what lies ahead of him, but he’s already taking it badly.
And I also don’t know how much more he has left in the tank. The past six weeks have been tough on him as it is. He’s had to dig himself out of a dark space, and he’s done himself proud, but there’s only so much a person can take before they break.
With every mile that passes on our way to the hospital, guilt gnaws at my insides. For so long I craved vengeance, revenge, payback, whatever the right word is, I wanted it. I wanted Tate to suffer like I’d suffered, I wanted his dad to suffer like Dad suffered, their family to suffer like we suffered.
But now my stomach is tight, my throat is dry, and I want to take it back. I want to take back every single time I thought of something awful befalling them. I want to take it all back because I think this is bad, my gut says this is as bad as Tate seems to think it is, and I want to revoke every bad thought I’ve ever had toward the Myers family, and I want them to be okay.
The trudge through the emergency room is a blur of beeping machines, hurried bodies, and guiding Tate around people and things to get to where we need to be. We’re asked to take a seat before Nurse Dave comes and introduces himself to us.
He moves us somewhere quieter, away from the overwhelm of the ER and into what seems to be a family room.
“It’s never good when they pull you into a different room,” mumbles Oli, echoing what I was already starting to put together.
Giving someone privacy isn’t generally what you want in a hospital when you walk into a traumatic situation. You want them to greet you, tell you your family members are fine, and take you to them.
That’s not happening.
Nurse Dave waits with us until a doctor appears. While he talks, I watch Tate’s face, making sure he’s soaking in the information he’s being given.
Every now and then I glance in Dad's direction to make sure he and Oli are still here too.
The doctor tells Tate his parents were in a fatal car accident, and from the way he says it, Tate’s parent or parents are the fatalities.
Tears blur my vision as my throat swells with emotion. I grip Tate’s hand with both of mine as I let the doctor finish saying what he needs to say.
“I’m sorry to inform you that your father didn’t make it. He passed away in the ambulance en route to the hospital.”
Tate’s pale face remains stoic, cold, emotionless, while thick hot tears race down my face dripping off my chin onto my shirt.
“Your mother is in our ICU on life support.”
Something inside me cracks.
When he goes on to explain to Tate that she has no brain activity, and they’re simply keeping her alive with a machine for him to say goodbye, that crack turns into a chasm deep inside my chest.
My heart can’t take it.
“Are you sure?” My voice sounds like I’ve guzzled sawdust all morning.
