I smile, despite everything. This is my punchline whenever I feel someone’s slacking, which Mother knows well. Also, she might be on to something. It’s not something I want to admit, but maybe I was looking for excuses.
“Thank you, Mother. I—” The phone starts vibrating, alerting me that there’s another incoming call: Julie. “Julie’s calling me. I’ll catch up with you later.”
I switch off this call, taking Julie’s.
“Hi, pumpkin,” I greet her.
“Hi, Eric,” Mrs. Bennett says.
My insides clench instinctively. “Did something happen to Julie?”
“She cut her arm the other day,” Mrs. Bennett says quickly.
“Is she all right?”
“She didn’t tell me about it, so it got infected. I found out today, and I’m about to take her to the hospital. I—”
“I’ll come to your house and get her,” I say, barely keeping my voice even. “I want to speak to my daughter.”
“Hi, Dad,” Julie says. “It hurts.”
“You’ll be okay, sweetheart.” My gut clenches, and I hurt for her. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until I arrive?”
“Yes, Dad.”
I spend the next twenty minutes with her on the phone, soothing her, trying to take her mind off the pain while speeding through the city.
Mrs. Bennett waits with my daughter and her suitcase in front of her house. I pull over and hurry to them, my eyes on Julie’s arm. Fuck! It’s red and swollen, far too swollen for a simple infection. Julie sobs and wraps her healthy arm around my neck as I hug her.
“You will be all right,” Mrs. Bennett says, patting her head. To me, she says, “These things happen to kids all the time, Eric.”
“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth, lifting Julie in my arms. My anger is directed more at myself at this point, but I don’t want to discuss this with her or I might end up being disrespectful. “We’re going now.”
Mrs. Bennett pats my shoulder but doesn’t reply. I secure my daughter in the car, then climb in the driver’s seat and gun the engine. All the way to the hospital, I speak about everything under the sun, trying to distract Julie. If I’m honest, I’m trying to distract myself too. Her arm doesn’t look good at all.
At the hospital, it takes forever until a doctor finally sees her. I’m pacing in the corridor for fifteen agonizing minutes until the doctor comes out.
“Your daughter needs surgery,” he informs me.
“What?”
“We need to open up the area to clean it, and also to determine what kind of bacteria caused the infection so we can treat it. She’ll need to stay here a few days. Don’t worry. It’s not serious, and she’ll be fine, but we need to keep her under observation and change her bandages once a day.”
I clench my fists at my sides. “Of course.”
“We’ll take her to the fifth floor for the surgery. It will be short, fifteen minutes tops.” He gives me some more details, and then the waiting begins.
I go up to the fifth floor and pace up and down the corridor, unable to stay put. This is my worst nightmare come true. Damn it, I shouldn’t have let her stay with Mrs. Bennett. I’ve let my desire to have more alone time with Pippa get in the way, and that’s unforgivable.
Being in the hospital brings back my worst memories of another wait, many years ago. I tell myself the two things are completely unrelated, but I can’t shake the memory. It strangles me. The smell of medicine and disinfectants only serves to i
ntensify the memory, as does the austere white paint. I swear, hospitals look the same everywhere.
I remember being in a waiting room not unlike this one in Boston, waiting for the doctors to inform me about the fate of the two people I loved dearest. When one of the doctors finally came out, he told me that Julie would make it. Sarah would not. She was pronounced dead almost as soon as they brought her in. Just like that, my world turned upside down.
This is different. This is very different.
I’m lost in my spiral of negativity when my phone rings, Pippa’s name appearing on the screen.