Oursister had always been in the unique position of never doing wrong. She wasrarely scolded and almost never in trouble. Once upon a time, I had envied herfor that, until I realized she’d never had much of a choice. She needed to beperfect, to counteract every fucked-up thing my brother and I had done. OnceI’d acknowledged that, I just felt bad that she’d never really been allowed tolive.
ButJenna had also gotten something that Zach and I never did. And that was anundying, close knit bond with our father. One she’d never had to work at.
Itonly seemed natural that she’d be more upset now and less angry.
“Igotta go home,” he muttered. “I need … I dunno, time to think or something. Youknow what I’m sayin’? And I can’t think with,” he gestured behind us, towardthe hospital looming over our shoulders, “all this shit.”
“Ifeel you,” I replied honestly, while also despising him for having somewhereelse to go.
“I’llcall you, okay? And if there’s any update, let me know.”
“Yeah,”I said, nodding. “Sure.”
Westood and Zach pulled me into his arms. We hugged tightly, and for a brief fractionof time, I felt about thirty years younger, wrapped in the protection of mybig, strong brother. The one I looked up to, the one with all the answers. Butthen, he let go and walked away, and that’s when he became the one whoabandoned me when I needed him most.
***
AfterPops fell asleep, I sent Jenna home. She’d been sitting on the windowsill,leaning in an uncomfortable position against the glass and dozing off. I toldher she needed to go home and rest, and that I would call her if anythingchanged. She had hesitated, but eventually, she did leave.
Andthen, I was alone.
Alonewith my dying father.
Ihated being alone.
Ipulled out my phone to occupy my time and soon found myself reading aboutcoronary artery disease. I didn’t get far into my research via Doctor Googlebefore I spotted a word I’d heard before: Ischemic. It stuck out to me like abig, red, throbbing sore thumb, and that’s when Nurse Andrea walked in, pushingher computer.
“Hi,”she greeted, too cheerfully for my taste.
“Hey.”
Shecocked her head as she typed. “Everything okay?”
“Well,I found out my dad’s dying, but other than that, I’m just swell.”
Exhaling,then nodding, she said, “I saw in the doctor’s report. I’m sorry.”
“Youalready knew,” I accused pointedly.
“Huh?”She continued typing, never looking at me.
“Yousaid ischemic.”
“Right,”she replied, nodding. “Coronary artery disease. That’s what the doctor—”
“Youspecificallysaid ischemic, that’s the word you used, and that wasbefore the doctor had even diagnosed him,” I said, putting my phone down besideme and studying the firm set of her jaw as she worked. “How the hell did youknow that just by looking at him?”
Sheshook her head. “I’ve been doing this for a—”
“Doyou work for his cardiologist?”
Hertyping stopped abruptly; her fingers laying still against the keys. “W-What?”
Bingo.
“Isthat how you knew he had ischemic heart disease?”
Andreaturned toward me and shook her head. “N-No, I’ve only ever worked here.”
