When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, I scanned the hallway for Adair’s dark-green scrubs even though I knew he was working on the second floor today. A set of pink scrubs with little lollipops printed on them grabbed my attention instead, and I stopped in my tracks, immediately knowing something was wrong.
Delly was leaning against the wall outside Dad and Wilbur’s apartment, hunched over on herself as she furiously wiped away tears.
The elevator doors started to close, which unfroze myfeet. I hurried through them, my heart skipping when they jolted to a stop halfway to closing, then pushed open again.
“Delly,” I said when I made it to her, gripping her upper arm. “What’s wrong?”
She hiccupped as she lifted her watery gaze to mine, her chin quivering.
I squeezed her arm as she stared at me for several long moments, my mind tumbling over itself as it provided me with a thorough list of candidates for catastrophe.
It was an effort to not try to shake the answer out of her when I repeated my question, and she didn’t answer.
“Is it Wilbur?” I asked, glancing over her shoulder at the closed apartment door. “My dad?”
She shook her head, but it did nothing to relax me.
“Tell me, Delly,” I said, softening my voice and my grip.
“P-Pops,” she said, stuttering over her words. “I just popped into see him, and then the sky got dark, and it thundered really loudly, and he started saying some crazy stuff about Adair’s accident. B-but when I questioned him about it, he got mad. And then he got confused, and he… he….” She hiccupped, wrapping her arms around herself. “He raised his voice at me, asking me what I was doing there,” she rasped, her whole body shaking. “I kn-know it’s the disease, but he’s never yelled at me before.”
The fist around my heart released its grip, and the tired organ fell to the floor.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do you want me to go get your brother?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, please don’t. I can handle this.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, shifting my arm so it was around her shoulders.
She nodded. “I’ll tell him, but I need to get myself together first. I don’t want to throw this on him.”
“I’m sure he would want you to,” I said, guiding her to the nearest alcove, where I directed her to sit down, putting my board beside her.
She fisted the fabric of her light pink scrubs pants and bit her lip. “That’s the problem,” she whispered, looking up at me. “And that’s why I need to wait, okay?”
She looked so lost, and my eyes stung, but I sniffed the emotion back. I knew the exact brand of turmoil shredding her up, and there was nothing I could say to help it right now.
But I could make sure her loved ones were okay.
“I’m going to tell the nurse on duty what happened so they can check your Pops over, okay?”
She nodded.
“Okay,” I repeated, squeezing her leg. “Stay here and wait for me.”
Once she showed me that she understood, I took off down the hallway, but then slowed my pace.
If she was watching, I didn’t need her to think I was panicked.
“Hey,” I said, relieved to see Nurse Emily walking out of a nearby apartment. “Could you come check on them with me?” I asked, angling my head toward Apartment 3A.
“Of course,” she said, taking the initiative and knocking on the door before letting herself in.
Wilbur was sitting at the table, his hands in tight, shaking fists in his laps, his shoulders slumped.
“No, no,” Dad said, hovering over Wilbur. “That’ll never do, Willie. Here, maybe the big crayons will be better.”
Dad shuffled to his room, then came back out with apackage of jumbo crayons. “The therapist said these are better for you.”
