My brother, Gavin, slept slumped over in a chair in the corner. He was going to wake up with a mean crick in his neck. My sister, Felicity, was furiously tapping away on her phone. I hadn’t seen either of my siblings in months. We hadn’t been particularly close growing up, primarily because they were both so much older than I was. But now, seeing the two of them, I felt nothing but relief that they were there. The thing about family is that push come to shove, they had your back. It was reassuring on such a basic level.
My mom gripped my hand as we approached Felicity. She looked up startled and then got to her feet to hug Mom. Felicity was like a mini-Mom. They were exactly the same height and build and my mother could easily pass for Felicity’s older sister.
Which made sense, considering my mom and dad were kids barely out of high school when Mom first got pregnant with Gavin and then ten months later with Felicity. I didn’t enter the picture until sixteen years later.
So I had essentially grown up an only child. By the time I was old enough to actually understand how nice it would be to have a sibling to share things with, they were both grown up and living their own lives.
Felicity turned and gave me her Mom-like smile and enfolded me in a hug. “They just took Dad somewhere for more tests. They wanted you to come find the head nurse on duty when you got back,” Felicity told my mother.
“Why don’t you take your sister to get something to eat. She hasn’t eaten or slept at all,” my mom directed Felicity, as though I were still a child. Felicity nodded and my mom buzzed the speaker to be let through the locked doors of the ICU.
“Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. The coffee’s horrible, but you may find something worth eating,” Felicity led me by the arm. I looked back at my brother who had started to snore. “Leave him. He’s exhausted,” Felicity said and I followed her to the elevator banks.
One burnt bagel and two very bad cups of coffee later, Felicity and I were back in the waiting room of the ICU. Mom hadn’t come back out and we sat there, on pins and needles waiting for news. It was the most painful hour of my life.
The not knowing.
“How are Leslie and Julia?” I asked Felicity. Leslie was ten and Julia had just turned three. I didn’t get to see my nieces nearly often enough, but I made sure never to miss a birthday or a Christmas. I was cool Auntie Riley, mostly because I lavished the two girls with gifts and ice cream. I was a ruthless child briber. But I intended to keep the title of greatest aunt ever at whatever the cost.
“They’re great. Leslie has decided she wants to learn how to play the guitar. So Sam bought her an old beater from the thrift shop. We’ll see how long the desire lasts. Julia will be starting a new pre-school after Christmas. She’s already trying to read. We call her our little Einstein,” Felicity said, beaming with pride.
“That’s awesome. You have some great kids, Fliss,” I said, giving her as much of a smile as I could muster.
“What about you? How’s school? Mom said you were interning at the local paper. That’s pretty great, Ri,” my sister commented.
“Yeah…” I trailed off as the doors to the ICU opened and my mom came into the waiting room. Both Felicity and myself got to our feet and my brother was instantly awake. He barely processed the fact that I was there; he was immediately by Mom’s side.
Her face was ashen and she looked sick. “What is it, Mom?” Gavin asked her. My brother looked like he had aged ten years.
Mom griped his arm, as though she couldn’t stand up on her own. “They’re going to start prepping him for surgery. Your father has a total blockage of one of his coronary arteries. They need to go in and repair the damage. So now is the time to see him.” My mom didn’t need to say while you can. Because that was implied. Dad’s situation was obviously very serious and I just wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
“Only one of you can go back at a time,” my mom said. She was totally frazzled and I could see how tenuous her grip on things was. Gavin turned to me and motioned me toward the doors.