I wipe a tear from my cheek. “This treatment, it could save him?” I ask. “Or would it just prolong the inevitable?”
He looks at me like I’m the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. “They’re having good success with it. There are no guarantees, however.”
“But it would give him a chance?”
“The best he could have.”
I nod. Logan squeezes me to him. I’ll be right back, I sign to him. I know what I have to do. My heart is breaking in two. But I know what my choices are.
Where are you going? he asks.
Restroom. I’ll be right back.
You ok?
I nod. He watches me walk away, his gaze boring into my back. I can feel it all the way down the hall. I don’t stop at the bathroom, though. I keep walking until I find a payphone.
I pick up the handle and a weird sort of peace settles over me. I press the button for the operator. “Collect call to California, please,” I say. I rattle off the number. It’s Saturday afternoon. My dad will be in the office.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Mr. Madison’s office,” a chipper voice says.
“You have a collect call from – caller, state your name?” the operator says.
“I’d like to talk with Mr. Madison, please,” I reply.
“We’ll accept the charges.” There’s a stillness on the other end of the line. “Emily, is that you?” the voice says. There’s hope in her voice. She’s been my dad’s secretary for as long as I can remember.
“Can I talk with him, please?” I ask.
The line goes dead for a moment, and then my dad picks up. “Emily?” he asks. I can almost hear the beat of his heart through the phone in the stillness.
“Dad,” I say.
“Em,” he says on a long sigh, like he’s deflating. There’s a clank and I imagine him taking his glasses off his nose and laying them on the table. “Where are you?”
“I need some help, Dad,” I say. I lay my forehead against the cool tiles on the wall and try not to cry. I want to cry for all that I’m giving up. I want to cry for all that I’m giving them. But mostly, I want to cry for me.
“Anything, Emily,” he says. His breath catches. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, I’m fine. But I’m coming home.”
“Tell me where you are. I’ll send the jet.” His voice is urgent.
“Dad, first, I need for you to do something for me.” Please, please, please do this for me.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “What do you need, Emily?”
“I need for you to take care of something for me, Dad.” I tell him some of the story. “I need for you to get him in the trial. And I want to take care of his treatment. We’ll use my money, Dad.” I have enough to spare. And then some. A lot more than I need.
He chuckles. “We don’t need to touch your trust fund, Em,” he says. “Why does this young man matter to you?” he asks.
“He just does, Dad.”
I hear his pen click. “What’s his name?”
“Matthew Reed.” My voice clogs in my throat. He’s going to do it. He’s going to do it. I tell him the name of the hospital. “I don’t know more information than that. I don’t even know who his doctor is.”
He chuckles. “I can get the information I need.”
“You’re going to do it, right, Dad?” I ask.
“Emily,” he sighs. “If I do this, you’re coming home.”
My voice is a whisper. “Yes, Dad. I understand.”
“I’m sending the jet for you now.”
“I need a day, Dad. I need for you to handle this now. And I need another day. If you’ll give me that much time, I’ll come home and I’ll do whatever you want.” I’m pleading with him now.
He waits. And I hear his pen click over and over. “Ok,” he breathes. “I’m sending the jet now. It’ll be waiting when you’re ready at the airport.”
“Take care of this for me, Dad.” I roll my forehead back and forth across the tiles. “Please. Promise me.”
“I’d do anything for you, Em,” he reminds me.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” I whisper.
“Two days, Em,” he says. “No longer.” And before the line goes dead, I hear him yelling details to his secretary. I hear Matt’s name. And I hear him tell her to handle it. It’ll get done. I’m sure of it.
I walk back to the waiting room. The doctor is gone and all the boys are standing there with their arms around one another. “What happened?” I ask.
They move away from one another. “They’re moving him to a room. He’s awake. We can go see him in just a minute,” Paul explains.
I drop into a chair. My legs will no longer support me.
A few minutes later, a nurse summons the boys to follow her. Logan takes my hand and tugs me along with them. “I’m not family,” I say.
“Shut up,” he murmurs. He brushes a strand of hair back that’s stuck to my lip.
I let him tow me along.
“You can only stay for a few minutes,” the nurse warns.