We followed the ambulance to the Rutland Regional Medical Center, which was the closest hospital. The twenty-minute drive seemed interminable. I sat close to the window on the passenger side of Jimmy’s pickup truck, an ancient, rumbling vehicle that rattled whenever we hit a bump, and prayed that we would make it to the hospital without breaking down. The inside of the truck smelled like pipe tobacco and home fries. A thin coating of dust covered the dashboard and the floor mats were worn through with holes. We probably would’ve been better off taking the quad.
We drove for a while in silence, following the deep glare of red ambulance lights as they cut through the fading night ahead of us. To the right, the sky was turning the faintest shade of pink, like morning glories wakening. Jimmy drove with just the inside of his right wrist resting on top of the steering wheel; next to him, Aiden sat quietly. He had taken his hat off and was rubbing the edge of his hairline with his fingers.
“She’ll be okay,” Jimmy said finally, as we passed a sign that said RUTLAND—2 MILES.
I turned to look at him. “You really think so? Even after everything that guy back there said about hypothermia?”
He nodded. “They got her in time. She’s a little broken up is all. They’ll fix her.”
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks suddenly, as if Jimmy had turned on a faucet with his words.
Next to me, Aiden reached his arm across my shoulders and squeezed.
The emergency waiting room was filled to capacity. I was surprised until I remembered that it was Saturday morning. I’d heard somewhere that Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest in every emergency room all over the country. Why should Vermont be any exception?
Blue-cushioned chairs, shoved together to make one long couch, were pressed up against one side of the room, while the middle was taken up by three separate rows of backless seats. Nearly every seat was occupied, mostly by sleeping people, their coats bunched up in makeshift pillows, heads bent at unnatural angles. Two girls, who looked to be my age, were curled up in fetal positions at the feet of an older couple. With their hair splayed out behind them and their faces slack with sleep, they could have been at a slumber party, not in an emergency waiting room. Another woman, dressed in a pale green suit, nude pantyhose, and black heels, was slouched in a chair at the very end of the wall. Her hand covered her face, but her shoulders shook with sobs. The cuffs of her suit sleeves were covered with blood.
“I’m going to go find some coffee,” Aiden said, nodding at me. “You want some?”
I shook my head.
“Dad?” he asked.
Jimmy nodded. “Cream only.”
“Back in a few,” Aiden said.
Jimmy pointed to a small space in the middle row between two sleeping people. I followed as he settled himself down, crossed his legs at the ankle, and stared at the TV. It was 5:20 a.m. An early morning show blared out a series of morbid headlines. Inflation was up, the stock market was down. The whole world as we knew it was burning, and none of it mattered because the only thing that was important was in the next room, a wall away.
“You knew about Goober?” I heard myself say. “With the custody and everything?”
Jimmy nodded. He did not take his eyes off the television.
“Why?” I asked softly. “Why would she do something like that?”
“She didn’t tell me.” Jimmy shrugged lightly. “And I didn’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“Some things aren’t ours to ask.”
I stared down at my feet.
“I don’t think she’ll go through with it, though,” Jimmy said.
“You don’t?”
Jimmy shook his head. “They haven’t signed the papers yet. I think this is a temporary thing while she’s been trying to figure some other things out.”
My heart pounded. I’d already leapt to the conclusion that it was a done deal. That I’d only get to see Goober on one of Sophie’s weekends. Which would probably be close to never. “Oh God, I hope so.”
On the television, a woman was crying. Her hair stuck up straight off her head and she was dressed in a pink housecoat. Behind her, the scene was a slate of water, punctuated with small, bobbing houses.
“God,” I said, looking away. “There’s just so much…awfulness in the world. Nobody gets a break, do they?”
“Nope.” Jimmy stared straight ahead, watching the woman as she continued to wail.
We both stared at the television screen as the camera panned to another view of destruction. The whole side of a house was gone, gutted like a fish. Inside, a large family portrait still hung on one of the remaining walls, and a living room lamp was upright in a corner. “People get through,” Jimmy said. “You don’t got much choice, really. You either get through or you get stuck. That’s about it.”
I looked over at him for a moment. Little white hairs stuck out from inside his ears, and the lobes were wide and fleshy. “Jimmy?”