I groaned. “I know.” My palms were sweating. I took several deep breaths. He was fine. Jeff was fine. I pulled on the door handle and pushed open the door. “Let’s go.”
The lady at the information desk pointed the way to the intensive care unit waiting room, warning us that’s as far as we’d make it if we weren’t family. I was okay with that.
Lisa grabbed my hand as we turned the last corner.
I recognized Jeff’s parents immediately from the summer before—both tall and handsome, like Jeff. They sat in the corner of the room, a few others I didn’t recognize around them. It seemed as though their bodies and the chairs they sat in had become one, like they’d been there for years. A television was on in the corner but nobody was watching it. My chest tightened another notch.
“We shouldn’t be here. I feel like I’m intruding,” I whispered. “You think they’ll be mad at me that I’m fine and he’s . . . ?”
Lisa pulled on my arm, forcing me to face her. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I think they’ll be happy that you care about Jeff and you’re here to check on him. You’re breaking up the monotony of their day.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” She walked forward, pulling me with her.
Jeff’s mom barely glanced at Lisa before meeting my eyes. The stem of one of the daisies in my hand snapped. I loosened my hold.
She stood, her hands going to her mouth. Jeff’s dad looked at her and then followed her gaze to me. He offered a shaky smile. Then Jeff’s mom was weaving past chairs and people until she stood in front of me. I felt seconds away from passing out even though I had only ever passed out the one time.
I held out the flowers lamely, unable to speak. Lisa saved me.
“Mrs. Matson, we are so sorry about Jeff and just wanted to come and say that we were thinking about him.”
Even though Lisa had been the one talking, Mrs. Matson’s hazel eyes hadn’t left mine and they crinkled with a smile. “Autumn,” she said.
So she did remember me. “Yes, hi.”
She gripped me by my shoulders, the flowers still held out between us. “Autumn.”
This was getting weird. I nodded.
“I’m so happy you’re here. Jeff thinks the world of you.”
“He does?” I’d always hoped he was talking about me to someone. I never imagined it was his mom.
She pulled me into a hug, her chin digging into my forehead. The flowers, which I’d only slightly destroyed before, were now crushed. When she let go, still not acknowledging Lisa, she began dragging me toward the waiting group. I helplessly followed, giving Lisa a look that said, please don’t abandon me. She read it well and stayed close on my heels.
“Jason,” Mrs. Matson said when we reached her husband. “This is Autumn.”
A barely-there smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I remember you from a party at our house, nice to see you.”
I held out the now limp flowers, hoping someone would take them from me. He did.
“Thank you.”
“Autumn wants to see Jeff,” Mrs. Matson said out loud.
“Oh. No, that’s okay, I know it’s family only. I just wanted to find out how he was doing.”
“Yes, it’s family only, cousin Autumn,” Mrs. Matson said, giving me a wink.
“What?” I don’t know why I said that. I got her implication immediately. I was just shocked. Why would she want me to see Jeff?
My own question was answered minutes later, after Lisa had given me a shrug, after Mr. Matson had gone along with the lie, his dark eyebrows only rising slightly in surprise, after I’d made it past the nurse with the cousin story despite my sweaty palms. Mrs. Matson linked her elbow with mine conspiratorially as we followed the nurse down a long white corridor. She whispered, “These first few days are very important for Jeff. They’ve put him in a medically induced coma until some of the swelling in his brain has gone down. Maybe his girlfriend is just the medicine he needs.”
“No . . . I mean we’re not . . . we never even . . . we’re not together.”
“I know, but it was only a matter of time, right?”
I swallowed hard. Yes, it was only a matter of time. I liked him. So I could forget about the pressure I felt right now to be what his mom needed me to be—some sort of miracle worker. I could try to shake off the jitters I always felt about seeing someone sick and helpless. Right now he needed me. We stopped outside a door and the nurse pushed it open. His mom smiled my way, and we all stepped inside.
The room was quiet except for a beep from the machine next to his bed that sounded in a steady rhythm. But even that became distant as I took Jeff in. There was a long gash on his forehead that was stitched up and surrounded by what looked like iodine. There were heart monitor pads on his chest and a tube coming out of his mouth. His eyes were swollen and there were a few scrapes on his arms. I tried not to let the stinging in my eyes turn into tears.
“Go sit next to him. Let him hear your voice,” his mother said.