Thing You Should Know About Me #293: In my mind, hospitals are one of two things. Either they’re yellow and brightly lit with fluorescent lights and balloons, filled to the brim with loud, happy people. Or they’re dim and dismal and quiet, sparsely populated by the dead and waiting-to-die.
In the evening, when the sun is just starting to set, the latter is what Levi and I walk into. I didn’t get to go to the hospital earlier because traffic was terrible and I got to work with only five minutes to spare. So now, finally, we’re heading toward my father’s room, hand in hand, whispering about the delivery I had this afternoon. (A very grumpy woman working at a bar did not want to receive flowers from her ex-boyfriend in front of all her old man drinking buddies, who’d clearly been there since eleven that morning.)
Papa’s room is toward the back of the third floor. It’s a long and quiet trek, one we do not rush, because that would mean there’s a reason to hurry to my father’s bedside. When we stop to survey the room numbers, I cannot miss the fact that the rooms on either side of his are empty. Possibly because someone was released in happy, healthy condition, but also possibly because of something terrible.
I push down the heaviness in my heart and pull Levi inside behind me. “Papa!” I exclaim, a little too happily.
He looks up at me from the bed and smiles, and my mama, who is lying beside him all snuggled up, mumbles something. “Bee!” Papa says, reaching for me.
I hate seeing him like this, in a hospital gown, with those thin hospital sheets thrown over his legs, his body attached to machinery that’s on the wall behind him. It hurts my heart, but I’m not about to show him that. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all right. You know me and my hard head.” He shakes Levi’s hand, nodding with a wink.
“Um, yeah, Mom said something about that last night.” I grip his hand.
“Did you have fun this weekend?” he asks.
I nod vigorously. “Want to see a picture of us at the party?”
“Sure,” Papa says, leaning in close.
“I want to see,” Mama gasps, sitting up. Her hair is wild on one side. “Oh, Bee, you look so beautiful. Levi, did you pick that out?”
Levi beams. “Sure did.”
My mom is so obviously floored that it’s almost funny. “She looks absolutely stunning.”
“Doesn’t she, though?” Levi places a chaste kiss on the side of my head.
“Levi’s the real show stopper, though,” I say, to divert their attention. “I mean, look at that suit.”
Now Levi’s blushing, but I ignore his awkward protests and study the picture with my parents. In the picture we’re standing at the center of Felix’s marble entryway, pillars on either side, my arms around his middle, bunching up his perfect suit. He’s laughing about something Felix said as he took the picture, and my nose is scrunched up all goofy. Somehow this makes the picture perfect. More…accurate. It makes me feel less self-conscious about all the fanciness. All the expectations.
My dad hands my phone back to me. “Was it a good turnout?”
“Better than expected,” Levi says, “and we walked away with more connections than we’ve ever had.”
“Good for you, son,” my dad says.
I squeeze Levi’s hand. He’s got this sad sort of smile, and I know he’s thinking about the conversation he had with his own father today. AuGUStus! told him to shut up, told him he was na?ve and ridiculous, and never once did he call him son.
“Thank you,” Levi finally gets out.
My mom stands up, fixing her wrinkled shirt, and sighs. “I’m going to get ready for bed early, but you can stay as long as you want.”
“Actually—” I begin, surprising myself. “I’d like to stay here tonight. You can go home, Mama.”
She looks at my dad and then back at me and shrugs. “You sure, baby? You had a long weekend.”
“It’s all right, really. You’ve done this more times than I have.”
“Thank God not too many so far.” She shrugs. “Okay. You can borrow my pajamas if you want.”
I nod. “Thanks. Did you bring Crime and Punishment?”
She waves at the table, where I see the book lying on a pile of magazines. I turn to Levi. “Can you take my mom home instead?”
“Of course,” he says. “Good to see you, Matt,” he adds, shaking Papa’s hand. “Glad you’re okay.”
Levi and I head into the hallway while my mom gathers her things, and he doesn’t waste time. He immediately kisses me, hard, on the lips. I slip my arms around his neck, desperately holding on to him, not wanting the moment to end. But I know it has to. “Levi,” I whisper fiercely. “My mother. Oh-my-gosh-awkward.”
He chuckles. “Okay. All right.” He drops his hands to his sides, but his eyes are still holding me there, with my hands at the back of his head, digging into all his glorious hair, and I am so tempted to kiss him again. “Love you,” he says, quietly, and my stomach does this little flip-flop thing. It’s like my heart is being squeezed, and it can’t pump blood like it’s supposed to, and that’s suddenly perfectly fine with me because Levi.
“Love you,” I reply in a strangled voice. Then my mom is closing the door behind me and it’s time to let Levi go. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head like I have nothing to thank him for, but it’s the truth: I have him to thank for everything.
Papa, it seems, has already fallen asleep by the time I get back inside the room.
I stare at him from the end of the bed and sigh heavily, and for two seconds my gaze strays to Crime and Punishment, halfway read, sitting neatly. I grab it, lying down on the makeshift bed on the window seat, and clutch it to my chest, my heart beating against its battered cover.
I return to staring at my dad and watch his chest rising and falling, and I have never been so thankful that I have him here. That he is alive.
The hospital no longer feels so bleak. It doesn’t seem so dark, either, and I think it’s because Levi was here, leaving his mark of joy. With this in mind, I pick up my phone. Thanks for all the little pieces of you, I text him.
I fall asleep like this, a book to my chest, phone in hand, glasses askew, newly kissed and very in-love.
Chapter 35
When Levi texts me cryptic things like, Get your butt over here and an address, I find it hard to resist. Which is how I end up parked on a neighborhood street in Escondido, my AC blasting on high.
I sit in my car for a minute longer, because Gretchen’s on the phone. Her voice is filled with a level of excitement that would make me laugh if I didn’t feel so guilty. I haven’t told her about my dad yet, despite the fact that it’s been a week since Malibu, two weeks since I found out about the cancer. I still can’t open my mouth and force the words out. Every moment seems wrong because each time I imagine how our conversation would go, my heart twists painfully.
So I leave it in the dark. (I’ve never felt more like a coward.)
“Hey, Gretchen—” I hate to interrupt her hilarious rant about her coworkers, but I see Levi’s car. (I need to go before I tell her everything and break her heart.) “Can I call you back in a little bit? I’m here.”
“Hey, of course. Tell The Boy hello from his favorite person.” Gretchen snorts. “Ah, LAK, what a time to be alive.”