CHAPTER Thirty-Two
I’m not much for prayer.
That’s always been Mattie’s thing.
But sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, I wish very hard.
I wish that Rollins being a good guy counts for something.
I wish that whoever’s keeping score tallies up all the selfless things he’s done in his life and sees that it’s just not fair to take him away so soon.
Too bad I know better.
Life isn’t fair.
And death certainly isn’t.
I watch people coming and going all day long. A lot of them are sad, but there’s a lot of laughter, too. You’d be surprised how much laughter there is in the hospital. I guess even when people are scared they’re going to lose what’s most important to them, they need to celebrate what they still have.
I still have a lot.
I’ve got Mattie.
She brings me coffee from the cafeteria and a toothbrush from the gift shop when it’s time to go to sleep. I won’t go home, so she helps me make a bed out of some of the uncomfortable chairs and gives me her sweater as a blanket. She sits by me then, as I try unsuccessfully to get some sleep.
I’ve got my father.
He didn’t say much as I explained what happened, but when I was done, he wrapped his arms around me and sat there for a long time, just holding me. He talks to Rollins’s doctors and translates the medicalese that I don’t understand. He tries to sound positive, but he doesn’t give me false hope because he believes that family and friends should have an accurate picture of how serious a situation is. That’s part of what makes him a good doctor, I suppose.
I have so much, but all I want is Rollins. It’s strange and ironic that the only person I want right now, the only person who can make me feel better, isn’t here.
He’s in an in-between place.
It’s raining outside. I watch as the water streams down the window, almost as if to make up for the tears I’m not crying.
I can’t cry.
I can’t eat.
I can’t think, especially not about what life will be like if my best friend doesn’t pull through.
I won’t think about that.
On the second day, Lydia walks in. She looks around, spots me and Mattie, and walks toward us.
“Hello, girls.”
Mattie looks up from her copy of Seventeen. “Oh, hey. I think I’m going to run to the cafeteria to get a pop. Do you guys want anything?”
I shake my head. Lydia does the same.
Mattie gets up and leaves. Lydia sets down her purse and takes the empty seat. I fix my eyes on my sneakers.
“I suppose I owe you an apology,” I say, remembering how I hinted that Lydia might have had something to do with Scotch’s death.
“Don’t worry about that now.”
We sit silently for a few minutes.
“I want to tell you why I came back to Iowa City after all these years,” Lydia says, playing with her sleeve.
I think it’s a strange time and place to choose to come clean to me, but I’m up for anything that will take my mind off what’s happening right now. “Okay.”
Lydia takes a deep breath. “There was a baby,” she finally says, so quietly I can barely make out her words.
“A baby? In California?” I picture the man she left behind. Did she leave a child as well?
“No. Not in California. When I was sixteen. After your father broke up with me to date your mother, I found solace in another man. He was older. Married.”
“Jesus,” I whisper.
“I . . . I couldn’t get rid of it. But I didn’t want anyone to know. So I left.” She grabs a couple of tissues from her purse and blows her nose.
“I don’t understand. Why did you decide to come back to Iowa if your kid is in California?”
Lydia dabs at her eyes. “She’s not in California. She’s here. I went away for the duration of the pregnancy. The man confessed the affair to his wife. She was furious, but they’d been trying to have a child for a long time. She made him a deal. If he agreed to never see me again, they would take the child and raise it as their own. That girl at the diner, Melody? She’s my biological daughter.”
My jaw drops as I take this in. Despite my discomfort with the idea of Lydia dating my father, I can’t help but feel sorry for the pregnant teenager who felt she had to leave her family and then give away her child.
“So why did you come back now? You could have come back anytime over the years. You could have seen my mother before she . . .” My voice trails off.
“Believe me, I wish I did come back earlier. I was just so ashamed. The fact of the matter is that I got engaged this year. He’s a wonderful man. Better than I deserve. But I just couldn’t do it. I kept remembering the baby girl I left behind. That’s why I came back. Guess I needed some closure before I could move on with the rest of my life, you could say.”
Lydia reaches out to hold my hand.
I let her.
“I would do anything to go back and tell your mother how much I loved her. Our fight was so stupid, and we let it ruin us for way too long.”
I think of how hard it would be to learn that a loved one died without ever knowing how you really felt about them.
I start to cry.
It’s been three days.
Three days of camping out in the waiting room, drinking coffee from the nurses’ station, and flipping through the same old magazines.
Three days of watching people get good news and bad news, breaking into tears either way.
Three days of no news about Rollins.
Mattie snores in the chair next to me.
My father walks into the waiting room.
He.
Is.
Smiling.
A moment ago, my heart was in a million pieces, and I was pretty sure I’d never have the strength to assemble it again. Even though I don’t really believe in a god, I was begging whoever was out there to please give me a chance to say good-bye to my best friend. I wanted to hold his hand and feel the pulse beneath his skin, just one more time.
But now.
My father is smiling.
I open my mouth, and a strangled sound escapes. Adrenaline pours through my veins, and I leap to my feet. I turn, finding Mattie, who is jumping up and down. We crash into a hug, and I start sobbing.
Now I can cry.
“Can I see him?” I beg my father.
He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Yes. He’s still very groggy, but you can see him.”
Following him back to Rollins’s room, I can’t stop grinning through my tears.
I will never stop.
The door is ajar, and I push it open the rest of the way. It smells like medicine and blood and survival.
Rollins is pale, his lips almost colorless. They took the lip ring out, and he looks naked without it. His eyes are closed, but his chest is rising and falling. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
I’m wrong, though, because then he opens his brown eyes and sees me standing there, and his lips curve into a smile. It takes my breath away.
“Hey, you,” he says weakly.
I want to rush forward and press my lips against his and then kiss his eyelids and the warm spot just behind his ears, but I’m afraid I’ll disturb the cords that poke out from his body. So I just step closer and take his hand.
There’s a lot of things I want to say right now, but they all seem too serious and morbid. Instead, I look at his chest, which is wrapped in bandages. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah. They’ve got me on some pretty decent drugs. Your dad hooked me up.”
I force a laugh. “That’s good.” My pathetic attempt at laughter turns into a sob.
“Hey,” Rollins says softly. “Come here.”
He pulls me into a hug. I’m careful to avoid pressing against his wound.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whisper. The words don’t seem like enough. They don’t express what I really mean to say. Finally I figure it out, and I say the right words.
“I love you.”
Rollins traces his finger along my jaw and brings me close for a kiss. It is soft and gentle and perfect.
“I love you, too.”