chapter 18 - do better

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Grayson:

I was internally panicking when Rowan mentioned my dad.

In the past, the word was light and fun. The sentences it was used in never made me feel worried, or scared, or want to curse the world for shitty luck like it does today.

Talia recognized my mood change in the car. My voice became quieter, more clipped. I spoke with the purpose of extracting the most information out of Rowan as possible. I knew she noticed the way my whole body paled, the blood rushing to God knows where. If she took my hand in hers like I secretly wanted her to—for comfort purposes—she would have felt cold skin. It would have only made her more worried.

I regretted leaving Talia standing alone in her driveway. I knew her eyes were watching me as I sped down her street and out of sight, racing to my least favorite location in the entire world.

The hospital is five miles from Washington D.C., so I could have easily gone straight away when driving back from the museum. It was the next exit after I hung up the phone on Rowan. I just didn't want to burden Talia with the fucking idea that my dad is fucking sick and is probably going to fucking die before he fucking gets to see me play a fucking game of basketball for fucking Duke. Excuse my language.

I don't need to share my problems with her. I'd rather keep her mind clear and happy.

The speedometer reaches 85 miles per hour as I cruise down the highway, back the way I just came. I merge over two lanes to the right at the last minute to catch my exit. The red lights make me anxious. The green lights make me worry, because I'm one signal closer to my location. Left, right, right, left, right—I shouldn't know these turns by heart at eighteen years old.

After parking in the neighboring parking garage, I sprint to the front entrance of the hospital, my mind already preparing for the worst. A defense mechanism so I don't become disappointed if the news is bad.

The automatic doors slide open at my arrival and I walk calmly into the waiting room. There's too much open space when everything feels like it's closing in.

Sophie, my oldest sister, notices me first and immediately gets off of her chair to hug me. On any other day I would have pushed her away from me, claiming she's being annoying, but I know today is different. So I hug her back.

"Have you heard anything?" I whisper as we pull apart. I try to ignore the tears brimming in her eyes.

She shakes her head and releases a wavering sigh. "No. He's been in surgery for an hour now."

"What happened?" I ask, even though I'm not sure I really want to know.

A tear falls down Sophie's face. "He had a heart attack, Grayson. It ruptured something in the process, I have no idea what, but they sent him into surgery. A helicopter from Philadelphia is flying in with a donor heart."

My eyes widen at the news. The story Rowan told me was very brief: my dad was escorted into an emergency surgery. Katie called him first because she didn't want to have to be the one to explain to me what was going on. I think she only said that because she didn't want me to hear her crying and panicking. "I thought he was further down on the donation list."

Sophie shakes her head, another sob breaking through her lips. "They had to move him up. It was serious enough."

I nod my head and push past her to find Katie resting her head on my mom's shoulder, both dazed and tired. My mom notices me first, gently lifting Katie's head off and walking to me, not wasting any time to pull me into a hug.

"Hi, baby," she whispers, squeezing the life out of me. That's probably not an appropriate thing to think at a time like this.

There have been three other scares like this where my dad needed to be rushed into surgery due to a complication, and each time does not get easier. I'm not comfortable around the people I care about crying. My mom is the hardest one to see.

"Hi, mom," I mumble into her hair. "Do you need anything?"

Her dark-brown eyes, the ones I inherited, are rimmed red, forcing me to understand that the crying has been continuous. "No, I'm happy you made it here safe. Now I'm just waiting for your other sister to arrive."

"Where's Viv?" I ask, suddenly realizing my third sister isn't here with us.

Sophie is now sitting next to Katie, the older with a computer in her lap, furiously typing away while the other leans against her. She works as an editor for a newspaper in Washington. Sophie has always wanted to be a writer, but had to give up the dream when my dad lost his job due to insufficient work—you know, because he was in the hospital all of the time. Bullshit. I remember my mom crying that night, wondering how her insurance could possibly cover a spouse. The medical bills soon piled on the kitchen table and every member in the family needed to contribute. It was shitty luck.

"She's at work," my mom continues. "I told her to stay there. All we're doing it waiting anyways."

Waiting is the worst part. Every time a doctor comes in sight, you think it's time for news to be delivered. Another name gets called, another thirty minutes passes, and the process repeats.

It hurts.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I say, sliding a hand through my hair. She nods her head quickly and I turn around, walking with my head down to the restroom. I try to ignore the fresh sobs from my family echoing through the hall.

Everything hurts.

I shove open the bathrooms door and find it empty. Thank God. I place myself in front of the sink, already feeling a tear fall down my cheek. Don't cry don't cry don't cry, I repeat to myself as I glare into the mirror. Katie always tells me I'm the strongest one in the family for never allowing the sadness of everything flush over my body. The truth is, I just don't let them see my tears.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in and release a shaky one. My stomach flips inside of itself in fear when the bathroom door swings open. I try to brush away the loan tears quickly, but my hands are unstable, only rubbing the salt water into my face.

"Gray."

I look up into the mirror and both Jake and Rowan stand behind me, their pupils still slightly dilated from the after effects of whatever they were smoking when they called me.

I turn on the faucet, making sure it's on cold, and splash the water across my face. They don't need to know I've been crying. I brace my hands on the counter and lean forward, staring at them through the mirror.

"Why are you here?" I grumble, confused by their presence.

Jake walks behind me and squeezes my shoulder. "We wanted to be here for you."

"I'm fine." I shrug his hand off of my shoulder, not caring for the contact at the moment.

"You're not fine," Rowan chimes in. Turning around to look at him, I suddenly notice how pale and distant he is. Being here isn't hard on only me, but also him. "I know what this shit is like, Gray."

I swallow, trying to push down my fear. Rowan's younger brother Caleb died of leukemia a few years back. Rowan was a very protective older brother of eight-year-old Caleb, and we had to watch the disease ruin both of them. Sometimes when Rowan arrived at school, red-blotched eyes and cheeks appearing on his face. Jake and I never knew what to do, or how to comfort him. We were just a bunch of thirteen year olds completely disconnected from reality. Being back in a hospital for Rowan is probably replaying harsh memories in his head.

"I don't like the feeling," I admit, my eyes rimming with more tears.

Rowan pulls me into an unexpected hug. "I know."

Jake's hand find my shoulder again, and this time, I don't push it off.

***

We all waited there for hours. Sophie, Katie, my mom, Rowan, Jake, myself, and the latecomers Daniel and Vivian.

It's quiet.

Once every hour, or sometimes even more, one of us would claim to have to use the bathroom, but return with red, swollen eyes. None of us spoke about it, not wanting to think too much about that particular emotion and need to make the bathroom excuse themselves. I used the excuse one more time. My mom went the most with a total of five trips.

It's currently 11:30 PM, which means my dad has been in surgery for around eight hours. I grow nervous thinking about how long the surgeons are taking. I wish medicine was as easy as snapping your fingers and the person would be instantly healed.

A doctor dressed in dark blue scrubs and a white coat enters into the waiting room. "The family of Peter Summers," he reads off of a clipboard.

Our ears perk up at his name, all of us standing up from our chairs at once. Only my mom steps forward to the doctor, her being the designated listener of information.

They're too far away to make out what is being said, so we fidget in our spots. Katie's two hands hold one of mine, both slightly sticky with sweat. Her heart beat can be felt through them.

Nods exchange between my mom and the doctor, giving away nothing. Finally, after my heart feels like it will explode, she turns around. A smile graces her lips, and I know it's going to be okay.

I sling my shoulder around Katie as she sobs with relief. My eye burn, tears threatening to find their release again, but I hold them back. This day was too stressful for all of us and we all needed it to be over. My mom stops in front of us to repeat the news.

"He's fine," she begins while happy tears fall across her face. "The heart was accepted by his body and he's now asleep in recovery. They said we can see him now that the sedative is wearing off."

"Thank God," Sophie whispers before running and pulling my mom into a tight hug. Whispers run between our family, each of us thanking the strange luck that has been brought to us tonight.

"Your family can follow us, Mrs. Summers," a voice interrupts.

A nurse stands in front of us and gestures for us to follow her. I turn to Jake and Rowan, the latter shaking his head and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I don't want be in another hospital room, Gray," he says. "I'm sorry."

I nod my head in understanding, knowing that he would want to be there for me if it didn't bring him stress. "Don't be sorry. You two go home, I'll tell my dad you were here."

"Bye, Graysie-boy," Jake says, reaching a hand to ruffle up my hair. I pat the strands back down and roll my eyes.

"Bye," I grumble before turning on my heal and running after my family.

I catch up to them quickly, following Vivian's foot as it passes through a doorway and into one of the hospital rooms. Laughter soon erupts from the room. I pause, standing still in the hallway unable to move. For a moment, everything feels normal: there's exchanging of excited words followed by laughter. Then I remember why were even in this building in the first place. The negative side of my brain tells me not to feel too much hope.

Crossing into the room, the laughter continues to echo against the four walls. Some bits of stifled cries still exist. But we're happy.

My family crowds in a semi-circle around my dad, who I assume is sitting up in the hospital bed. They part like the Red Sea, revealing him in all his glory. White bed sheets covering his legs, an IV inserted into his arm, countless monitors surrounding his bed—these are all items that make my heart sag in my chest. Until I see him with his familiar smile. Like nothing has ever changed.

"Look who decided to show up," my dad announces from his post.

I'm a lucky and unlucky person. Lucky, because I have an undeniably close relationship with my dad. One that a father can only dream of with his son. We have spent numbers of late nights together watching basketball games. If I needed help with my math homework, I would let him sit with me at the kitchen table and yell with frustration when I couldn't figure out how to add basic fractions.

Unlucky, because someone wants to take him away from me.

"Hey," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.

He rolls his eyes and waves his hand, as if casting me aside. My dad addresses the rest of the family. "I get out of surgery and all this guy got to say is 'hey.'"

The room once again fills with laughter, my dad already resuming his position as the family's comedian. I can't help but smile and take a step deeper into the room, letting the happy atmosphere consume me.

My dad points at across the room towards Viv, who is resting her hand on top of her stomach. "How's that baby cooking?"

"She's doing great, dad," she says with a wide smile. It lasts a second before Viv's eyes expand a fraction.

A gasp exhales from my mom. "The baby's a girl?"

"Fuck," Vivian grumbles into her hands, clearly upset she slipped up and revealed the gender, something she originally told us she didn't want to know until birth.

"Language," my dad says as a response.

Daniel slides a reassuring arm around his wife's shoulders, pulling her in and kissing the crown of her head. "Ah, and you were doing so well, Vivie."

"How long have you known?!" my mom exclaims, overjoyed about another female being added to the family. As if there weren't enough already.

"We've known since the second trimester," Viv shares, coming to terms with the secret she has revealed.

My mom pulls her second daughter into a tight hug. "I'm so happy about this. Boys are difficult."

"Hey," my dad, Daniel, and I say at the same time.

"Oh shush, I'm only joking."

She's definitely not joking.

***

Our family conversation continues for another hour. We exchange light jokes, update each other with our lives, and finally make the difficult effort to say goodnight and goodbye.

"I'll be back in the morning, Peter," my mom says to my dad, leaning over his bed and gently kissing his forehead, almost as if he will break at her touch.

He looks up at her, displaying an award-winning smile. "I'll be counting down the hours."

"Stop it with that corny shit," she says, rolling her eyes.

The whole room lightens even though we're leaving for the night. "Language," we say in unison.

My mom huffs and turns on her heal to leave, silently leading us out of the room. One-by-one, we say our goodbyes to my dad, who smiles at each of us. A hug for Sophie and Viv. A manly handshake for Daniel—which actually just turns into a hug. A secret handshake for Katie that they created when she was younger. And then me.

Everyone else has filed out of the room, already heading to the parking garage without me, leaving my dad and I alone.

"How did your date go?" he immediately asks when no more footsteps can be hear from the hallway.

"I told you it wasn't a date," I say, shoving my hands into my pocket so he doesn't notice my fidgeting.

He just rolls his eyes. "It sounded like a date based on how you explained it."

"Well, it was just for a school project."

"Well," he says, throwing my word back at me, "you still seem to talk about her a lot."

I pull up one of the blue-cushioned chairs next to his bed, my face heating red. I might have originally said that no one knows about the feelings I have for her, but my dad is my best friend; I naturally tell him everything.

"I know," I mumble up at the ceiling.

I can only imagine the face he is making at the moment. Probably something between a look of I'm-always-right and kind understanding. "Tell me what you two did. You said she wanted it to be a surprise, right?"

"We went to a museum in Washington." I don't mention anything else, possibly wanting to keep some of the memories to myself. The hand holding, personal tour, and picture I hold onto, replaying the moments to bring me comfort.

"Mhm," he hums, contemplating whether or not to push me further. "Do you still feel the same for her?"

"Yeah." I lean forward in my chair and rest my elbows on my knees. What an absurd question. Of course I still fucking like her. Nothing I do can stop it.

My dad smiles up at the ceiling before turning his head to look at me. "You're pathetic."

"What?" I breathe out.

He rolls his eyes. "You have been talking to me about her forever. Even when you dated those countless amount of girls—for very stupid reasons—you still tell me how she's in some of your classes, or you see her smile in the hallway, or whatever the fuck she does that catches your attention. What is it you kids call it these days? You're whipped?"

I feel my face turn red from everything he is saying. Maybe it was a bad idea to share this stuff with him, even though it feels good to share it with someone.

"Look, Grayson," my dad continues, reaching out to rest a hand on my shoulder. "You're graduating in three months, and then everyone is going to go their separate ways. If you really like her you need to try harder. And besides, if that is not enough to convince you, I would like to meet her before I leav—"

"Dad...," I interrupt, his words reminding us the reason why we're in a hospital. Things feel too real.

"Grayson," he repeats in the same tone. "Just do better or you're going to regret it later in life."

I stand up from my chair, not wanting to talk about this anymore. "It's getting late. I should go and you should rest, dad."

He gives me a lopsided smile—the one I inherited from him—and nods his head. "You're my favorite son, so don't forget that."

"I'm your only son," I say, rolling my eyes.

My dad laughs and settles himself on the hospital bed. "I was hoping you wouldn't catch that."

"Goodnight, dad." I hold back my smile as I lean down to give him a hug. This family is full of huggers, and a goodbye wouldn't be complete without one.

"Goodnight."

***

When I walk out of the hospital, I take a deep breath as my dads words wash over me. Try harder. Do better.

Some things aren't that easy; but thinking of her all day long is.

I open my car door and slide into the drivers seat. Just hours ago Talia was in this car with me, and it felt like heaven. It took us a while to finally start a conversation, but once we did, I never wanted her to stop talking. Sitting here makes me want to hear her again.

As I turn my head back I notice the peanut butter cup she gave me before I drove off to the hospital. At the moment, I felt like I was going to throw up so I never ate it. Right now, the candy feels like a sign. A sign that I actually do need to hear her voice again, just so I can feel comforted for the night—well, I guess morning.

It's 1:15 AM and I'm reminded that I forgot to text Talia to tell her I'm alright. She probably already went to bed, forgetting that I was supposed to text her; but that annoying part of me just wants to hear her.

Try harder.

I pull out of the parking garage.

Do better.

And I drive towards Talia's house.

Twenty-three minutes later I park in the street opposite to her house and begin to think this is a bad idea. What if she's not home? What if her parents are home? What if she's not

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