Waiting

Content warning: car crash, illness

Hisses of air and soft, irregular clicks echoed down the hall, antiseptic, mothballs, and a chill filling the room. Goosebumps prickled on Amanda’s skin. The colors of the bedding, the walls, and her grandfather’s skin blended together in a haze of beige and white, but the sharp corners of her little red dress stood out starkly, scrunched up between her fingers. Her father’s hand reached over to squeeze her arm, callused fingers pressing little pale ditches just above her wrist, a necessary measure of comfort in that alien environment.

“Mandy, baby, come ova’ here,” her grandfather drawled. It was his voice, stringier, hoarser, but his voice nonetheless. His body, though, was not his, tucked away beneath thick blankets, his skin mottled and sloughing off his bones, everything just slightly off, as though he were molded of melting clay.

She approached, breathless, and her father released her arm. Reaching out, she placed her hand over her grandfather’s. A thin line of rubber rolled against her palm, almost lost in the wrinkles of his skin. However foreign that cold skin felt and looked, the warmth of his smile was always familiar. 

***

Amanda stared down at her hands. She didn’t remember when they got so large, when those moles appeared, when the veins began to stand out blue against her rosy wrists. Wringing her fingers, she refused to look up, for the moment; the clock sat frozen on the wall, as did the others in their matching inoffensive chairs. 

One or two newcomers wandered in, exchanges when their predecessors heard their names finally called. The sounds of the hospital blended in a homogenous mass of mechanical whispers, a perfect blank slate over which her thoughts played on a loop.

***

“Oh, Betty. Marry me.” 

Betty rolled her eyes, prim lips set in a faux reluctant grin. “Sarge, every morning you ask, and the sentiment only lasts until you finish that coffee.”

“Oh, but ’til then…” Greg let out a huff. “Also, it’s Lieutenant, now.”

The lovely aroma of the coffee wafted into the air, and he felt the tension fall from his shoulders. He shut his eyes, leaning his head against the cool glass of the porthole window, not yet warmed by the sun's rising rays. He sank into that familiar warmth, raising the mug to his lips. 

A crash, louder than a gunshot, shook the diner, and he whipped his head around. The mug shattered, coffee spilling across the floor. The clock’s hands ticked to seven o’clock, relieving him of his duties. He stood, nonetheless. Night shift be damned.

***

Ted wrung his hands, waiting for the light to turn green. The reliable sedan’s check engine light flickered, and the ticker indicated just enough gas to pull into the lot one block away.

He wore his best suit- that is to say, his only suit. Faded linen, creased despite the starch, with hems just a half an inch too long and shoulders a mote too wide, it was a hand me down from his older brother. ‘A good luck charm,’ apparently, to aid in the job hunt. So far, it hadn’t worked.

But this was the last day on his lease. The last light before the office. The last stage of interviews before a formal offer. The last day of collecting unemployment before the start of his new career. 

He just had to go. 

The light switched to green, and he dropped his foot on the gas, accelerating into the intersection with a cautious exhale. 

The screech of tires and a crash of metal on metal caught his attention, but as he turned his head, he only saw his reflection in the glass, just before it shattered on impact. 

***

In the parking lot, Amanda tossed her cap in the air, tassel flying upwards, caught in the light summer breeze. She felt like a child again, in the best of ways. No homework, no burdens, no troubles, only a giddy job for the future ahead. Her father caught the cap, and replaced the tassel.

“Don’t wanna lose that, Mandy.” He handed the cap to her, inclining his head. She grabbed it, and he stopped walking. She stopped beside him, as he placed his opposite hand over hers. For the first time, she noticed the spots over his skin, specks over his uneven tan. “Baby, I am so, so…”

She looked up at her father, and matched his smile. They had the same crooked front teeth, a little space between them. Noticing a little twitch at the corner of his eyes, and a quiver in his voice, she pulled her old man into an embrace. 

“I know, Dad, and I couldn’t have finished without you.” He sagged in her arms, and she choked, tears welling up in her eyes. “And…”

His full weight collapsed into her, and she dropped to her knees. Separating from him, she saw the pallor of his face. Eyes half shut, cheeks drained of color, lips parted in the memory of a smile.

“Dad?”

Faintly, she heard a classmate gasp. 

A voice called out, “Someone dial 911!”

Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.

***

Amanda looked up, taking in the faces around her. Nearly all bore the same expression, some mix of hope, doubt, worry, and a calm borne of a lack of any other option. She wondered if her own face betrayed the last little feeling flitting around in her own heard- guilt.

It was the children, though, whose faces perturbed her the most. Every one appeared, to some degree, confused. Not quite aware why Mommy looked so odd, the children only knew something was wrong in their little worlds.

***

Aaron growled at the wheel of his truck, swerving through the lanes, avoiding the idiots below driving under the speed limit. It was always on days like today, when he was late to a hearing. That the slowest drivers in the state decided to-

The light ahead flicked yellow, and he was less than a mile from the courthouse. If he made this light, he wouldn’t be late, and that bitch Monica-

From out of nowhere, a tiny blue sedan came to a stop at the light. He slammed on the brakes, but-

***

Lily took off her heels, debating whether to carry them, or simply toss them in the bin at the corner. They were thirty even after last month’s BOGO sale, but they were also the absolute perfect red for a night out- just not the morning after. She bit the inside of her cheek, casting a swift glance over her shoulder, though she knew full well that John- or was it Jim?- likely still had not finished his morning shower. She opted to sling the heels over her shoulder, lugging them by the straps as some rave-esque bindle.

Without a proper crosswalk, she had to judge the crossing from a hungover perspective. The perpendicular street’s light turned yellow, and she saw her chance to go before the parallel street’s green light would send a line of turning vehicles careening into her path. She took her chance, and speed walked into the road, noticing an incoming blue sedan as it approached.

Looking up at the driver as they slowed, she locked eyes with a woman who could have been her, in another life. Bloodshot eyes not from a restless night out, but a restless night in, caring for the red faced toddler screeching in the passenger seat. She offered a sympathetic smile to the woman, as the car stopped, and the driver turned.

The car lurched forward. Everything simply stopped.

***

Amanda saw a new man enter. He walked up to the front desk, clutching something in his fist. He mumbled, “Jack. Here for…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering. They met Amanda’s, and she averted her gaze, as did he. She heard his footsteps on the linoleum as he retreated to a corner, taking a seat among the others in purgatory. After a moment, she looked up again, and saw him staring down at the thing in his hand.

It was a napkin. Crumpled and greyish, it bore an emblem matching a stamp on the back of his hand, with the bleed through of ink from the other side. His eyes fixed upon it, as though nothing else existed but those numbers from the night before.

Her eyes drifted down again, and she felt suddenly conscious of the alien nakedness of her left hand, bare and empty. A woman in scrubs called out a name, and the man- no, the boy- stood, and followed the nurse into those swinging doors.

***

Amanda stared down at the formerly white dress, hiccuping between bouts of hysterical laughter. “I swear, Paul, I had like, one glass. If that!” The lanky man in the tux quirked an eyebrow. “I’m serious!”

“I’ve seen you drink grape juice left out a little too long and end up on the floor. Point is, you puked, passed out, and now I want to make sure my wife isn’t gonna get her stomach pumped on our-”

Amanda erupted into giggles again, and tossed her arms in the air in surrender. “I’m sorry! But who the hell wants a dry wedding?”

Paul took a seat by the examination table and rubbed at his temples. “Christ, Mandy. I know you’ve got that thing about hospitals, but I’m worried about you.” 

Amanda leaned down and kissed his hair, styled perfectly, unlike its usual shaggy mess. She pursed her lips, and reached a hand over to ruffle his hair into a satisfactory disarray. “Last time I was in an ER was… well, I’d rather manic than panic, ya know?”

He met her eyes, and the door opened. Both turned to see the resident, with one hand resting on the doorknob, as he offered an exasperated smile. “Good news, your blood alcohol looks to be well below danger levels, kidney and liver function's all normal, y’all are both going to be fine. You can head on out, just stay away from the parties for now, alright?” He turned to leave.

Paul stood. “If everything’s fine, wait, why’d she, well…” He gestured to the greenish stain trailing down the front of her gown. Amanda felt her cheeks flush. 

The doctor gave the groom an odd look, as though he had asked why water was wet. He then met Amanda’s eyes, and all she could offer was a quiet exhalation with a questioning smile. The resident’s brows lifted, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“You know, it’s not too frequent I get to be a part of happy occasions, but God is it nice when that happens.” It was the newlyweds’ turn for an odd look, as the bemused doctor beamed. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

***

Amanda stole a glance at her phone just as it buzzed.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

***

Rory the rhinoceros accompanied Davie to every stressful appointment. Shots, family therapy, custody hearings, school pictures, church, he was Davie’s constant comfort. A gift from Mommy from before he could remember, Rory embodied Mommy’s love even when she couldn’t be there.

Stephanie wasn’t Mommy, and to her credit, she didn’t try to be. She was Daddy’s new friend, and Davie’s friend too, and they held a mutual respect for the limits of their well defined if restricted relationship- at least, as great an understanding as a five year old could muster. 

Today, however, Rory was missing. Back at Mommy’s house, or maybe still in Daddy’s car, he might as well have been on the moon. And Davie had to go to the dentist.

Stephanie gripped the steering wheel as Davie wailed in the backseat. “I’m so sorry, buddy, but Rory would want you to get that cavity-” Davie only wailed louder, and Stephanie clamped her mouth shut.

Focusing on the road, she noticed a pedestrian, a lucky single girl in a cute pink dress. Stephanie slowed to a stop, letting the girl pass. They shared a brief, knowing look, and Davie stopped crying. Stephanie turned to smile back at the boy.

In that moment, she saw three things: an empty carseat, Davie, climbing into her lap, and the truck.

***

Amanda sighed. “Listen, bud. I promise I hate it here more than you. So if I can be here, you can be here too. Okay?”

The boy, barely taller than the seat of the chair his mother sat on, smiled up at her wordlessly. He held out one small, stubby hand, and Amanda took it. He offered her a little squeeze of comfort, and all her fears melted away. 

Dr. Jillian entered with a genuine smile, and gasped upon seeing the pair. “Peter! Oh my goodness, you’re almost as tall as me now, you’re getting so so so big!” 

The boy bounced a little, offering a giggle of greeting.

“So I hear we’re having an itty bit of trouble potty training, is that right?”

Amanda nodded, dropping her son’s hand. “Uh, yeah.”

“Alrighty! What seems to be the issue?”

“He just… doesn’t go. His, uh, bowel movements seem fine-”

“POOP!” Peter interjected with a maniacal cackle, prompting a stifled laugh from the doc.

Amanda's cheeks flushed a deep red. “...Yeah. His poops are fine. But he doesn’t ever seem to… make water.”

Dr. Jillian nodded, still smiling. “He only ever uses the diaper?”

“No,” Amanda shook her head, “I mean he straight up rarely goes, if ever.”

“I see, I see. Well, there’s any number of causes- dehydration, a UTI, watering the grass-” Peter laughed at that. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it. I wouldn’t worry.”

Amanda let out a long breath. “Okay. So process of elimination?” She looked down to see Peter tapping her knee, eyes wide and adorable as always. Reaching down, she picked him up, and plopped the boy in her lap. He leaned back against her, snuggling into her chest. 

Dr. Jillian waved a hand. “To start, is there any history in the family of kidney disease?”

***

Amanda’s eyes fixed on a couple sitting across from her. Neither wore a ring, but they clutched each other with a familiarity she knew all too well, holding between them a red lump, some well-loved plaything. Tears streamed down the man’s cheeks, while the woman’s eyes glazed over, dry and unblinking.

She wanted to say something, anything. She knew who they were, they knew who she was. But what words could capture the thousand things that went wrong so that one thing could go right? If only it would go right?

She stayed silent. Her eyes tracked over to those double doors, waiting for the inevitable. Time passed, the way it always does. Far too slowly, then all at once.

The nurse appeared beside her, her voice thick with a comforting southern drawl. “Amanda?”

“Yes?” Her own voice came out cracked and thin, a glass about to shatter.

“It’s your son.”