Peter staggered back on the bed stunned as his mom started to cry.
“The TV was on a news channel questioning the landings.” His mom’s tone suddenly hardened. “I’m sure that’s what set him off and caused this.” She took a deep breath. “Peter, I’m so scared. I can’t lose him. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s my life!”
Peter tightened his grip on the phone as he lowered his head, wishing he was by her side to comfort her. “I don’t want to lose dad either. I’m sure all will be okay. You know how strong he is. I’m sure he’ll do everything he can to stay with us.” Peter took a deep breath before saying, “He doesn’t want to lose you either, Mom.”
“I pray you’re right, son.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s in the emergency ward,” she said. “We’re at Mission Hospital.”
“Keep me posted on any updates. I was scheduled to fly out early this evening, but I’ll get to the airport as soon as I can and take the earliest flight out.”
“I love you. Please hurry.”
“Don’t worry. Call me with any news.”
Peter hung up, and tossed his phone on the bed before he slumped over and put his head in his hands. Dad could die because of those damn lies. In disgust he grabbed one of the pillows and heaved it across the room. “Dammit!” Maybe I should take on the mission. Prove those assholes wrong. Peter lifted his head and looked out the window. But what if Dad dies? I can’t leave Mom. He was now even more confused.
11
9:45 P.M.
Peter arrived at the hospital later than he had hoped due to his flight being delayed out of D.C. As he raced his rental car into the parking lot he prayed he wasn’t too late. His latest update was his dad had been moved out of emergency and into the cardiac care unit where he had been going in and out of consciousness. The doctor in the CCU informed his mom the next twenty-four hours were critical, with the possibility his dad might not make it through the night.
Peter whipped the car into the first available spot and ran as fast as he could through the dark parking lot to the hospital’s main entrance. He rushed to the information desk and out of breath asked for the location of the CCU. The receptionist handed him a map and pointed out where he needed to go. Peter snatched the map and with a hurried “thanks” raced down the hallway.
He hustled through a convoluted series of hallways before reaching the last corridor. He slowed down to gather himself before turning down the hallway. As he approached the CCU lobby he saw a small group of people gathered together and realized one was his mom. She raised her gaze to him with a despairing look before a desperate smile crossed her face. She cried out, “Peter!” and rushed toward him. Peter dropped the map and hurried to her. She still had on the blood-stained blouse, prompting the horrific image of his dad unconscious and bleeding to flash through his head. He shook the image from his mind before giving his mom the biggest hug he could. She hugged back, whispering in his ear, “Peter, I am so glad you’re here.” She then broke down and cried.
Peter held his mom tight, gently rocking her. “I’m glad I’m here too, Mom. How is he?” He continued to hold her until she stopped crying.
She slowly backed away and looked up at him, her eyes puffy. As Peter gently wiped the tears from her face she answered, “It’s not good. I don’t think he’s going to make it. He’s still going in and out, but when he has been able to talk, he has been asking for you.” She grabbed Peter’s hand and said, “Come on, I’ll take you to him.” She wheeled around and briskly pulled him toward the CCU entrance. As he held her hand a chill ran through his body. He remembered back to that day when he was seven years old wearing Bugs Bunny pajamas, following his mother to watch Dad on TV. Back then she was leading him to witness one of his dad’s greatest triumphs. Today he was following her to see his dad for possibly the last time.
His heart pounded as they passed through the lobby. He briefly said “Hello” to the few family and friends gathered as he was marched by. He stopped his mom when he saw Aunt Virginia, in tears and distraught. She was devoted to her brother. Tom and Virginia were practically best friends growing up. Peter’s dad was always there to protect his sister. Peter felt it was his duty to comfort her and leaned over to gave her a brief hug while whispering, “Aunt Virginia, I am sure everything will be okay.”
She forced a smile.
His mom grabbed his hand and gave a tug. Peter squeezed his aunt’s hand before turning to follow his mom. They soon approached the CCU entrance and his mom powered through the small metal gate like she owned the place, ignoring the security guard who was obviously caught by surprise. The attendant blocked Peter’s path, asking for identification.
“Reggie, it’s okay, this is my son,” Anne said, scowling.
“I understand, Mrs. Novak, but I still need to see his ID and issue him a badge.”
Peter quickly handed the guard his ID.
Reggie reviewed it, then filled out a badge and handed it to Peter. “We are all praying for your father.”
Peter nodded in appreciation as he grabbed the badge and resumed following his mom. As he passed the nurses desk, he observed a horseshoe-shaped corridor wrapped around them. He assumed all the rooms in this corridor were CCU rooms. Each had a front wall made of glass so the nurses could see in them at all times. Peter swallowed hard as they cautiously approached his dad’s room and he peered through the glass wall in front of him. His dad lay in a bed, tubes and wires attached from machines all around him. Next to the bed was a lone metal chair. As Peter stepped toward the entrance, his mom halted suddenly and with an encouraging look motioned for him to go in alone. She squeezed his hand before turning and walking away. He drew a sharp breath before he eased himself gradually in. His quiet footsteps seemed to echo in the hollow room. No pictures of any kind decorated the walls. The sterile room was colored in a dull gray and glistened with bright shiny metal equipment. The room had no windows, just the glass front wall.
Peter froze in place in the center of the room, staring uneasily at his dad, who was slightly propped up with his eyes closed, a bandage wrapped around his forehead. The only sound in the room now was of his dad breathing, which sounded like he was struggling with every breath. The sound was depressing. Peter always saw his dad as this larger than life hero, strong and always in control. Seeing his dad lying there lifeless and looking so weak broke Peter’s heart. He tried to control himself as he moved toward the chair and sat. A thin white blanket covered his dad, his arms resting outside. His hands were balled up in fists, which Peter assumed meant he was in pain, struggling to hold on. Peter put his hand on the fist closest to him and squeezed. “Dad, it’s me, Peter.” No response.
Peter moved his hand around and slipped it under the balled up fist and cradled his father’s hand. He wrapped his other over the top and said in louder tone, “Dad, it’s your son, I’m here.”
Tom slowly opened his eyes and rolled his head toward Peter. His eyes were glassy, his lips chapped and dry. At first his dad had a blank stare that looked straight through him.
Peter struggled to stay composed as he said again a little more sternly, “Dad, it’s me, Peter.”
All of a sudden, his dad seemed to get some life in his eyes as they began to focus. A faint smile came to his face. He said in a very strained and raspy voice, “Thank you for coming.”
Peter, both hands still wrapped around his dad’s, squeezed and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” Tom tried to swallow, and Peter could tell it was tough for him. “Do you need some water, Dad?”