Shortness of Breath

Chapter Five

A/N: Hey y'all. Please excuse the highly frustrating erratic spacing in this story part. I will try to have that fixed as soon as humanly possible. Enjoy!
***

Casey - October Twelfth

"Mom, have you seen Roger?"

I located the lipstick I'd been looking for for the better part of the past ten minutes and used my reflection in the refrigerator to put it on. "What is Roger, Cooper?"

"Not what, who," he corrected.

"I'm sorry, who is Roger?"

Cooper may have answered me, but I was distracted by the sound of my flustered husband opening the front door, ten minutes after I thought he'd left for work.

"Casey, when is the last time you drove the Hummer?"

"The last time you let me, which would be, I guess...ninety eight, ninety nine?"

"Funny. I can't get it to start."

"And you think that I somehow caused that between the time you drove it home last night and right now? You probably left the lights on. Give it a jump."

"I didn't leave the lights on, and I already tried that. I need to take your car to work."

"Well that may pose a problem, Wilson, when I need to take my car to work in half an hour. I have to drive Cooper to school anyway. You're going to have to take the Metro to Union--"

"I don't have time for the Metro, I have a meeting in twenty minutes. I'm already late."

"Call an Über."

"Call Marla."

I sighed, and knowing that I was likely married to the most stubborn man in the contiguous U.S., threw him my keys. "Pick me up at nine."

He left without another word.

"What a charming sack of shit," my eldest deadpanned in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Emerson, that's your father," I reminded her, even though all I wanted to do was agree.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said without meaning it. "I forgot I live on the set of I Love Casey."

"Clever. If you're planning on going to shred paper with him today, you should probably run."

"I'm not," she informed me unsurprisingly. "And keeping in line with the promise that I'll be productive during my suspension, I'm going to a free art class at the community center at nine."

I nodded. "Okay. Sounds good."

"What, you're not going to question it?"

"Why would I? It sounds like a good idea."

"I could be lying," she pointed out. "The art class could be crap, I could be going out to get laid or get drunk or get high or all of the above."

"I trust you," I said, dialing my phone.

"No you don't," she said, but Marla picked up before I had to respond.

"Yes, Marla Caswell," she answered, sounding frantic and altogether in a hurry.

"Hey, Marla, it's Casey."

"Hey, Case," she said, not slowing down any. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you're already at the hospital--"

"Got here twenty minutes ago. They found a heart for one of my patients and it's on its way. We're doing the transplant as soon as it arrives, why? What do you--"