Would You Rather

35 - WYR: with or without

FINLEY

Your sister took a bit of a fall tonight.

I manage to get out of the hotel, seeing red, seeing white, I'm not sure. I manage to get out of the hotel and onto the street and I manage to breathe through it, the sting of the wind against my cheeks, freezing my tears to my skin as I walk forward, no distinct direction in sight.

We weren't going to call you because of your presentation tomorrow, but she took a pretty big hit to the head. As of right now, her wrist is broken and she's not waking up.

Dani will be fine, right? Dani is always fine. She always pulls through. This isn't it. It can't be it. She has to make it. I'm not done researching yet. I haven't figured everything out yet.

The doctors say that she likely suffered a concussion. Because of the pre-existing damage, and I'm sure you already know this, it's just going to be a harder recovery than usual. They're hopeful that she's going to be okay.

Hopeful.

Hopeful doesn't mean shit to me. Hopeful isn't my sister recognizing me when she sees me. Hopeful isn't my sister being able to play me in monopoly again. Hopeful isn't a number on a stats line that's clearly showing improvement. Hopeful isn't solid evidence. Hopeful is just a thing your brain does when something or someone you love is so injured you don't have anything the hell else.

We're in Regina with her at the moment. It's all looking stable for now, but you know how this works. If needed... um... if needed, there are a lot of flights that go directly from Winnipeg to Regina. We hope you won't need to fly back when you're driving back for tomorrow night.

She's right, there are a lot of flights.

I stumble into a 24/7 diner, pushing open the door and breathing in the warmth and the sticky smell of pancakes.

"Take a seat anywhere." There's one guy behind the bar, scrawny with a weird mustache. "I'll get to ya eventually."

I sit in the corner, looking down at my hands, keeping my coat on, just looking at the table that won't let my skin slide across it, a glossy finish over what might be wood, I'm not sure.

We'll call if anything happens, but try to settle in for a night of sleep now... um. It all looks alright for the moment. Nick and Jack are still on the farm. We haven't told Brodie yet, he's the next to call. Um... do good on your presentation, okay? Don't... don't let this throw off how hard you've worked on that project, okay?

I slide my hands around my waist, pulling tight, trying to soothe myself in this dingy little diner, frost coming in around the windowpane I've got my temple against.

I love you, honey. You know that, right? Your Dad and I love you so much. Dani too. Keep dreaming big, okay, hon? We'll... we'll call if you... um. Oh, God, I never thought I'd be here again. This is such a terrible place to be. This is such a horrible, horrible place to be.

We love you, honey. Please, please, please stay safe. Please.

My phone vibrates and I grab for it like it's on fire, answering it before I even read the caller ID.

"Finley."

I choke, my older brother's voice filling the tinny speaker. "Brodie."

"You okay?"

I nod against the window. "I'm as okay as I can be."

Deep in the gut of what I guess are now the Shaw Tables, there's a line I have highlighted in purple in my own copy. Not in the copies I have shared with the hospitals, but with my own copy.