By the time I'm on the road, I've lost track of the ambulance. There's only one hospital for twenty miles, so I head straight there. The roads are eerily abandoned, as if paving the way for me to speed right through the night. A few miles pass, and my phone rings. It's only then that I realize I've been out of the house for much longer than an hour.
I answer my phone and flip it onto speaker, slamming it into the dock on Emma's center console. "Mom?" I ask and wipe my eyes. Something about seeing her name on my phone makes this feel more real, more consequential, bigger than anything that has ever happened before.
"Carter, you better have a good excuse for—"
"It's Emma."
"What?" She must hear the panic in my tone, because hers changes immediately.
"She collapsed. I'm going to the hospital."
"Is she there with you?"
"No, the ambulance has her. I'm following in her car." I drum my fingers on the wheel as I roll through a stop sign after looking both ways quickly. There's no headlights in any direction. "I don't know what happened," I add. My voice is a crushed whisper in the dark.
"I'm on my way." There's a pause on the other end of the line as she lets out a huff. "What have told you about using your phone and driving?"
"I know, but this—"
"I love you, Carter. I'll meet you there." She hangs up from her end, and my phone beeps from the disconnection. I want to laugh and cry, because this is exactly how my mom would react. All business and heartfelt at the same time. My gut twists, because this is real. It's not some alternative reality; this is happening.
Emma collapsed, and I have no idea what's wrong with her.
My fingers tighten on the wheel, and I clench my teeth. Rage boils along my limbs, and I want to blame her parents for this. The bruises on her wrist, how timid she acted combined with how out of control she was. I don't want to think her parents are hitting her, but that's where my brain keeps going.
Emma, who has never hurt a single person in her life. Emma, who gave me a chance despite all the odds. Emma, who trusted me enough to offer me that part of her, even if it wasn't the best decision at the time.
It's not right. I chew on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. It's coppery and bitter. I turn onto the last stretch of road, and the streetlights grow closer together as I approach the hospital. The ambulance is already gone, presumably onto the next emergency. I pull into a parking space for visitors and cut the engine. I breathe once, twice, and try to pull all the tendrils of myself back together, pack myself back up into a human skin that is supposed to contain all of me.
The anger I have cannot be contained, though. It flicks out in sparks from my body, threatening to ignite the world around me with the viciousness I feel inside.
I slam the door shut behind me and march up through the entrance to the registration counter. The night nurse behind it gives me a cursory glance.
"Carter?"
"Yeah," I stumble over the word, because I thought I would have to explain it to him. I was ready for a fight, but this has thrown me off.
"They said you'd be on your way. We can't tell you anything medically, but I'll tell you she's alive. She got here, okay?"
I swallow. "You can't tell me anything?"
He shakes his head, a sympathetic half smile creasing his brow and lips. "I wish I could, kid, but regulations. It's patient confidentiality."
I curl my fingers tightly into a fist. "Can I wait?"
He nods. "If—" he cuts himself off. "When she wakes up, if she asks for you, you can visit her."
My jaw works, but Emma wouldn't want me to fight the hospital staff, not when the person who deserves it isn't the one sitting in front of me. I swallow hard, trying to smother the fire licking my skin. "Okay. Sure."
I want to tell him that of course she'll ask for me, but I turn away instead. I choose a corner of the waiting room, lit with bright burning lights that barely cast a shadow. I'm anxious, and my eyes flick to any movement happening between the staff. Whenever a nurse or doctor comes out, my ears hone in on bits of their conversation, anything to try to get information. Only one other person waits here, and their cap is pulled low over their eyes. For all I know, they are asleep.
Even as time passes and the staff comes and goes, I hear nothing about Emma. Nothing.
I switch between tapping on the end of my chair and rubbing my hands against my jeans. This is too much. There's a hollow ache rising inside me, worry over losing someone important. It gnaws at me.
Why did no one ever tell me it hurts to love someone this much?
Did my mom feel like this when it was my dad? Did she hurt like this when she waited at this hospital, waiting to hear what had happened to Adam? Will it end the same way for me?
I slam my eyes shut, because it can't end like that. I have so many things left unsaid, so many days that I want to live through with her in them.
As if being summoned by my thoughts, my mom walks through the automatic glass doors and looks around for me. Her eyes meet mine, and I stand up. I don't get more than three steps, because she charges at me and wraps me up in a hug.
"I'm here for you, Carter. I'm here." She grabs the back of my head and digs her fingers into my skin, pressing against me.
Something breaks inside me, and all the rage floods out through the tears I've been biting back. "She has to be okay," I choke out. "I can't—"
"Shh, I know." My mom rubs my back as I cling onto her. If anyone knows how I'm feeling right now, it's her. She's felt this pain before. She's been here, and that makes me feel even worse.
No one should ever have to go through this.
"I won't tell you it will be fine, but I am here for you, okay?"
I nod into her shoulder.
"No lies between us ever. I won't give you false promises I can't keep."
"I know." I pull back.
She wipes the tears off my face and presses her fingers softly into my shoulders. "Have they told you anything?"
"No, they said they can't."
My mom nods. "Let me see if I can get anything else out of them. You sit, okay?"
I find myself doing as she says, despite feeling a thrum of energy. I'm emotionally spent, but physically my adrenaline is still spiking hard. My mom wanders over to the counter and asks the night nurse some questions. She keeps a calm, even tone, but has a bit of command behind her voice.
My eyes wander outside the large windows, and I watch as the flashing lights of another ambulance roll up. Two people jump out the back and wheel an older man in on a gurney. He's hooked up to some kind of oxygen and keeps reaching for something, though I don't know what.
"We have you, Mr. Sams. We'll make sure to inform Susan about what happened."
"Please," his voice comes as a harsh whisper.
The EMT leans over with a small curve to his lips, almost looking conspiratorial. "If she doesn't drive herself here, I'll get her. I'll drag her if I have to." He winks at Mr. Sams, and that makes the older man settle down. They wheel him the rest of the way through the double doors, calling out some numbers to the awaiting hospital staff. In another few moments, they come back outside and jump into the ambulance, heading off again.
Like clockwork, efficient and fast. As quickly as they come, they go, but they try to save lives. And maybe tonight, they saved Emma's too.
My mom sinks beside me and lets out a harsh breath. "Well, I didn't get any more information, but I got his number."
"What?" I gawk at her.
"I didn't ask for it. He gave it to me." She pushes her hair behind her ears and lets out a small laugh. It's more nerves than humor. "You'd think he'd know better than to ask under these circumstances, but I guess if you work in an ER, you don't really meet people at the best times in their lives."
My jaw is completely unhinged.
"Don't look at me like that. I haven't really dated anyone since your father, and well, maybe it's time." She shrugs. "But let's not think about that now. Let's think about Emma. She needs all the good vibes she can get." She grabs my hand in hers.
I let out a breath and press my eyes shut. "I don't know what to do now."
"We wait, and we'll keep waiting. We'll wait as long as we need to."
I swallow. "What if waiting feels like the wrong thing?"
"What feels like the right thing, then?"
"I don't know. I feel like I should be doing something to help her."
"Carter, you know—"
"There's nothing I can do. I've done all I can. I'm doing all I can. I know. It's a broken record inside my head, but I have this feeling there's something more I need to do." My foot taps against the ground.
"When you figure out what that is, we'll be here and ready. Do you want me to get us some coffee from the cafeteria?" She stifles a yawn. "I'm going to get us some coffee." My mom stands and squeezes my shoulder once more before taking off down the hallway. I don't miss the sideways glance the night nurse gives her.
I try to imagine her seventeen years younger, pregnant without knowing it, walking the same path to get coffee from the same cafeteria because she was waiting to hear the news about her boyfriend. Was Adam Ortese going to survive the night after the accident? He came to the hospital barely alive, which was more than his brother had. But it ended the same way. There was too much swelling in his brain, and the doctors said they did everything they could.
I take out my phone and think what I should say to Des. I need to tell him what's happening, because I'm freaking out in a way that my mom won't be able to fix, but Des might be able to. I type and erase my text numerous times, and I'm about to hit send when the sliding glass doors open again.
I don't need to know what they look like to understand who they are. Emma Williams' parents just walked in. I curl my fingers into a fist as I watch Henry Williams stomp up to the desk. I thought her parents would be wearing masks of concern, but that is not what describes the look on their faces. Henry Williams looks purely annoyed and full of rage. Her mother is resentful and somehow apathetic.
I should sit idly by. I should let this go. I shouldn't make a scene, because they haven't seen me yet, and for all I know, Emma's parents don't know what I look like. But I find myself standing up anyway, despite all the internal warnings screaming at me not to, and I walk straight toward them.
- - - - -
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What would you say to Henry Williams right now?