Chapter 20

Did you perhaps wonder why I love bombed y’all last chapter? Maybe you should have…

– Sen.

I was kneeling on the ground in my room, digging through my “hidden” box of books in my closet. I was looking for one in particular, of which I could only recall a snippet of the dialogue and a glimpse of the cover. Suddenly, my bedroom door burst open, ricocheting off the wall from the force as I jumped in surprise and scrambled to shove the box back into place and pull the closet door closed. However, I realized it was only Kaylee. Except, she was crying – no, sobbing, clearly very distraught. I rose to my feet, my brows furrowed in worry.

“Kaylee? What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked in confusion.

“He-he-he-,” she stuttered, tears streaming down her cheeks and onto her neck. “Car crash-,” she gasped, clutching at her chest.

“What…? Car crash? He who, Kaylee?” I questioned, walking closer and grabbing her shoulders.

“Dad!” Kaylee cried. “Dad! Car crash! He’s in th-the hospital!” She hiccuped.

“Dad? Is he okay? Is he- do we go to the hospital?” I asked. I was in utter shock, a plethora of thoughts flooded my mind. I was concerned for both Dad and Kaylee – she was a mess. How bad was he?

My bedroom door opened again, and Ivory walked in. Her expression was equally concerned but much more composed compared to Kaylee’s at the moment. Her eyes flicked from me to Kaylee as she let out a weary sigh.

“Yeah…Dad’s in the hospital. They called Mom, she went down there, and she’s really freaked out. We don’t know much yet,” Ivy briefed, biting her lip and placing her hand on her chin.

“Well, what do we do? Do we go to the hospital? What- what car did he crash? Is he okay?” I asked quickly.

“Should we go-?” Ivy began.

“Yes!” Kaylee shrieked abruptly. “Yes, we’re going to the hospital!” She said firmly. Ivory and I glanced at each other as she let out a weary sigh, rubbing her forehead as she turned and headed for the stairs.

“We’re going to the hospital,” she murmured exasperatedly.

Soon after that, we were all in Ivy’s car, no music, barely any talking, just silence and the car engine. When we finally pulled up to the hospital, bland colors were pasted onto signs giving directions for parking lots and buildings. We pulled up, finding a parking spot, and sat there for a while with nerves running while Ivy got a hold of Mom inside the building. As soon as she turned eighteen, Ivory had bought her own phone, despite the fact that Father didn’t approve.

Eventually, Mom picked up, her voice tinged with tears.
“Mom?” Ivy asked. “We’re here, are you okay? How’s Dad?” She questioned.

“H-he…they say he rolled- his car rolled and…his head- there’s something wrong, he’s having a brain bleed-” she inhaled sharply, abruptly pausing, a gentle whimper heard from her side of the phone as she attempted to hold herself together.

“But they are gonna be able to hel- save him, right? With surgery?” Ivy asked quickly.

“They- they just said they don’t know, he’s been unresponsive nearly the entire time, and he has other injuries. I-I think he’s in surgery right now? Said they couldn’t wait,” she hiccuped. “…What will I do if I lose him? We…” she trailed off.

“Mom….Mom, don’t say that, you won’t…we won’t.” Ivy said softly, leaning back in her seat, chewing on her nails, an old nervous habit. Kaylee looked at me with wide, frightened eyes, welled with tears.
*************************************

“Eve?”

“Ellie…”

I was standing at her front door, eyes red and puffy, my hands clasped in front of me, lip still quivering. I fell into her with a gentle sob, wrapping my arms around her neck and tucking my face into her shoulder.

“Hey…” she murmured, holding me tighter against her, blinking in surprise, cradling my head gently. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” She asked.

“‘M not even supposed to be here,” I hiccuped, closing my eyes tight, tears already slipping down my cheeks and seeping into her shirt.
“Shh, that doesn’t matter,” she sighed, still holding me against her. “What’s wrong?” She insisted.

“Dad-,” I hiccuped.

“What did he do…?” She asked slowly.

“Car crash,” I sobbed. “And we don’t know how bad and he’s in surgery, and -” I rambled anxiously, my knees going weak as she hauled me back up. She held me against her, cradling my head to her chest, her face twisted in an unreadable expression.

“He’ll- It’ll be okay,” she whispered against my hair, taking a shallow breath. “It’ll be okay, Eve…” she murmured. I hiccuped, burying my face closer against her skin, her warmth enveloping me as she slowly maneuvered us inside the house, the temperature inside much more enjoyable than the one outside. I surrendered myself to her arms, trusting her completely while she got us situated, talking soft in my ear, her voice alone making the pit in my stomach slowly mend, the dark abyss seemingly lightening. As Ellie and I sat on her couch, I did not even register time passing. I just laid on top of her, my cheek pressed against her chest, listening to her soothing heartbeat and her gentle breaths while I stared off, my lashes cold and wet with tears.

Eventually, Ellie’s mother entered the house, closing the door behind her with a weary sigh, making both Ellie and I perk up.

“Ellie, did Eve tell you-,” she cut herself off, suddenly noticing me laying on the couch on top of Ellie, my face puffy and tear streaked. Her expression became sympathetic as she let out another sigh, slowly walking over.

“Oh, Eve, sweetie,” she murmured, and her tone told me all I needed to know. Oliver was a nurse at the hospital where Dad was admitted. She had most likely heard about the case, names were familiar around here in a small town. “How are you?” she hummed, walking over and having a seat on the edge of the couch. Ellie adjusted lazily, scooting back a bit to allow more room for Oliver to sit.

“Do- do you know anything about him?” I asked hopefully. “M-Mom was having a difficult time getting them to talk, do you…?” I asked hopefully, awaiting an answer.

“Not much, unfortunately. I just heard about it – or overheard about it. Car crash, brain bleed, some stuff broken, and unresponsive at the scene, but…I don’t know much more than that, sweetie,” she huffed, drawing her lips into a tight line, her eyes soft as she tilted her head. “I’m sure he’ll…they’re doing their best, sweetie, I’m sure,” she murmured, slowly patting my hand.

“Yeah…yeah, that’s all we know, too. They keep saying they’re “assessing the damage,” or whatever, nothing straightforward, other than telling us he’s having surgery for the brain bleed…” I sighed, slowly looking off. I was worrying myself sick over this and all I could think about was Mom’s words – What will we do if we lose him…? It flooded me with guilt, any time I had been defiant, rude, disrespectful, they came like a tsunami of memories. They’re right when they say you never realize what you have until it is too late. The spite between father and daughter is strong, but the love, I would like to believe, is stronger.