“Hi, Brenda. It’s Eleanor Hardwicke.” I pressed Lewis’s phone against my ear, hoping the whooshing in my head would stop soon.
“Eleanor...” Brenda’s voice became gentler still. “How are you?”
“Not great, to be honest. Can I please speak to Dad? Is he awake?”
Her silence lasted forever. With every passing nanosecond, it squeezed my gut a little bit more before going for my lungs, wrapping itself around them. “Brenda? Can you put me through to his room?”
“I’m so sorry, Eleanor,” she whispered, and instead of my blood running cold, it froze solid in my veins. “I’m afraid your father passed away last night.”
CHAPTER SIX
LEWIS’S PHONE SLIPPED FROM my fingers and clattered to the floor. My little remaining strength evaporated, turning my voice into a tiny, inconsequential noise when I tried to speak. I put my head back and let out a scream that sounded closer to the noise a wounded animal might make.
Within a heartbeat, Lewis appeared in the doorway. “Eleanor?” He saw the expression on my face, took three steps in my direction, his eyes widening. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“My dad. He...he’s...” The word dead wouldn’t come out, I couldn’t push it past my lips. Brenda had got it wrong, mistaken me for someone else because Dad wasn’t gone. Not now. Not like this. Not after the way I’d spoken to him and walked away.
“Jesus. I’m so, so sorry,” Lewis whispered. “When did it happen? Last night?”
As I nodded, he sat on the side of the bed and held out his arms. I collapsed against his chest, let him pull me against him as I sobbed.
“He can’t be,” I said, crying louder still, and when the reality of the situation slammed into me, the fact I’d never see Dad again, I let out another wail. “He was supposed to have four months. It’s what they told him. Four months. We’re not even halfway there.” I pushed Lewis away. “Why did he wait so long before going to the doctor? Why? It’s not fair, it’s not fair.”
Nurse Miranda must’ve heard the commotion because she rushed into the room. “My goodness, what’s going on in here? Is everything all right?”
“Her father passed away,” Lewis said in a low voice. He hadn’t moved, and I sank against him again, bunching his shirt beneath my fingers, hoping he could stop me from feeling as if I was suffocating in that godforsaken hospital bed.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Nurse Miranda’s face filled with pity as she pressed one hand to her chest. “I’ll give you some time and come back in a while, okay? Can I get you anything?”
When I didn’t answer, Lewis shook his head, and the door closed behind her. It took a long while for my tears to stop, but when no more came, Lewis helped me lie back down and handed me a tissue.
“What can I do?” he said. “How can I help?”
The compassion in his eyes, the fact this quasi stranger would offer any kind of assistance threatened to set me off into a blubbering mess again. It had been such a long time since anyone but Dad had showed me affection, I’d all but forgotten what it felt like.
“Is there someone I can call?” he said, retrieving his phone from the floor. “Shall I try your mom again? Maybe this is why she hasn’t contacted you? God, she must be devastated.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed. “Devastation isn’t in my mother’s range of emotions,” I said, and Lewis raised his eyebrows. “They’ve been divorced for almost twenty years and... Let’s just say it’s always been complicated between her and me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Families can be tough. What about a brother? A sister?”
“Amy lives in LA. We rarely speak.”
“Right. Look, are you sure you don’t want to call your mom?”
Lewis had no idea what I’d meant by things being complicated. I knew my mother hadn’t gone to see Dad out of concern for his health last night, that much had been evident from the conversation I’d overheard. She’d tried to make him change his will, leave the little he had to Amy. Now I’d taken the possibility away from my sister, and even through the fresh fog of grief, I could clearly see another reason for them to despise me. I remembered my mother’s words about how I’d brought on Dad’s collapse. She was right, it had been my fault. He’d died last night because of me. She’d never let me forget it. She didn’t need to. I’d never forgive myself.
“I don’t want to talk to her,” I whispered.
“What about your boyfriend?” Lewis said. “Or a girlfriend, maybe? There must be someone who can be with you. You shouldn’t be alone, not after what’s happened.”
I looked away, didn’t want to say there was no one to call. I’d only had a handful of relationships—all of which ended in disaster—and never had many friends. Telling him would have meant admitting how isolated I’d become, how alone I felt, despite trying to convince myself otherwise. It was of my own doing, I knew. I’d been hurt too many times, put down and let down far too often. Being alone was easier. Usually easier, but only because I’d had Dad.
Before I could speak, the door opened and a woman in a white overcoat walked in. A red stethoscope hung around her neck and she carried a chart of some sort under her arm. She came over to the bed and shook my hand, her long fingers cold as Popsicles, and in direct contradiction with the warm smile on her face.
“Good morning, Ms. Hardwicke,” she said with a hint of an accent. “I’m Dr. Chang. Miranda told me about your father. My deepest sympathies.” She paused, folded her arms across her chest and looked down at me. I fought the urge to cry again as I wished I could disappear, fade away to nothing—it would be penance for hurting Dad. I didn’t deserve Dr. Chang’s condolences, didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathies.
“I’ve got good news,” she said, oblivious to the turmoil going on inside me. “The blow to your head was quite severe and it had us worried, but your CT scan is clear. No signs of internal bleeding or cranial fractures. Miranda told me you woke up a few times during the night.”
“I don’t remember,” I said. “Not until this morning.”
“But it’s still great news, isn’t it?” Lewis said, squeezing my hand.
“Great news indeed,” Dr. Chang replied.
“When can I leave?” I whispered. “I want to go home.”
“Ah, not quite yet.” Dr. Chang shook her head. “I want to keep you in for observation for at least twenty-four hours, preferably until tomorrow morning. Get plenty of rest until then. Let us take care of you, okay?”