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CALISTA
“HERE YOU GO.” I HANDED Jules some of my special peppermint hot chocolate with a shot of coffee. She’d texted before five this morning, saying her dad had taken a turn for the worse. So, I came in before my shift to check on her. I’d spoken to his doctor the day before and the prognosis wasn’t good. Her father’s brain was swelling. But it was risky to perform a decompressive hemicraniectomy, which is to remove part of the skull to reduce the pressure in the brain.
Jules gratefully took the cup and held it between her hands, savoring the warmth. The dark bags under her eyes said she hadn’t slept all night. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her gaze drifted toward her father lying in the hospital bed, tubes and machines keeping him alive. He was a tall man with a broad chest and shoulders, and a thick mane of silver hair. But he looked like a shell of a person. He’d fallen into a coma, which wasn’t a good sign.
The only lights in the darkened room came from an overhead lamp and the glow of the datascope measuring his vitals. The steady beeping was a familiar tune to me.
“You know, many coma patients report being able to hear familiar voices. It’s comforting to them.”
“What if he doesn’t wake up?” she croaked out.
I pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. “Then I will mourn with you.”
She took a sip of the caffeinated peppermint hot chocolate before saying, “You don’t know what that means to me. My mom and sisters aren’t taking it well. Worse than me. They want the doctor to remove part of his skull to see if it will help. What do you think?”
“Honestly?” I was afraid to give my opinion.
She nodded.
“The truth is many stroke patients who undergo decompressive hemicraniectomy still die from the brain swelling.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she cried.
I patted her back, wishing I had better news for her. Sure, I had seen plenty of miracles during my time as a doctor, but often the kindest thing to do was just to be honest about the odds. “I’m sorry, Jules.”
“Don’t be. I’m sorry for texting you so early. I just needed a friend.”
Didn’t we all?
“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to.”
“Still, you have to be exhausted working extra shifts this week.”
“It’s one of the perks of the job.” I grinned.
She softly laughed. “And treating your ex, right?”
I’d checked on her last night before I left and told her all about giving Tristan stitches yesterday. “Too bad that wasn’t my only encounter with him yesterday.”
She faced me and tilted her head. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” The poor woman had better things to worry about than my ex making wild claims about still being in love with me. Especially since before that, he admitted he’d left me because I was too much and he didn’t want me to impede his lifestyle. Tristan had no idea how much his words killed me, even after all these years. I had a hard time sleeping because I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Basically, he’d given me up because I embarrassed him and he loved money. He really was Ebenezer Scrooge. If I was lucky, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come would pay him a visit and throw him in a grave. Then I wouldn’t have to be friendly to him anymore for the sake of Quinn.
She nudged me. “Come on. Remember, I love trivial.”
I smiled. “Well, this is probably a tad more than trivial.”
“What happened?” She sounded concerned.
I gave her a brief overview of last night’s revelations.
She blinked, surprised. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“What are you going to do?” Jules asked.
“I’m just going to play nice in front of my niece. Other than that, I plan on avoiding him.”
