Page 83 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

“Hey.” A rush of calm came over me at the sound of her voice. “I have a massive favor to ask of you.”

“Anything. What do you need?”

“My mother’s in the hospital and I have to run up there right now. If I can get Ollie in at daycare for boarding could you drop him off tomorrow morning?”

“Of course. I’ll let him out in the morning one way or another. And if you can’t get him in, I can bring him here.”

“Oh, thank you,” I sighed. “Thank you so much.”

“What happened? Is she sick?”

All of a sudden, it hit me, and it hit me hard. “She hit her head and is in a coma,” I said. My voice felt strained. I wouldn’t have thought in one million years I’d cry over something like this, but it was threatening to happen.

“Oh my God, Sam. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, although I was positive I wasn’t. “My dad called while I was at school and he didn’t say much.”

“Are you on your way?”

“About to get in the car. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’ll call about boarding,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about it. You go to the Bark Park, right?”

“Yes,” I whispered. We’d just gotten back together and all at once I felt kind of married. It was reassuring. “Thanks.”

“Drive safe and text me when you get in, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

I had to smile, although I felt absolutely raw. “Yes.”

By the time I let Ollie in, the tears had started. I didn’t know where they were from or why they were streaming down my face, but they were, and I took a moment to bury my forehead in Ollie’s short, silky coat. “I love you, old man. Be good for Lisa, okay?” I knew he would.

The car was still warm from coming home from school, but I was shivering anyway. I cranked up the heat and remembered to flip on the headlights halfway down the block. I was still swiping angrily at the tears and feeling completely conflicted.

I hadn’t spoken to her in two and a half weeks. She’d ignored all of my messages. And it was my fault. On the one hand, it only made sense that I was freaking out. My mother was in the hospital, I had no other information, and the last time I’d seen her she was horrified because of what I’d done. I should be freaking out. On the other hand, we had such a volatile relationship. She’d never been happy with anything I did, never been proud of me. I could never, ever be good enough, and while it wasn’t the only reason I was fucked up but good, it certainly hadn’t helped. I wished I knew how to feel, but I didn’t, so I snuffled and felt sick to my stomach and headed onto the highway.

I made it about an hour without stopping. I needed gas, I’d forgotten to pee before leaving home, and the dinner I’d had before proctoring the test wasn’t cutting it. I found a large travel plaza on a lonely exit, and pulled off. By then, I’d gotten my act together, but I still felt like shit. As I stood at the gas pumps ducking deeper into my coat, I took out my phone, wondering if I should call Dad again or if he’d just well at me and pretend like this wasn’t huge. I texted my brother again, more of the same. Are you okay? Please tell me what’s going on?

I used the bathroom, pulled a Coke from the cooler, and ferreted around the aisles for something that looked good. Nothing looked good, so I grabbed a bag of pretzels and a candy bar and waited in line to check out. Still nothing from my brother.

Before leaving, I sent one more text, this one to Vera. My mother is in the hospital in Illinois and I’m on my way up. I’m supposed to proctor tests tomorrow and Saturday. I’m not sure what to do.

To my surprise, Vera responded before I could get my seat belt on. I’ll proctor them myself, just email me the tests tomorrow morning. We’ll figure out how to score them. Don’t you worry about it though. I’ve got this. Good luck and be safe.

Thank you. I couldn’t believe I had such wonderful friends and colleagues. That just made me tear up again.

I drove in silence up Fifty-five through Arkansas and into Missouri. Past the fireworks stores on Fifty-seven, and over the river to Illinois. There, I continued through miles and miles of nothing. My speedometer pretty much sat at eighty-five, which wasn’t really that fast. I knew that if I got pulled over, it would take nothing at all to conjure tears. I saw no cops, though, just darkness obscuring fields full of dead cornstalks. Normally, I would have had a hard time staying awake after leaving town so late, but as the dash read ten thirty, eleven, I was still completely coherent.

As I neared town, I realized I didn’t know which hospital. Our family had usually gone to Good Samaritan for procedures, but Franklin was a lot closer to home. Off the highway, I texted Kevin again at the first light. What hospital?

This time, I got an ellipsis. Franklin. ICU. I’ll fill you in when you get here.

I had to use GPS to get there. I might have been able to find it when I was living there, but now that I’d been gone for so long, there was too much new shit to navigate. It was twenty after one when I pulled into the visitor parking lot.

I pulled my backpack with my laptop and piles of tests onto my shoulder, remembered to lock the car, and found my way to a large, marble counter draped with a red tinsel garland. “I’m looking for Helen Travis.”