Page 35
Levi
Daddy’s half out of his wheelchair, one arm hanging useless at his side, his face twisted wrong. April’s frozen in the hallway, eyes wide.
“Call 911,” I bark at her, already dropping to my knees beside him. “Now!”
His breathing is shallow, labored. I check his pulse—too fast, irregular. “Daddy, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
Nothing.
“Is he dying?” April’s voice cracks. She’s got the phone but her hands are shaking too hard to dial.
I take it from her, punch in the numbers while keeping my other hand on Daddy’s wrist. “Possible stroke at 412 Elm Street. Male, sixty-two, history of respiratory illness...”
Momma’s on Daddy’s other side, stroking his hair. “Don’t you leave me, William Nichols. Don’t you dare.”
The next twenty minutes blur together. Paramedics. Oxygen mask. Stretcher. Momma climbs in the ambulance with him while I grab April.
“Get in the truck,” I tell her. “We’ll follow them.”
At the hospital, we sit in hard plastic chairs while Momma paces. April hasn’t let go of my hand since we arrived.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” she whispers.
“Yeah, Cricket. He’s tough.”
But I’m thinking about how light he felt this morning, how his bones seemed hollow like a bird’s. I’m thinking about how I know what a dying man looks like, and Daddy had that look.
Hours later, a doctor emerges. “Mrs. Nichols? He’s stable. Minor stroke, but we caught it in time. He’ll need to stay a few days.”
Momma sags with relief. April starts crying. And I just feel empty.
“Can we see him?” Momma asks.
“Family only, two at a time.”
April and Momma stand up automatically. Of course they would. They’re family, and, even here, I’m the afterthought. I’m surprised at how much bitterness is still in me after four years away. “You two go,” I say, even though they haven’t turned to check to see if I am a contender to see him. “I’ll wait here.”
After they disappear through the double doors, I pull out my phone.
I sigh and see that my friend Kevin is available on one of my messenger apps. It’s barely eight in the morning here, and Okinawa is thirteen hours ahead. I put in my ear buds and hit the call button. He picks up on the second ring.
“Buddy!” he says, his lean face lighting up at the sight of me. I feel a wave of consolation just to see his face. “I was expecting that we would rebook getting together while I was stateside, but things just got crazy. I’m really sorry.”
I know he is. He texted me a lot of apologies. “Daddy just had a stroke. Minor one, but we’re at the county hospital.” I glance up as a nurse walks by, and realign myself.
“I’m sorry, man. Is he gonna be alright?”
“Yeah, they think so.” I lean back against the wall. “Did you hear about how fucking stupid I’ve been recently? Like, I met the guy of my dreams, genuinely. I think he was the one.”
And then I tell him everything: the museum, the sunset, the rescue, the way he said my name like it mattered, and then how it all came crashing down.
“Jesus,” Kevin says when I finish. “Three days? That’s all it took for all this to happen?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“No judgment. Look, I fell for Monica in about thirty seconds, and that was a disaster. But bud, you gotta admit, you do this. You go from zero to nesting mode faster than anyone I know.”
“I just want to have a family of my own. What’s wrong with that? And this was different. It wasn’t nesting. I can’t explain it, but it was.”
