1929, Part 2

My brother ran up to the van, I think to put a jar inside because they wouldn't let him take it inside. I got out and trumped back down to the emergency room entrance so I could get signed in. A security guard looking fellow asked my name and turned a camera at me briefly before stealing a photo I wasn't prepared for. I'm smiling, but I think I was for his gratification.

Besides him, I think everyone was generally nice there. They smiled and I tried not to look so hurt. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and went to room 20.

When I got there, I leaned against the wall outside my room and received a text from an unidentified number, saying "Do you want me to call you?"

It was, well, my ex. Jordan. I told her no. I told her what was happening and I was typing faster than my phone could keep up, so she got a lot of typos. I told her how I was shaking and I was terrified. She was so supportive and it really sucked, but I avoided talking about us or what happened or why and just focused on getting the attention I needed and trying to sort out everything. She sent me a picture of the puppies her dog had.

I went to the bathroom at least four times when I was there. I was crazy jittery, plus I didn't want my mom to know I was texting that much. I knew she'd suspect it was Jordan, since I hadn't texted anyone like that for a month. People were walking the halls with masks on and Tyler said he saw a convict receiving treatment with his orange jumpsuit on. The flu was spreading and I wasn't washing my hands after I pissed.

They took him out for a CAT scan, and I was able to go into the room. Mom's eyes were read, but more like when someone's had no sleep versus like someone who's been crying. She kept asking me all night "Tell me what's going on." I'd give her the same stupid shrug and keep staring at the walls or at my phone or at the medical supplies.

The nurse walked in and said "Let me just take this," referring to one of those rolling pole thingies that usually sport a camera or little bags full of medicine, and she was replacing the old one with a new one "In case he needed fluids."

I told her "Oh, but I was emotionally attached to the first one." She stopped, looked at me really puzzled like. My family and Chelsea were looking at me too. "Yeah, I mean, the new one's cool and all, but I'm so used to the original."

The nurse laughed and then I can't really recall the rest of the exchange, but she totally took my original rolly thingy away, which was so uncool.

My brother laughed and, to the room, said "Such a flirt!"

I looked to Chelsea, with that stupid 'I'm here for you' smile on her face, and replied "What can I do? I was built this way," and then I ran off to pee again.

During this time, Jordan had told me how she'd come closest she'd ever come to killing herself. She said she can't take a bath without looking at the razor on the shelf or take her medicine without considering filling her palm with anti-depressants and having a meal. She told me breaking my heart was a mistake. She also said she had to support her sister and herself on six hours a week. I told her I'd drop groceries off at her door so they could have a home cooked meal, suggested that I cook something (because I'm a stellar cook) and leave it there. I said "You wouldn't even have to see me."

I felt myself leaning back into my guardian angel role. I was becoming myself again. I was yearning to give her love and attention and to make her feel beautiful, especially knowing that she had no luck finding any men and she felt ugly and she gained thirty pounds. She said she started a Sugar Daddy profile and hadn't gotten a single message. Part of me was happy about that, but what can I do, I'm a bit of a prick.

They rolled my dad back in. It was somewhere around 10:45pm. I couldn't remember how long we'd been there. It was hard to look at him. He'd look down at me through his crocodile eyes, these artificial things that had dropped off the actual him and picked up scraps of someone else. I couldn't bear it. Bare? I don't know.

There was this moment somewhere between funny and horrific, when he said "I almost said shit."

Mom tried not to laugh and I giggled a little. I said "But you just said it."

Chelsea had walked in. I'm sure she was laughing too. He said "I was paraphrasing."

"You were paraphrasing yourself?"

"Yeah, I wasn't cussing because I was saying what I said. I didn't say s-h-i-t."

"Okay Dad."

Apparently, a few members of the family and my pastor were on their way to the hospital. I texted furiously, trying to distract myself from the possibly life changing something outside my head with the most definitely life changing thing inside my head and I felt guilty and ashamed and I was flirting the whole damn time because, hey, that's what I do.