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STELLA:Dad’s in the ICU.

* * *

“It’swatch and wait at this point,” Dr. Ruiz said, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

The doctor was an older woman who looked like she’d be mom’s age if she were still alive. Close to retirement. She had her pen up against the lightbox, pointing at an x-ray of Dad’s lungs. It was two days after we’d first learned Dad’s home had found him close to unconsciousness, his lips blue from lack of oxygen.

“Pneumonia this developed can, unfortunately, be quite dangerous anytime in a man your father’s age. But with his comorbidities…”

The respiratory problems from his childhood. The smoke inhalation from when he lost his family.

Hank, Stella, and I looked at each other from behind our masks. They’d made us suit up to come in here and advised us that the fewer people who came in here the better, so our respective partners were waiting downstairs in the cafeteria.

Dad lay on the bed, a tube under his nose, a respirator helping him breathe. While he’d barely been conscious when they brought him in, now he was fully out, deep in a medically induced coma.

“If his counts are looking good in a few days we’ll try giving him a chance to breathe on his own, see how that goes,” the doctor said.

“That’s a good thing, right?” asked Hank.

“If he can do it, yes. If he can’t, he’ll go back on the respirator.”

She looked between the three of us.

“Now this is something I always ask—is there anything, any favored object or item your father might like to see in the event he wakes up and none of you are here?”

“We’ll be here around the clock,” Stella said.

“I’m afraid you can’t sleep in his room,” the doctor said.

Stella looked ready to fight, but I laid a hand on her arm.

“That’s probably a good idea, just in case,” Hank said.

“What kind of thing would Dad want?” I asked. “A carburetor?”

Stella, still looking incensed that she couldn’t sleep on the linoleum, let out a laugh. Even Hank smiled. I think; I couldn’t see it behind the mask.

Stella was crying, and I could tell Hank was trying not to.

Me, I was the hardened asshole who wasn’t. It wasn’t like I was feeling anything good or bad. I was just… numb. And what I wanted was to be far away from here. I wanted to be with Michelle and our girls. Never mind that mine were still in Florida for two more days.

God, I’d have to tell the girls.

“I’ll look around his place,” I said.

My siblings looked at me, not arguing. I could tell they were grateful. They’d needed their big brother to take charge.

But I needed to as well. Taking care of shit was the only useful thing I could think of to do right now.

* * *

“You okay?”Michelle asked as she handed me a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria. I took a sip, then nearly spat it straight back out again.

“I was, before this coffee.”

Michelle turned to me as we walked to the car after saying somber goodbyes to everyone. “You want to talk about it?”

I grasped her hand with my free one. “Not yet. But I will.”