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Byron

I don’t know why anyone would choose to work in a hospital. I’m beyond thankful for the doctors and nurses that do, but I can see how this place could suck the soul out of you.

The longer I sit here watching emergency patients get rushed by or the sick kid taking a lap around the floor with their parents the more convinced I am that Lola made the right decision to change career paths.

I sat down with Coach last week and explained the situation with my dad. How I was grateful that Oliver’s dad was able to get him this appointment so quickly. I didn’t even ask if it was okay that I skipped practice to go, he told me I had to be here.

Coach Stevens has always preached that family comes first and I’ve never been more thankful that he is a man of his word than I am right now.

During the last week Lola has been my rock. Dinner’s been ready for me every night after practice. She listened to my anxious ramblings that I’m not even sure made any sense, without batting an eyelash.

Before this week there was the lingering sense of doubt I had about our relationship, that maybe this was just rebound for Lola.

It was pretty convenient that we had to drive down separately from the rest of the group.

All of that doubt has evaporated with how she’s simply just been there for me this last week.

“Do you want a coffee or anything? My dad has an espresso machine in his office so we can skip that weird vending machine coffee they always have in hospitals.”

Reaching over the armrest that separates our chairs in the bleak waiting room, I wrap Lola’s hand in mine. When she realizes what I’m doing she pulls her hand away but I latch on anyway.

“I don’t care that your hands are clammy,” my voice is shaky. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

I told Lola that she didn’t have to come. I didn’t want her to miss a day of classes this close to finals, but she insisted that she was going to come. I’m thankful that she did otherwise I would be sitting in this depressing white waiting room by myself.

There’s an analog clock above the nurses station that tells me my dad’s appointment started only twenty minutes ago. The second hand just ticks and ticks and ticks.

“Want to go for a walk?” I ask her.

“Dad said they have to do a bunch of scans and it’s going to take a couple hours.”

I lean in and whisper so the other family members in the waiting room can’t hear me, “I can’t just sit here and wait, it’s kind of depressing.”

Without saying a word Lola get’s up with her hand still in mine. She navigates the hospital like someone who’s been here a thousand times before.

For the first time since we got into the city I feel like I can breathe. The cool autumn air is a reprieve from the stale hospital we’ve been sitting in.

“Okay Ms. Philly what’s there to do around here?”

She does a quick survey of our surroundings.

“Let’s go get a coffee and walk around Temple’s campus. That way we can get back quickly if we need to.”

“That sounds good.” The words come out unsure. The thought of having to come back here quickly can only mean my dad’s situation is worse than we thought.

It’s only half a block before we find a local coffee shop. The walls are lined with Philadelphia sports legends. The world is full of girly trendy coffee shops I think is a testament to why we need more male inspired ones. This place is dope.

Extra large coffees are glued to our hands– partly to keep them warm– to sip on during our walk through campus.

Lola’s being uncharacteristically quiet. The lack of conversation heightens my anxiety. I thought it had maxed out when we were in the waiting room, but watching Lola’s tongue poke into the side of her cheek unsure of what to say makes it worse.

Lola’s moody, but she’s rarely quiet. There is always some kind of a sarcastic dig or she’s going on about some new book she’s reading, speaking so fast it’s impossible to follow the plot.

Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pull her into my side. It’s remarkable that our steps are so in sync. The height difference should make that impossible but sometimes things just work despite all the outside factors saying they shouldn’t.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Lowy?”

When she doesn’t react to the nickname I squeeze her hand.

“I’m going to ask you a question, but just know I’m doing it because I love you and I want you to be prepared for whatever they might tell us when we get back.”

She sips her coffee leaving a little lip gloss stain on the rim.

“Have you thought about what might happen if we don’t get the news we hoped for today?”

“What do you mean?”

She keeps her eyes on the leaf laden path.

“Are you going to be okay staying at school?”

The context is written clearly between the lines. We both know she means, would I be okay staying at school living out my senior year while my mom takes care of my dying Dad.

“I’ll support you no matter what you choose, but I just want to make sure you’ve thought everything through.”

There’s a hitch in my step, it throws everything off and before I can recover Lola is already a step ahead of me.

I always knew there was a chance my dad was going to die.

To be permanently out of my life before we’ve had the chance to really know each other.

I’m not sure how I could stay in Westvale knowing that I might never see him again.

Two hands land on my cheeks forcing my head to the left.

“Hey is everything okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute there.”

“Um, sorry I guess I was realizing there is a lot I haven’t thought about.” The words sound like they’ve been strangled out of me.

The apples of her cheeks flatten when she realizes that she’s given me more to think about.

“My dad texted me and said we should get back to the hospital.”

Lola tries to keep the conversation light. She asks me about our games this weekend and if I think the Jets are really going to beat the Bills this weekend. Normally there is nothing I love more than talking about our little AFC East rivalry, but today I only answer in grunts.

My jacket is stripped off the moment we step in the elevator.

It feels like I’m in a sauna with the devil himself.

I rub my hands down my pants praying that Lola doesn’t try to grab one and realize how clammy they are.

The number on the elevator slowly ticks up.

It’s an eternity before it reaches floor fourteen.

All of a sudden, I feel like my shirt is strangling me so I tug on the collar a couple of times like it’s going to open my airways.

Lola reaches for my hand, pulling me away from the door.

“Whatever the doctor says, I want you to know that I’m here for you. If there is something you need to get off your chest, but you don’t want to burden your mom with it you can tell me. Please don’t hold all your emotions in, okay?”

The back of her hands run down my cheek. The simple gesture reminds me to breathe.

“It’s not healthy to hold everything in.”

I nod in agreement.

This room is even more depressing than the waiting room. The beige walls are covered in generic posters you’d see from some decor catalog.

My parents sit facing a backlit screen. Dr. Adams and the oncologist stand on either side of the screen.

“You guys got here just in time,” Dr. Adams informs us. His expression is emotionless.

I gravitate to the open spot next to my mom. Dark circles cloud her normally sunny, sky blue eyes. Her foot taps the ground, a nervous tell that goes back to my youth hockey days.

My dad sits looking at the scans. His facial expressions are harder to read. If he has a tell, I don’t know what it is. He looks awfully stoic for a man who spent the last two hours getting poked and prodded.

I tune out all the medical talk. The doctor points to the hazy scans. My medical knowledge might come from Grey’s Anatomy, but I don’t think the image before us is supposed to look that cloudy.

“I’m sorry Arie.”

My shoulders sink as my mom’s grip on my hand tightens.

“There is nothing we can do.”

A strangled cry fills the silence. Lola rubs her hand up and down my mom’s arm, trying to sooth her as her hand flys to her mouth trying to keep her crying under control.

“We’ll do whatever we can to make you comfortable.”

“How long?” My dad asks. The words lack any emotion.

“I’d say two to six months.”

He takes a deep breath, the first of emotion I’ve seen from him since Lola and I got back to the hospital.

“Let’s make the most of the time we have, okay?” His glance shoots back and forth between my mom and me.

I grip my mom’s hand and give it a squeeze.

“Yeah, we are going to have the time of our lives.”

For the first time in as long as I can remember I pull both my parents into a hug.

“I love you guys.” The words come out naturally without a second thought.

For the first time I hear a muffled cry from my dad.

“I love you too, Byron. I’m sorry it took this long for me to come back into your life. We were supposed to have so much more time.”

“We can’t change the past. No regrets, okay Dad?” I sit up straighter wanting to make it clear that these words are how I truly feel.

“You did what you could. All that matters is the here and now.”

My mom buries her head in my dad’s shoulder, but her sobs give her away. My dad’s eyes grow soft. He mouths thank you over her head.