All We Can Do Is Wait(40)
“What, what was it? What happened?” he asked, notes of panic rising in his voice. “Alexa? Are they here?”
Alexa shook her head, pulled away from Scott, smoothed her shirt. “No, no. It’s Skyler. Skyler’s sister . . . They took her back there.” She pointed to the ominous doors. “I don’t think it’s good news.”
Jason ran both hands through his hair, letting out a long exhale. “Oh. O.K. O.K. That’s . . . O.K.”
Scott thought he saw a quick brightening in Jason’s eyes, some spasm of relief. It was oddly comforting to see Jason reacting externally the same way Scott was inside. Maybe Scott wasn’t such a bad person after all. Maybe it was natural—unavoidable—to feel this way. Of course, tragic news could still be waiting for him, for all of them, but they weren’t out of the game just yet. There was still hope, still a chance.
Morgan had been hanging back, but then she approached the group, gave them a timid wave. “They took Skyler back?” she asked, and Scott said yeah, that it probably meant nothing good. Morgan shook her head. “Not necessarily. I mean, they might just not want to, y’know, give her good news in front of other people. You know, out of, like, respect.” Scott knew she was right, of course.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Alexa said, nodding a bit too vigorously. “Yeah. I mean, maybe it is good news. They took you back there to tell you about your dad, right?” she asked Morgan, who looked down at her feet.
“Yeah, they did. But, like, I know them here, so . . . I don’t know. I’m just guessing, really. I don’t know how all this works.”
Jason made a sound. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like anyone does,” he said, gesturing toward everyone else milling about the waiting room. Scott realized that the crowd had thinned. Other people must have gotten their news and Scott hadn’t even noticed.
“This is a mess. It’s all a mess,” Jason muttered. Something caught in his voice as he said it, and Scott felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. Maybe Jason was only just now realizing the gravity of the situation. “It all just fucking sucks,” Jason murmured, and despite himself, Scott burst out laughing. Then Morgan did too, Jason even giving a little half-grin.
“It really does, man,” Scott said with a sigh. “It really does.” Alexa stayed quiet, only sniffling a little more and crossing her arms over her chest. Morgan cleared her throat.
“You know,” she began timidly, “my mom used to work here, like right in the ER, right where we are. And when I was little, she wouldn’t tell me about all the really bad stuff she’d seen. ’Cause she must have seen, like, the worst things—people who’d been shot or burned or whatever. She never talked about work, unless it was, like, about some annoying co-worker or something. I guess maybe she talked to my dad about it? But I never heard it, if she did. And one day I realized that maybe she didn’t have to talk about it because, for all the bad things she saw, there was good stuff too, you know? They save people here. Like, all the time. Maybe . . . maybe most of the stories here actually have happy endings?”
She smiled wanly, and the others returned the gesture. Scott nodded. “That’s a good way of looking at it, I guess.”
“But it’s probably bullshit . . .” Jason muttered. Scott was about to snap back at Jason, to stand up for Morgan’s little pep talk, but Morgan laughed.
“Oh, it almost definitely is,” she said. Jason laughed too, and then even Alexa was laughing, snapped out of her funk for a second.
“I mean, it’s probably a fucking nightmare here all the time!” Jason said.
“All the time!” Morgan yelped, looking like she might cry—from laughter, from fear, from tiredness. It was a desperate moment, but it also felt good to feel a little giddy, a little punchy, Scott realized.
They stood like that, the four of them laughing to stave off the fear. Scott thought that it felt a little like a team huddle, like they were ending a time-out, catching their breath one last time before heading back into the game. He closed his eyes for a second and wished himself back to one of those thrilling afternoons playing soccer, lungs screaming, hair sweaty, muscles burning. Then he heard Alexa say “Oh my God,” and opened his eyes in time to see Skyler walking through the double doors, Mary Oakes behind her, a hand on her shoulder. She said something to Skyler, who nodded and gave her a tentative, awkward hug. Mary Oakes pulled back, nodded quickly, and then disappeared once more behind the doors.
Skyler looked over to them. It was clear she’d been crying. “Oh my God . . .” Alexa whispered again, breaking the huddle to walk over to Skyler. Scott followed, as did Morgan and Jason. If nothing else, if Kate was dead, they were here for Skyler. Maybe that counted for some tiny something.
Alexa was the first to reach Skyler. She gave her a big hug, Skyler bursting into tears, Alexa saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Skyler shook her head—seemingly unable to comprehend the loss she’d just suffered—and said, “No, no, no.” Alexa kept hugging her, until Skyler gave her a light push back, said, “No, she’s O.K. Kate’s O.K. I was just with her. She’s going to be fine.”
Alexa blinked at her, then turned to Jason. “She’s O.K.?” he stammered out.
Skyler, bleary and smiling now, blubbered, “Yeah. Yup. They said she’s going to be fine. I mean, she broke her legs really bad and is gonna need a lot of physical therapy, but it’s not life-or-death. She’s O.K. She’s O.K.”