The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient #3)(44)

As she examines my dad, scrutinizing his vitals, making sure the IV and medications look right, she explains, “As I already told your mom …”

I feel like I step outside myself as she goes into detail regarding my dad’s condition. I hear her talking. I hear myself asking questions from a distance, like it’s someone else. I see her, my dad, my mom. I feel like I see myself, too, that clueless, ineffectual woman, even though it’s impossible. Quan is somewhere on the other side of the blue curtain. Dr. Robinson uses medical terminology that I’m not familiar with, but I come to understand that my dad suffered significant brain damage because he didn’t receive medical treatment soon enough after his stroke. The doctor doesn’t recommend surgery because of my dad’s age, and there’s little they can do anyway. He might not make it through the week. If he does, half of his body is paralyzed. His cognitive ability may be impaired. With the proper therapies, he might someday be able to talk, sit up on his own, and eat solids.

Does he have an advance directive?

My mom tells her no.

When the doctor leaves, a heavy silence descends upon us. I’m so overwhelmed I don’t know what to think or do. I think my mom feels the same. She must be waiting for Priscilla to come and take charge. We just have to wait until morning.

Fifteen minutes pass while we sit there, wooden and speechless, and finally I say, “Ma, you look tired. You should go home and get some rest.”

“I can’t. What if he …” Her face crumples, and she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“I’ll stay. If something happens, I’ll call you right away. You need to take it easy. You’ll get sick otherwise.” Adrenaline is running through my body, giving me energy that my mom has clearly run out of.

She thinks it over a moment, and I can see that she’s torn. She wants to stay, but today must have been horrible. She doesn’t look like she can take much more, let alone handle an all-nighter.

“Please, Ma. Home isn’t far from here. If you come right when I call, it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get here.”

She finally nods and gets slowly to her feet. “Okay, this way I can clean the mess at home. People will come to visit, and they need somewhere to stay.”

As she loops her Louis Vuitton purse over her arm, Quan steps around the curtain, and she physically recoils at the sight of him.

“I can drive you home if you need. I’m Quan, Anna’s … friend. Nice to meet you.” He holds his hand out to shake my mom’s, smiling in his disarming way.

It doesn’t work on her like it does on me. She just stares at him with unnaturally wide eyes, like she’s being held up at gunpoint. I know what she’s seeing—his tattoos, his buzzed head, his motorcycle jacket. I know what she’s thinking. And I start sweating uncontrollably.

“Your friend?” she asks me in a stunned voice.

“Yes,” I say. I’m so anxious it feels like cold needles are pricking my lips. “D-do you want a ride? Quan drove me here.”

“No, thank you,” she says with extreme politeness and the world’s fakest smile. “I drove here. I’ll drive home. Good night.” She hurries past Quan, giving me a horrified look over her shoulder, and leaves.

Quan watches her go with an unreadable expression on his face and then looks downward. He seems so alone, so sad, like a dog who’s tied to a tree outside his owner’s house, and I feel awful.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I desperately want to take away the cold reception my mom gave him. He didn’t deserve that, not at all. “I should have—”

“Hey,” he whispers, hugging me and kissing my forehead. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.”

“Your dad is not doing great. No one’s expected to be at their best right now. Don’t worry about me, okay?” he says.

“But—”

“I mean it. I’ll work on your mom, figure out how to get her to like me. It doesn’t have to be right away.”

I’m too tired to argue, so I tell myself I’ll figure everything out later. For now, I just nod and let myself relax in his arms. I let him hold me up. I’m so grateful he’s not making this harder.

“Do you have everything you need? Want me to get you anything?” he asks.

“I think I have everything.”

“I can ask the nurses if they can bring in a cot or something.”

That suggestion reminds me of the long night ahead, and I sigh. “It’s probably better if I don’t sleep. But you should. You have work tomorrow. You should go home, actually.”

“I don’t mind staying,” he says, and I can see from the look on his face that he’s worried about me. “I can take tomorrow off.”

“You don’t need to, and maybe … I want to have some time alone with my dad.”

He searches my face before saying, “Okay, but you can call me whenever and I’ll come right away.”

I touch his cheek and scrape my fingertips over the buzzed hair on his scalp. “Thank you.”

He kisses me on the lips once and pulls away. “Text me if you need someone to talk to, okay?”

“Okay.”

With one last smile at me and a silent glance at my dad, he leaves, and I’m alone with my dad. It feels like good-bye as I sit there with him. I hold his hand. I look at his sleeping face, which looks like him, but not him. I remember our times together. He used to be an engineer at an international semiconductor company and was out of the country for most of my childhood, but he always tried to be there for the big moments in my life—opening concerts, graduation, et cetera. He made an effort to be there for small moments, too, even though he was gone so often, and looking back, those were more important. He wanted to know what I was interested in. He always wanted to see me when he came home. He quietly checked up on me when I got in trouble with my mom and often defended me, even though he was scared of her, too.