Sunrise was still an hour or two away, and as Amanda closed her eyes she told herself she wasn’t going to sleep long, just a quick catnap before heading back to the hospital.
Her dreamless sleep lasted for six hours.
Her mother was holding a cup of coffee when Amanda came rushing down the hall, frantic to get to the hospital and struggling to remember where she’d left her keys.
“I called just a few minutes ago,” Evelyn said. “Lynn said they hadn’t heard anything at all, aside from the fact that Jared was in surgery.”
“I still have to go,” Amanda mumbled.
“Of course you do. But not until you have a cup of coffee.” Evelyn held out the cup. “I made this for you.”
Amanda pawed through the piles of junk mail and odds and ends on the counters, still searching for her keys. “I don’t have time…”
“It’ll take five or ten minutes to drink,” her mother said, in a voice that brooked no protest. She put the steaming cup in Amanda’s hand. “It won’t change anything. Once you get to the hospital, we both know that all you’re going to do is wait. The only thing that will matter to Jared is whether you’re there when he wakes up, and that’s not going to happen for several hours. So take a few minutes before you rush out of here.” Her mother sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and pointed to the seat next to her. “Have a cup of coffee and something to eat.”
“I can’t have breakfast while my son is in surgery!” she argued.
“I know you’re worried,” Evelyn said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m worried, too. But as your mother, I also worry about you, because I know how much the rest of the family depends on you. We both know that you function much better after you’ve eaten and had a cup of coffee.”
Amanda hesitated then raised the cup to her lips. It did taste good.
“You really think it’s okay?” She gave an uncertain frown as she took a seat next to her mother at the kitchen table.
“Of course. You have a long day ahead of you. Jared is going to need you to be strong when he sees you.”
Amanda clutched the cup. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
To Amanda’s astonishment, her mother reached out and covered her hands with her own. “I know. I am, too.”
Amanda stared at her hands, still laced around the coffee cup, surrounded and supported by her mother’s tiny manicured ones. “Thanks for coming.”
Evelyn allowed herself a small smile. “It’s not like I had a choice,” she said. “You’re my daughter, and you needed me.”
Together, Amanda and her mother drove to the hospital, meeting up with the rest of the family in the waiting room. Annette and Lynn ran to give her a hug, burying their faces in her neck. Frank merely nodded and mumbled a greeting. Her mother, instantly sensing the tension between them, whisked the girls off to an early lunch.
When Amanda and Frank were alone, he turned to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
Amanda looked at him. “I know you are.”
“I know it should be me in there, instead of Jared.”
Amanda said nothing.
“I can leave you alone if you want,” he said into the silence. “I can find someplace else to sit.”
Amanda sighed before shaking her head. “It’s fine. He’s your son. You belong here.”
Frank swallowed. “I’ve stopped drinking, if that means anything. Really, this time. For good.”
Amanda waved to cut him off. “Just… don’t, okay? I don’t want to get into this now. This isn’t the time or place, and all it’s going to do is make me angrier than I already am. I’ve heard it all before, and I can’t deal with this on top of everything else right now.”
Frank nodded. Turning around, he went back to his seat. Amanda sat in a chair along the opposite wall. Neither of them said another word until Evelyn returned with the kids.
A little after noon, Dr. Mills entered the waiting room. Everyone stood. Amanda searched his face, expecting the worst, but her fears were allayed almost immediately by his air of exhausted satisfaction. “The surgery went well,” he began, before walking them through the steps of the procedure.
When he’d finished, Annette tugged at his sleeve. “Jared is going to be okay?”
“Yes,” the doctor answered with a smile. He reached down to touch her head. “Your brother is going to be fine.”
“When can we see him?” Amanda asked.
“He’s in recovery right now, but maybe in a few hours.”
“Will he be awake then?”
“Yes,” Dr. Mills answered. “He’ll be awake.”
When the family was informed they could go in and visit Jared, Frank shook his head.
“Go ahead,” he said to Amanda. “We’ll wait. We’ll see him after you come out.”
Amanda followed the nurse to the recovery room. Up ahead, Dr. Mills was waiting for her.
“He’s awake.” He nodded, falling into step with her. “But I want to warn you that he had a lot of questions and didn’t take the news too well. All I ask is that you do your best not to upset him.”
“What should I say?”
“Just talk to him,” he answered. “You’ll know what to say. You’re his mother.”
Outside the recovery room, Amanda took a deep breath, and Dr. Mills pushed open the door. She entered the brightly lit room, immediately spotting her son in a bed with the curtains drawn back.
Jared was ghostly pale, and his cheeks were still hollowed out. He rolled his head to the side, a brief smile crossing his face.
“Hi, Mom,” he whispered, his words fuzzy with the remnants of anesthesia.
Amanda touched his arm, careful not to disturb the countless tubes and swaths of medical tape and instruments attached to his body. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Tired,” he mumbled. “Sore.”
“I know,” she said. She brushed the hair from his forehead before taking a seat in the hard plastic chair beside him. “And you’ll probably be sore for a while. But you won’t have to be here long. Just a week or so.”
He blinked, his eyelids moving slowly. Like he used to do as a little boy, right before she turned out the lights at bedtime.
“I have a new heart,” he said. “The doctor said I had no choice.”
“Yes,” she answered.
“What does that mean?” Jared’s arm jerked in agitation. “Am I going to have a normal life?”
“Of course you will,” she said soothingly.
“They took out my heart, Mom.” He gripped the sheet on the bed. “They told me that I’m going to be taking drugs forever.”
Confusion and apprehension played across his youthful features. He understood that his future had been irrevocably altered, and while she wished she could shield him from this new reality, she knew she couldn’t.
“Yes,” she said, her gaze never wavering. “You had a heart transplant. And yes, you’ll be on drugs forever. But those things also mean you’re alive.”
“For how long? Even the doctors can’t tell me that.”
“Does that really matter right now?”
“Of course it matters,” Jared snapped. “They told me that the average transplant lasts fifteen to twenty years. And then I’ll probably need another heart.”
“Then you’ll get another one. And in between, you’re going to live, and after that, you’ll live some more. Just like everyone else.”
“You don’t understand what I’m trying to say.” Jared turned his face away, toward the wall on the far side of the bed.