25. Remi
"When standing, time passes faster for your face than for your feet." ~ Tim Rhodes
Frustrated did not beginto explain what I was feeling as I waited for Taylor to come back out and tell me what the hell was going on. Unable to sit still, I paced up and down the far wall of the waiting room. I'd spoken to the woman at the check-in desk, asking for updates and asking to see my mom at least a dozen times. I'd approached three nurses and one X-ray tech, who all told me that they would see what they could find out. Two of the nurses came back and told me the same thing: my mother was conscious, lucid, and did not want to see anyone.
Why wouldn't my mom want to see me?
High fever. Weight loss. Loss of consciousness. Her symptoms kept repeating in my head.
As a hotshot, I didn't go out on medical calls the way firefighters at a station would, so my EMT certification didn't get used often. I'd thought about googling the symptoms, but I knew that would take me down a rabbit hole that would probably leave me with more questions than I had now.
I ran my hands through my hair as I paced. This hospital was not my favorite place. I'd been in this very emergency waiting room when doctors came out and told my mom that they'd done everything they could, but my dad was gone. She'd collapsed into my arms, and I'd held her as she sobbed, and now she didn't even want to see me.
None of this made any sense.
The double doors opened, and Taylor walked out. I'd seen her in casual clothes, in pajamas, and in dresses, but this look might be my favorite. Well, naked was my favorite version. But if she had to be covered up in clothes, blue scrubs, a white lab coat, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail suited her. I knew this was not the time I should be playing out a porno in my head, but she was inspiring all sorts of medical fantasies.
Me lying on an exam table, and her asking where it hurts. Me explaining that the issue is with my penis. Her telling me that she can make it all better. I shook my head in an attempt to erase the X-rated scenario.
"Can I go back? Can I see her?" I asked from across the room. I closed the distance in two long strides.
From the look on her face, I knew the answer.
"She doesn't want any visitors."
"What is going on? Why did she collapse? Why was she unconscious?"
"Unfortunately, I can't disclose that information."
"You can't disclose that information?" I repeated to the woman, who no less than twelve hours ago had fallen asleep in my arms after a sex-a-thon.
Taylor's expression was neutral. She gave nothing away. If there was a Poker Face Olympics, she would easily take the gold. But her eyes were a different story. Her eyes were the window to her soul. In them, I could see a tiny crack in her professional armor. She wanted to tell me what was going on. She just couldn't.
"Fine." I sighed as I accepted defeat. She didn't owe me anything, especially not something that would jeopardize her career. "It's okay."
Her hand reached out and touched my forearm. Besides grabbing me and pulling me inside her house so the neighbors wouldn't see, this was the first time she'd initiated contact. I felt her touch all the way into my soul.
Leaning closer to me, she spoke barely above a whisper. "She's discharging herself now, against doctor's orders. So, if you wait, she won't be long."
It was clear that was information she technically should not have shared with me, but I was grateful she had. "Thank you."
She nodded as the pager on her hip beeped. Her head dropped as she looked down at it. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Okay, bye."
Instead of turning and leaving, she kept staring at me, her hand still on my forearm. I wasn't sure if her hesitation was because she hated goodbyes, which I'd learned during our ‘first date' or because she had more to say—maybe both.
When she'd seen me in the hallway, there was a brief second of shock, followed by a flash of excitement that I was there. That momentary reaction was squelched after I told her the reason I was there. I wondered what would have happened if my mom hadn't been rushed to the hospital, and I'd just shown up.
"Taylor, I?—"
"Dr. Hale," a nurse called out from the double doors.
Without another word, Taylor's hand dropped, she turned on her heels, and she was gone.
I lowered down onto the chair and tried to come up with a reason my mom wouldn't tell me what was going on with her. It had to be bad. Really bad. That was the only thing I could think of.
Kane and Ruby were going to be gone for the next five days on their honeymoon. They'd be back on Friday in time for Harper's birthday party on Saturday. I pulled out my phone, and for the hundredth time in the past four hours I'd been there, I considered calling my sister and letting her know what was going on.
My instinct was no; I absolutely should not call her. But then, I kept thinking, if the roles were reversed and she didn't call me, I'd be furious. But I didn't want to ruin her mini-moon. She'd had a tough year and deserved some time with her new husband. Also, it's not like I had answers for her. When I did, then I'd reassess whether or not I should inform her. If I called her now; she'd be just as worried and confused as I was, there was no point in that. I felt helpless, worried, and confused enough for the both of us.
As I was putting my phone back in my pocket, it vibrated. I looked down and saw that Misty was calling me again. I sent her to voicemail. I had planned to speak to her when I got home tonight, but now, that wasn't going to happen.
Finding my mom changed everything. There was no way I was going to go back to California until I knew she was okay. The only way that was going to happen was if I knew what was going on. After listening to the message Misty left, which just asked me to call her back, I put my phone back in my pocket and waited.
I sat on the pleather chair watching the second hand go round and round the large, old-school, clock hanging on the far wall. Each second felt like an eternity. Time was funny like that. It was subjective to environment, company, and activity.
The precious hours I'd spent in the hotel room with ‘Ana' or last night with Taylor had flown by. It felt like I blinked, and our time had run out. But the four and a half hours I'd spent at the hospital today felt like days, weeks, and months had passed. Like time had stood still.
The doors opened again, and I saw a nurse wheeling my mom out in a wheelchair.
"I don't need this thing. I can walk," my mom argued.
The young nurse did not seem fazed at all by my mom's protest. "It's policy, Mrs. Rhodes."
I stood, and when my mom noticed me, tears welled in her eyes as her bottom lip quivered. "I told them to tell you to leave."
"Yeah, they did. I didn't listen."
Her lips pursed as a tear slid down her cheek. I had no idea what the root cause of my mom's emotion was. Was she happy, relieved, irritated, or angry to see me? Regardless, I'd never been a huge fan of seeing my sister or mom crying. Whenever I did, my heart felt like it was in a vice being squeezed.
"I'm going to go get the truck," I informed my mom, then directed my next statement to the nurse. "Stay with her, please."
The nurse nodded, and I hurried out to the parking garage. Within a few minutes, I was pulling up to the entrance of the emergency room. I got out of the truck as the automatic doors slid open, and the nurse wheeled my mom out to meet me.
"I don't need help," my mom insisted as she stood.
I ignored her. My arm snaked around her lower back, and I scooped her into the seat. After closing the passenger side door, I thanked the nurse then headed around to the driver's side. When I climbed in, my mom's eyes were shut.
I knew that she was faking sleep which was fine after she answered my questions. We drove for about five minutes in silence before I finally glanced over at her and demanded, "Tell me what's going on."
"Nothing. I'm fine. You can go back to California. Stop fussing over me."
"Mom, tell me what's going on," I stated once more.
Her eyes opened as she turned her head toward me. "It's just my iron. It's low."
"Iron deficiencies do not cause high fevers."
"I have a little virus."
"Mom, do not lie?—"
She closed her eyes and rested her head back once more. "I'm tired. I just want to go home."
Her tone made it clear; this was not up for discussion. I knew that the more I pushed for information, the more she'd refuse to tell me, just to make the point that she could. I wasn't going to get what I needed from her. Which meant I needed to find out from someone else. And I knew exactly who that someone was.
Asking Taylor would put her in an impossible situation. I just hoped whatever we had was strong enough to withstand the consequences of my request. If she told me, she'd be compromising her ethical integrity. If she didn't, I'd have to accept her decision, which was not going to be easy. Either way, it wasn't fair; I knew that. But I didn't have a lot of choices.