36. Vinnie

36

VINNIE

I get back to the hospital, and my grandfather and Declan McAllister are no longer there. Falcon is sitting in the waiting area.

“Just you?”

He looks up at me, his gaze wary. His tone is artificially even as he speaks to me. “Savannah’s in with your mother. She’s coming in and out of consciousness. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

I walk back to my mother’s room.

Savannah is sitting next to the bed, holding onto my mother’s frail hand. “Hey, Vinnie,” she says.

“Hey.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Why don’t you go? I’ll sit with her for a while. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

“She’ll be happy to see you.” She lets out a light laugh. “She was even pretty happy to see me.”

“She loves you, Sav. You know that.”

“I know. I just have to accept the fact that women aren’t as valuable as men in her world.”

I lean in and lower my voice. “Her world won’t be around for much longer if I have anything to say about it.”

She lets go of Mom’s hand and rises. “I’ll go sit with Falcon for a while in the waiting area. Let me know if she wakes up or if you need me for anything.”

“Will do.” I take the chair where Savannah was sitting. “And Sav?”

She turns in the doorway. “Yeah?”

I sigh. “Hold on to Falcon. He’s a good guy.”

She smiles. “Don’t I know it.” She leaves the ICU unit.

I redirect my attention to my mother, grabbing her hand. “I’m here, Mom.”

Her eyelids flutter. “Vinnie?” she rasps out.

I squeeze her hand. “Yeah, I’m here.”

She winces. “I have to…tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“You need to know.” She closes her eyes. “You were always my favorite. Even after how you came into the world.”

I smile. “It was a tough labor. I know.”

“No. I mean…” Her voice cracks. “Your grandfather…”

“Yes, I know he was here.”

“Your father…”

“I’m working with our attorneys to get him a furlough to come see you.”

“Yes. But no. I mean. Your father…”

I wrinkle my forehead. What is she trying to say? “Yes, Mom? What is it?”

“He… Your father is…” She shifts in her bed. The heart monitor accelerates.

“Easy.” I put her hand down, patting it lightly. “You’ll tell me later.”

“No…” She opens her eyes, grimacing. “Must tell you…”

The alarms on the machines start blaring.

“Oh my God, Mom!” My pulse races as fear courses through me.

Her eyes close.

The room floods with nurses.

“Sir, you’re going to have to leave,” one of them says to me.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Just as I ask this, a doctor rushes in, his face grim.

“No, I need to stay. She was trying to tell me something about my dad!” I yell over the tumultuous drone of the machines.

The doctor pushes past the nurses, immediately attending to my mom. He moves quickly. “Code blue!”

“Sir, you have to leave!” The same nurse’s voice cuts through the cacophony again, hands guiding me towards the door.

“No! You don’t understand?—”

But before I can finish my plea, I find myself in the hallway outside the room. The door slams shut behind me, cutting off any protest.

I collapse against the cold hospital wall, staring at the closed door. My mind swims with questions left unanswered as the reality sinks in.

What was my mother trying to tell me?

And what is happening to her now?

I stand in the doorway of her room.

“She may have thrown a clot,” someone says. “Get a heparin drip started. We’ve got to get her pulse ox up or we’re going to lose her.”

My heart drops as I hear the words. A cold shiver slinks down my spine. I feel like I’m spinning, crashing into a world of fear and uncertainty. An invisible weight presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

My mother, my strength, my anchor throughout my life might be taken from me tonight. And that secret she was about to share remains a secret. The urgency in her voice still rings in my ears as I pound my fists against the wall.

Through the small window on the door, I see them working ceaselessly on Mom. But their quick movements look like they’re fading, becoming slower. The doctor’s face is a harrowing mask of grim determination and worry.

Then the dreadful words.

“We’re losing her.”

The painful beep of the flatline haunts the air around me.

“No!” I find myself screaming, “Fight, Mom! Fight!” I rush through the door before a strong hand grabs me by my shoulder, pulling me back. It’s another doctor, someone I haven’t seen before.

“Son,” he says in a deep, sorrowful voice, “we’re doing everything we can.”

I try to shake him off in an attempt to rush into the room, but his grip is iron. He’s used to family members trying to get inside. I sink to the floor, my legs unable to support me anymore.

“I need… She was…” I gulp. “She was saying something about my dad.”

I am helpless. Powerless. Just an observer as the doctors and nurses scramble around desperately trying to revive my mother.

The seconds turn into minutes, each ticking away with excruciating slowness.

And then...

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.”