some paper towels and put them just under my hands.
The smell of the hospital permeates the bathroom. Flashing, shooting images of long hallways and a doctor walking toward me.
Wringing her hands, approaching families—hopeful families. Families that are about to be broken.
“Evelyn Hawkes, please… she would have been brought in about fifteen minutes ago?” I ask, breathless.
“Hawkes?” the woman behind the bulletproof glass asks.
“Yes, Hawkes, with an
e
. Evelyn Hawkes? Car accident,” I say, looking around the waiting room for the rest of my family.
“Come on through,” the woman says, buzzing the large double doors open.
I walk through and am hit with that smell: sickness they try to cover up with cleaning products. Bustling nurses and doctors
zip from one room to another, gurneys line the halls, and everyone not in scrubs seems confused… lost somehow. We shouldn’t
be here. No one should be here.
“Grace!?” Leo calls from the far end of the long hallway. He slips and slides down in blue paper booties, no doubt provided
by the hospital, because I’m sure Leo showed up barefoot. I catch his full weight and prop him back up.
“Hey… hey… it’s going to be fine. It was just a car. She was in that giant flower truck, Leo. She’s going to be—” I soothe,
rocking him back and forth.
“She’s their floral designer, why was she even driving that thing?” Leo asks, before I can finish my speech. I’m sure she
is going to be rolled out in a little wheelchair with a sling around her arm and a “How do you like that?” look on her face
any minute.
“Maybe someone didn’t come in to work. She’ll tell us when we’re allowed to see her,” I answer, looking down the long hallway.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Leo sighs.
“Hey,” Abigail says, walking down the long hallway with Manny and Evie: the namesake. At just ten, she’s barely even allowed
to be back here. The detached preteen is doing her best to not look scared. Manny is wearing a company polo tucked into dress
slacks. Abigail’s loafers squeak on the hospital’s clean floor as she walks toward us. I can see Abigail caressing Evie’s
hand as she gets closer. Evie’s eyes dart from one room to another. She holds on to Abigail’s hand tightly.
“They haven’t come out yet,” Leo says, his voice tight. I am calm.
“Okay… okay… we’re all here. Huston is out front filling out some paperwork. It was just a car and she was in that giant flower
truck,” Abigail asserts, playfully shaking Evie’s hand around. Evie’s face remains creased with worry.
“Why was she even driving that thing?” Leo asks again.
“Did anyone talk to her yet?” I ask, hopeful.
“I talked to her this morning,” Abigail says. We all nod. We’ve all talked to her this morning. We all talk every morning.
We all talk every day.
“Have you heard anything yet?” Huston asks, emerging through the double doors. Huston’s frame takes up the long, sterile hallway.
He immediately walks over to me.
“No, nothing,” I answer, Leo still curled into every nook and cranny.
“She was in that giant flower truck. She’s gonna be fine,” Leo adds. I smile again. This is nothing.
“The woman at the front desk didn’t say anything?” Abigail asks. Evie is biting her fingernails, plunging her entire hand
into her mouth. Deeper and deeper in. Manny gently pulls Evie’s hand out of her mouth and gives it a tender kiss. Evie smiles,
embarrassed. Manny holds her hand in his.
“She was in that giant flower truck,” Huston says.
“That’s what I said,” I say, smiling. Huston averts his eyes and I can see his jaw clenching… over and over. I pull Leo close.
“Why was she even driving that thing?” Leo’s voice is growing panicked.
“She was in that giant flower truck,” Huston says again, still nodding.
A doctor turns the corner… walking down that long hallway. She’s wringing her
The smell of the hospital permeates the bathroom. Flashing, shooting images of long hallways and a doctor walking toward me.
Wringing her hands, approaching families—hopeful families. Families that are about to be broken.
“Evelyn Hawkes, please… she would have been brought in about fifteen minutes ago?” I ask, breathless.
“Hawkes?” the woman behind the bulletproof glass asks.
“Yes, Hawkes, with an
e
. Evelyn Hawkes? Car accident,” I say, looking around the waiting room for the rest of my family.
“Come on through,” the woman says, buzzing the large double doors open.
I walk through and am hit with that smell: sickness they try to cover up with cleaning products. Bustling nurses and doctors
zip from one room to another, gurneys line the halls, and everyone not in scrubs seems confused… lost somehow. We shouldn’t
be here. No one should be here.
“Grace!?” Leo calls from the far end of the long hallway. He slips and slides down in blue paper booties, no doubt provided
by the hospital, because I’m sure Leo showed up barefoot. I catch his full weight and prop him back up.
“Hey… hey… it’s going to be fine. It was just a car. She was in that giant flower truck, Leo. She’s going to be—” I soothe,
rocking him back and forth.
“She’s their floral designer, why was she even driving that thing?” Leo asks, before I can finish my speech. I’m sure she
is going to be rolled out in a little wheelchair with a sling around her arm and a “How do you like that?” look on her face
any minute.
“Maybe someone didn’t come in to work. She’ll tell us when we’re allowed to see her,” I answer, looking down the long hallway.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Leo sighs.
“Hey,” Abigail says, walking down the long hallway with Manny and Evie: the namesake. At just ten, she’s barely even allowed
to be back here. The detached preteen is doing her best to not look scared. Manny is wearing a company polo tucked into dress
slacks. Abigail’s loafers squeak on the hospital’s clean floor as she walks toward us. I can see Abigail caressing Evie’s
hand as she gets closer. Evie’s eyes dart from one room to another. She holds on to Abigail’s hand tightly.
“They haven’t come out yet,” Leo says, his voice tight. I am calm.
“Okay… okay… we’re all here. Huston is out front filling out some paperwork. It was just a car and she was in that giant flower
truck,” Abigail asserts, playfully shaking Evie’s hand around. Evie’s face remains creased with worry.
“Why was she even driving that thing?” Leo asks again.
“Did anyone talk to her yet?” I ask, hopeful.
“I talked to her this morning,” Abigail says. We all nod. We’ve all talked to her this morning. We all talk every morning.
We all talk every day.
“Have you heard anything yet?” Huston asks, emerging through the double doors. Huston’s frame takes up the long, sterile hallway.
He immediately walks over to me.
“No, nothing,” I answer, Leo still curled into every nook and cranny.
“She was in that giant flower truck. She’s gonna be fine,” Leo adds. I smile again. This is nothing.
“The woman at the front desk didn’t say anything?” Abigail asks. Evie is biting her fingernails, plunging her entire hand
into her mouth. Deeper and deeper in. Manny gently pulls Evie’s hand out of her mouth and gives it a tender kiss. Evie smiles,
embarrassed. Manny holds her hand in his.
“She was in that giant flower truck,” Huston says.
“That’s what I said,” I say, smiling. Huston averts his eyes and I can see his jaw clenching… over and over. I pull Leo close.
“Why was she even driving that thing?” Leo’s voice is growing panicked.
“She was in that giant flower truck,” Huston says again, still nodding.
A doctor turns the corner… walking down that long hallway. She’s wringing her
Similar Books
