Page 65 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 17
Ryan
“It’s Gramps,” he says.
Blood drains from me and I don’t know where it goes, but I feel numb and dizzy and sick all at once before my adrenaline kicks in. Chelsea is already on her feet and I find myself rushing out the back door behind her, Gary following.
“What happened?” I say as I run through the small backyard, through the gap in the fence and onto my parents’ back deck.
“Not sure. He collapsed, has some chest pains, but he’s awake. He asked for you. Ma called the ambulance.”
The sirens bleat as if to prove him right and they’re not far away. The firehouse is less than a half mile from the house. I’ll make sure they take him to the Mass General and I’ll make sure I ride with him. I slam inside the kitchen door at the same time as Chelsea and stop short when I see him on the floor, my mother holding him in her lap.
“Where’s Dad?”
With tears streaming down her face, she says, “On his way. He’ll meet us at the hospital.”
* * *
After a hairy rideto the emergency room of the Mass General that took less than ten minutes, and some pacing around the waiting room for an hour while doctors did whatever they do with an old man suffering a heart attack, I stop in front of Chelsea. She stood leaning against the wall next to Maggs, who stood next to Levi. No one was talking and, for the moment, no one was crying.
Deep sympathy and empathy shone in her eyes, along with a sadness that almost reminded me of her mother. Maybe that’s why I pulled her away from the wall and took her in my arms. While I held her, no one said a word or did more than glance our way, not even my brother Glen.
Not even my mother, who sat with my father holding her. She noticed, though. She saw me, looked straight at me. I expected censure in her eyes, but it wasn’t there. She didn’t smile, but she might have if Gramps wasn’t possibly dying of a heart attack in a hospital room nearby.
Chelsea and I stood together for a long while, until a doctor came from the room they’d taken Gramps to and asked for the O’Rourkes. Everyone crowded in and I was front and center. He glanced around at everyone, but his eyes came back to mine and I saw recognition.
“That’s right—you’re Ryan O’Rourke. You play for the Brawlers.”
I wanted to shake him and yell at him to tell us about Gramps, but he smiled. I nodded.
“Your grandfather did not suffer a heart attack. He had a severe case of acid reflux. The prognosis is good—if he takes the medication I’m going to prescribe and watches what he eats. We can release him tonight if he has someone at home to take care of him.”
There’s a chorus of voices thanking him, thanking God, and assuring the doctor that Gramps is not alone and he’ll be well taken care of.
“Nothing is wrong with his heart?” I ask, speaking up ahead of Dad and I see his scowl, understand his resentment because the doctor has been giving me his undivided attention as if I’m the head of the family. But who cares right now? I concentrate on what the doctor has to say.
“Nothing wrong there. He has a strong heart and a stronger will, it seems.”
“Can I see him?”
“Sure. He said he wants to talk to you first before he sees the rest of the family—or before he’s ‘overrun by the family,’ to quote him.” The doc laughs, marveling about what a character the old man is, something we all know very well.
“All right then, I’ll arrange for his prescription. Go ahead in and see him.” Doc points to a an emergency patient room not far off the waiting room.
I walk in without knocking to find him lying on the bed and laughing with a nurse—she’s standing at a distance, thank fuck.
“Gramps. What the hell?” I go to his bed and take his still strong, if veiny, hand in mine. He has no needles stuck in him, but his hair is messed up and he’s wearing one of those gowns.
“I’ll leave you to talk. Nice meeting you.” The nurse winks at Gramps and leaves, shutting the door behind her as we both watch her go.
“Not bad,” I say.
“Where’d you think you got it from, sonny boy?”
I laugh and sit in the chair next to his bed, which is adjusted to the sitting-up position.
“You gave us a scare, Gramps.” No sense hedging.
