Page 121 of Cuts like a Knife
“Fine,” I say, grabbing my bag and taking it into the bedroom, and slamming the door behind me.
~
I get the first flight out, but it turns out it doesn’t depart until mid-day347. Drew calls Damon to pick me up, early in the morning, at my request, but barely speaks to me otherwise. He doesn’t even say goodbye.
Fine.
No, finally.
It’s what I wanted. It’s what I said I wanted.
Once the flight lands, instead of going home to change or drop my bag, I head straight to the hospital.
I’m done with being a shallow jerk. Family. Family is something that really matters.
The cab I take from the airport348 drops me off at the doors to the emergency room, which I know isn’t the correct entrance, but neither myself nor the driver can figure out where the main doors of the hospital are.
Thank goodness I have enough cash on hand to pay him. Without my phone, I feel strange and adrift — like I’m in some sort of timeless, liminal space between who I was and who I’m going to be on Monday, when I officially get shit canned. Again.
I push my way through the sliding doors and am immediately stopped by a security guard at an imposing desk.
“What is your emergency?” The guard asks, looking me up and down suspiciously.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “I know I’ve come in the wrong door. I’m trying to find my sister. Claire Madison?”
At Claire’s name, the security guard rolls his eyes.
“Popular woman,” he says. Then, at my puzzled expression, he gestures dismissively to his left. I turn my head and immediately clock Marla — Claire’s toxic Mother-in-Law — at a bigger information desk in the middle of what looks to be a lobby, adjacent to the emergency department.
She is clearly arguing with whomever is behind the table.
“Ah,” I say. “Yes. I know here. I’ll just …” I begin walking towards the bigger desk, wondering if the guard will try to stop me, but he’s already gone back to looking at his phone349.
As I approach, Marla catches sight of me and her voice gets loud.
“She knows me! She’ll tell you!”
“Tell them what, Marla?” I say as I arrive at the desk. “I’m looking for my sister, Claire Madison,” I say to the woman sitting there. She’s dressed in scrubs, and wears a badge on a lanyard with her picture on it and her name: Maria. Maria’s expression is stone-faced.
“That I’m allowed in! That my son would want me there. I’m the child’s grandmother, for heaven’s sake. I have rights!”
“Ma’am, as I’ve already explained to you, I have been instructed not to let you up to see Ms. Madison at this time. And you,” Maria turns to me. “Her sister is already up there so I don’t know who you are, but you’re not getting in either.”
“Oh, I’m another sister. There are five of us. All together.”
Maria rolls her eyes. “Nonetheless, I can’t reveal her room number. You understand. If you’re her sister, text her for it yourself.”
“I can’t,” I say. “My phone’s dead because I—“ I realize mid-sentence that explaining why my phone’s dead isn’t going to do my any favors, and change tacks. “Marla, would Claire even want you up there? Isn’t that the most important thing?”
“The most important thing is my grand baby, missy. And my baby boy, Adam.” She turns back to Maria behind the desk. “So you are going to give me that room number. Or do I need to speak to your manager?”
Oh boy. Marla’s about to Karen-block, hard. I can see it in her face.
I take a step back, out of Marla’s eye-line, grimace, and mouth a message to Maria. ‘Don’t tell her,’ I say silently. ‘She’s crazy.’ I think I see a hint of a smile at the corner of Maria’s mouth. Audibly, I continue. “I understand. Could you maybe direct me to a bathroom instead? I just got off a flight and I’m bursting.”
“Public lavatories are just there,” Maria says, pointing to a hall at the far corner of the lobby behind her.
“Thanks, I say,” and hurry around the desk. I walk half-way across the lobby then feign confusion and turn back, approaching info desk from a different angle, where I just happen to be able to see Maria’s computer screen.
