Sam was silent as he and Katie made the relatively short walk to the hospital. He wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and he apparently now had to watch his feet closely so they didn’t snag on the slightest crack in the pavement and trip him over.
Nothing I’ve tried has brought me any closer to fixing this, he thought. God, if only I had Al to tell me what I need to do.
As they passed the brick facade of a store, an unexpected burst of anger surged through Sam, and he slammed a closed fist against the wall.
“Are you… okay?” Katie asked, her voice quiet and high-pitched. Sam realised the action had frightened her.
“Sorry. I guess my emotional regulation might be on the fritz now, too.” He inspected his hand, where spots of blood pooled at various grazed points on his knuckle. “I’m just frustrated.”
He gestured at the brickwork. “It’s just been one brick wall after another, you know? Every time I dare hope, every time I try to claw my way out of this mess…”
He slapped the wall with an open palm. “It always leads to a dead end.” He held his hand there against the wall, bowing his head.
Katie’s arms slid around his waist, and she squeezed. “We have to keep trying…”
She propped her head on his back. “What if there’s still more you have to do? Maybe you have to – I dunno, set up a real date with the guy, then leave notes all around your apartment to make sure she goes. Maybe that’ll let you leap.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sam knew she may well have been on the right track, but at that point, he just couldn’t think about it any longer. “Let’s just go see Mom and Dad for now.”
“Okay, Sammy.” Katie let go of his torso and shifted her hands to his arm, which she gripped tightly, and tugged. “Watch your step!”
Sam allowed himself to be led by his sister, staring at his feet until he heard a sudden screech of car brakes. His head whipped toward the noise, and his eyes halted movement as he spotted a fluffy grey cat sitting on a fence across the street.
He turned to Katie, tapping her shoulder. “Hey, that looks like—”
As his gaze flicked back to the fence, the cat was gone.
“What?”
“I thought I saw… hmm. Never mind. It’s nothing.”
Do I have to add hallucinations to my growing list of symptoms, now? Great. Just what I needed.
* * *
As Sam and Katie reached the hospital room, Doctor Marshall looked up from what appeared to be a deep discussion with Thelma, as John looked on from the bed.
“Oh, hello,” the doctor said, smiling at Katie. “I was just telling your parents here that we’ve managed to secure bypass surgery for tomorrow.”
“Really?” Sam asked, hardly able to believe it.
Doctor Marshall nodded. “Considering the… uniquely tragic circumstances in this family at present, the hospital directors made the call to bump Mister Beckett to the top of the list. Apparently one Professor LoNigro is leading a donation drive on campus to help fund it, too.”
Sam looked at his father, pale and laden with heart monitor sensors. The old man smiled back, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Seems my chances of seein’ Christmas this year are five percent if I don’t go under the knife, and fifty percent if I do,” he said with a resigned sigh. “S’pose I’ll take the higher of the two.”
He craned his neck, looking at the comatose form of his son. “Hey son, you hear that? Fifty-fifty chance we get to meet up at the pearly gates. How ‘bout it? Don’t think you get out of milking the cows in our farm up in Heaven, you hear? I got a list of chores the length of your arm. But you can share with Tom.”
The attempt to lighten the mood only served to darken it, as Sam exchanged maudlin looks with Katie and Thelma.
“You sure cleaned up nice,” John continued, regarding Sam with an impressed smile.
“I gave her a makeover,” Katie said. Sam noticed she still had a firm grasp on his arm, and wondered if it was as much for her as it was for him.
“Golly, you two are like a couple of sisters already,” Thelma commented. “Seems like Sam picked a good one.”
“Uh, thank you…” Sam mumbled. “Katie’s pretty great.”
He turned his eye to Doctor Marshall. “Thank you for helping him.”
“The higher-ups made a rare compassionate call,” the doctor replied. “Let’s just hope we find success come tomorrow.”
He strolled to the door, and nodded to the room. “Get a good sleep tonight – especially you, Missus Beckett. Don’t want you to be the next patient I see for throwing her back out sleeping in a chair.”
And he was gone.
Sam gave his mother a crooked grin. “He’s right, you know. My door is open to you, Mo—Missus Beckett.”
“Oh, Thelma – go on,” said John. “I’m a big boy. You look like death warmed up.”
Thelma raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Says the old coot whose ticker’s about as healthy as the rusty old tractor in the back paddock.”
“That’s still there?” Sam wondered aloud, and Katie gave him a warning pinch. He closed his mouth.
“Thelma, get yourself into a real bed, alright?” John continued, apparently not having noticed Sam’s outburst. “I’m in plenty good hands here.”
Thelma sighed. “Oh, fine. But you’d best survive the night, John – you hear me? If I come in at the crack of dawn tomorrow and find an empty bed, I’m gonna march up to Heaven myself and give you a piece of my mind.”
She smiled up at Sam. “Yolanda, dear. Let me repay your kindness by cooking you a nice dinner. It’s the least I could do.”
“Missus Beckett,” Sam said, unable to control his grin, “I wouldn’t miss the chance to taste your cooking.”