Beyond Control (20 page)

“Absolutely,” she whispered. “And Gabby.”

“Yeah?” I asked, standing up from the bed.

“Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

I attempted a smile, but I think all that came across was a grimace. She headed to her bedroom to send out the email, and I stood in my bedroom as waves of guilt ran through me. If I hadn’t made such a big deal about everything this wouldn’t have happened. I walked to the dresser and grabbed a silk scarf, wrapping it around my ponytail to keep my mind from running away on me.

This morning I woke up feeling alive with the prospect of a future I could create, leaving the one my father wanted for me behind. Now I felt the weight of responsibility crashing down on me all over again, leaving me not wanting to rock the boat or shift anything in the universe once more. I just needed to do what would make him better; what would make him happy.

I grabbed my Kindle and stuffed it in my purse. I was on autopilot and wanted to get to the hospital. What if my dad wasn’t going to be okay? My stomach knotted at the thought of something happening to him now. I didn’t want him to leave this world thinking I didn’t love him.

“Email sent,” Brandy hollered. “And I placed all the scones in a baggie. We could take them to the hospital instead of…”

I met her in the kitchen and nodded. That would be a nice thing to do. Not that anyone would want to eat anything, but it would make me feel better. I strapped my purse over my shoulder and handed the keys to Brandy.

“Mind driving?” I asked, forcing the tears down.

“Not at all.” She snatched the keys away and carried the baggie of scones as I followed her out of the condo.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, I was a mess. I had received two texts from Carla—one that they were going to schedule surgery and the next that my father was in surgery. Brandy parked close to the hospital entrance, and we both jumped out of the Jeep and darted toward the automatic doors.

Greeted by the volunteers, we gave them my father’s name, and they told us what floor he was on and the directions to the surgery waiting room.

“It’s going to be okay,” Brandy whispered, as we stepped on the elevator.

“What if it’s not? What if me calling him pathetic was the last time I spent with him? The last words I said to him?” I asked, swallowing the lump down for the millionth time this morning.

“You can’t do this to yourself, Gabby. Every family has arguments, and what was laid on you was pretty heavy stuff. Don’t forget that,” Brandy replied.

I watched the parade of lights as we rode up the elevator, praying we wouldn’t have any stops on the way to my dad’s floor. The elevator finally landed on the eighth floor, and the doors opened to a hallway with red arrows pointing to the right and green to the left. We followed to the right, walking down a long corridor with blue double doors scattered every so often. I spotted the red waiting room sign and slowed. Taking a deep breath in, I stepped into the surgery waiting room that was filled with empty couches, tables with stacked magazines, and a corner full of toys. Carla stood up, her eyes tinged with redness, as she held her crumpled tissue. Unable to control my emotions any longer, the tears came as I saw the fear in Carla’s eyes.

“Oh, Gabby,” she whispered, coming to hug me. “It’s going to be okay. It really is.”

“What’s going on? I thought I’d have time to see him before he went into surgery,” I muttered, hugging my stepmom, trying to regroup.

“The doctor decided that his heart attack had happened several days ago and based on the symptoms didn’t feel comfortable waiting any longer,” she said, sniffling as she took a step back from me. “They’re doing angioplasty and possibly putting in stents.”

“Angioplasty?” I asked.

She nodded. “I can’t believe it. He didn’t even have high blood pressure.”

Brandy sat down in the chair across from us and I followed. Carla grabbed her purse and coffee and moved next to us. She looked exhausted.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” I asked Carla.

She shook her head. “I can’t sleep.”

“Did they say how long they thought it might take?” I asked.

“Up to three hours, give or take,” she replied.

“Why don’t you try to get some rest? Even if it’s only thirty minutes, you need to try…”

“All this caffeine probably doesn’t help either,” Carla said, her eyes glassy as she shook her empty Styrofoam cup.

“I saw a couple sleeping rooms two doors that way,” I told her pointing at the direction we came from. “And they looked empty. I’ll come get you if anyone comes out.”

“Thank you, dear,” she whispered, grabbing her things. “I’ll try.”

I stood up and gave her a quick hug before she left the waiting room.

“Waiting is the hardest part,” I sighed. “When you’re the patient, you’re knocked out, at least.”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, and my heart started to race. There would be no reason for the doctor to come out to see us so soon unless…

I looked up, holding my breath, and was relieved to see Aaron standing in the doorway. His hair was completely disheveled, and it looked like he had thrown on whatever clothes were closest, wrinkled or not. He was in a pair of jeans and a wrinkled flannel shirt, not exactly summer wear.

Without even thinking, I jumped up and ran to him. Feeling his arms embrace me as I hugged him was the comfort I had waited so long to experience. He squeezed me hard as I buried my head on his chest, crying.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gabby,” he said, trying to comfort me. “He’s gonna be okay.” Aaron was patting my back lightly, attempting to calm me down as my tears finally began to subside.

I released my arms from him and rubbed my nose, looking up at him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, sniffling.

“I’m glad Brandy’s here,” Aaron said, glancing over at her. “I was worried you’d be here by yourself.”

“We convinced Carla to try to take a nap. Did she text you about dad’s surgery?”

“No. I found out downstairs when they directed me where to go,” he replied. “I thought they were still diagnosing and…”

“Me too. I guess the doctor decided to get him in for surgery because his heart attack had been several days ago or something,” I muttered, finding my way back to the chair. I tucked my leg underneath me and turned slightly to face Aaron as he sat down next to me.

“I can’t believe this happened,” I said, feeling a numbness creep over me just like it had when my mom was sick.

“He takes such good care of himself,” Aaron agreed.

“Better than me and I thought I was the one who needed to worry about it,” I said, not realizing what slipped out.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, glancing at Brandy and then at me.

I guess now was as good of time as any to tell Aaron. I took a deep breath in and Brandy slipped her arm over my shoulders to give me a quick squeeze.

“I had a heart transplant when I was nineteen,” I told Aaron, not even bothering to sugarcoat it.

His jaw dropped and he began shaking his head.

“That’s what this is from.” I pulled the neckline of my top down slightly to expose the tip of the scar.

“What?” Aaron asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I had gotten sick and had been on a waitlist for over a year when we got the call.” I glanced at Brandy and back at Aaron. “It was bittersweet. I understood what it meant, trading a life for a life.”

Aaron’s eyes darkened as he sat back in the chair. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. His jawline tensed as he took a deep breath in. I didn’t know what else to say as several minutes passed.

“I know now’s not the time to be angry with a man who’s fighting for his life, but I just…” A muscle twitched in his neck as he shook his head and stood up. He paced in front of Brandy and me, thinking about what to say next.

“It’s not—” I began.

“Don’t make excuses for him or for me,” Aaron interrupted. “I don’t even know how you could forgive me for what I did. I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee. Either of you want one?” He looked over at me, tears filling his eyes.

“I’ll take one,” I muttered, not knowing what to expect next.

“I’ll be right back,” he replied, turning sharply on his heels.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” I asked Brandy.

“Absolutely,” she said, patting my knee. “I think he just realized what being gone a decade really meant.”

“That’s more than me,” I muttered.

Aaron returned with two cups of coffee and handed me one before sitting down.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t blame dad for this. I was my own man and should have reached out to you. But I didn’t. I wish I had been there for you,” he replied, his voice solemn.

“You were only eighteen, but it would have made it easier,” I said, turning to face him, relieved with my candidness. “It really would have... I was so angry with you for leaving. When mom died, dad increased his travel to five or six days a week, and my anger level was out of this world. And to be honest when he was around, he wasn’t that pleasant. I felt so alone. With the help of a therapist, I kind of worked through it. And my imaginary world took over the rest of the time as I was ready and waiting for you to come back until you didn’t. When Carla came into the picture, I didn’t even care. I was numb by then.”

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, his eyes full of sorrow.

I shrugged. “When I got sick, that’s when I wished every moment of every day that you’d return. I don’t understand why dad would’ve kept you away, especially then.”

“I don’t either,” Aaron replied. “I’m so angry at myself for letting him control me. Letting the guilt control me.”

“Guilt?” I asked.

“I just felt like such a fraud. For eighteen years he raised me as his own. And then to find out that I wasn’t his biological son, I felt like I used him so I just stayed away. Did whatever he said to keep peace. When I did try to return, he threatened all kinds of things,” Aaron replied. “Once he found out I was in the military, he used that against me too. He told me you were too fragile to handle that. And if something were to happen to me…”

“I wouldn’t be able to handle it… blah-blah-blah,” I replied, shaking my head. “I feel like those years were stolen from me.”

“They kind of were,” Brandy piped up. “Gabby’s been beating herself up all morning about calling her dad pathetic last night.”

“And now I feel horrible that we’re talking about this stuff while he’s in surgery,” I added, eyeing Brandy.

Aaron’s laughter surprised me as I sat back in the chair.

“What?” I asked.

“I find it amazing that the strongest person in our family is the one who dad had us all convinced we had to protect. When the truth of it was that he was the one who needed to be protected. He was the one who couldn’t deal with anything.”

“Pretty ironic,” I muttered, feeling the walls continually crumbling between Aaron and me. I wanted it to last. I wanted my brother in my life.

“Anyone want a scrumptious homemade scone made by the marvelous Gabby, whose goodies are out of this world?” Brandy asked, shoving the baggie in front of Aaron and me. She had a real knack for lifting the mood.

“Is this mom’s recipe?” Aaron asked.

“With a couple twists,” I said, reaching into the baggie. “Gabby’s goodies, huh? I think I like that.”

“She is one the best bakers,” Brandy continued, taking a bite of a scone she grabbed. “You know, that’s what she had wanted to do back in the day.”

I scowled at her as she took another bite.

“But she didn’t want to disappoint dear old dad,” Brandy said.

“Really?” Aaron asked, arching a brow. “Seems to be a theme.”

“Possibly,” I muttered, kicking Brandy’s ankle.

Aaron took a bite of the scone, and as silly as it sounded, I got nervous as I waited for his reaction.

“Wow. I’m not just saying this, but this is the best scone I’ve ever had,” he said, before taking another bite.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

“I think you’ve really got something here,” he said. “You know Jason’s selling his espresso stand because he has to outsource all of his baked goods. If you—”

I shook my head and started laughing, interrupting Aaron. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Does he know about?” Aaron asked, gesturing toward his heart.

“The transplant? God no,” I said, shuddering. “That’s not exactly first date material and…”

“What?” Aaron asked, his voice softening.

“It’s not that…” I stopped myself. This wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with my brother.

“Sexy,” Brandy interjected. “She’s really self-conscious about it.”

I sighed loudly. “Thanks for that.”

Aaron’s mouth tugged into a slight smile. “I know I’m your brother and all, but you don’t have to get hung up on stuff like that with him or any guy. That’s the least of what we’re thinking about.”

“Ew,” I said, cringing.

“I’ve been trying to tell her that for years,” Brandy chided.

“Can we just drop this, please?” I pleaded.

“I think you should tell him, though,” Aaron replied.

“Please let me tell him,” I told Aaron. “When I’m ready. I just don’t want to scare him off.”