by Faye, Amy
Deep breath. Craig looked out the window. They were descending. It was slow, though. He hadn't noticed it from the feeling, but he could almost make out individual buildings, now. Were they over Colorado, or had they hit the Oklahoma border yet?
Almost as if to answer his question, the nose of the plane dipped, and Craig's stomach did a little flip. It felt like the reaction he should've had to Emma's little revelation, but he hadn't.
She was right to be concerned about it.
He tightened the seat-belt around his waist back down, sat up straight in the chair. An announcement came over the speaker. 'We're now preparing to make final descent into Will Rogers World Airport. Please remain seated until we've come to a complete stop at the terminal. Thank you for flying Delta.'
Craig watches out the window as they dip hard. The feeling in his gut just got worse as they went down. They were fine. The plane was completely under control. There's nothing to be nervous about.
The buildings get bigger, and bigger, until he can make out individual streets, and then cars on the streets. And then, as they get real close, maybe only a few hundred feet, down to the point where he can identify which cars are what models.
The nose rises a little bit, right at the end. They hit the landing strip with a bump and taxi to a stop. Craig's heart stops pounding a thousand miles an hour as it slowly starts to taxi over to their terminal.
Deep breath. They stop for a second. Out the window is just a wide field. Nothing to see. Why they're waiting, he can't begin to guess, but they wait for five minutes, then ten, then fifteen.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, they start moving again, rolling slowly in until…
'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Oklahoma City. Please watch your step as you exit the cabin, and have a great stay.'
Emma stands up first. She pulls the backpack out from under her seat and shrugs it over her shoulder. Craig follows behind her into the aisle, making sure to stay close behind.
At least they don't have to stay at a hotel. They can stay at the house. There's plenty of space there. Just a rental car, and then they're good to go.
Whether or not Craig is ready, on the other hand… that's the real question.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emma isn't sure how badly she's screwed up yet, but the fact that she shouldn't here… that much wasn't a question, not any more.
It wasn't until she had more time to think things through that everything started to really roil in her stomach. The car that they rented probably cost more, per day, than the entire budget she spent on food during a week.
Craig, of course, didn't seem to think of it as a big deal. It was just a natural choice. Why would he get a compact, after all? And if not getting a compact, then why skimp when you can afford a little comfort?
Her head hurt. Jesus. What had she gotten herself into? And then she was going to have to meet his family. Just an extension of being there in the first place. Not as his girlfriend, or anything. But they wouldn't see it that way.
What would they think about him having brought a "girlfriend" along with him? The idea seemed strange in lots of different ways. He'd never settled on just one girl before. Not in the years that they'd both been there.
Even as a freshman, Craig Weston had been the golden boy, the incoming hope for the team. She'd been a bundle of nerves and everything, but even then it didn't take long for the gossip machine to get going.
How much of that gossip had been entirely true? Who knows. But eventually, she'd seen that at least some of it must have been. Now here he was, bringing her along, and it was going to look, to an outsider, a hell of a lot like they might have been dating. Which, all by itself, was… Jeez.
It took a while for Emma to notice that he was studiously avoiding going home. He drove around in circles, tracing his way through the streets. At first she thought he was going straight there, and then she thought that he might be lost.
But the way that it kept up, the way that he continued to move in a big, wide arc around Oklahoma City, told her that he was avoiding it.
Was that because of her? Was he embarrassed to have her there? It didn't even occur to Emma before that it might. Even though he'd tried to tell her, said his family would all be there. Maybe that's what he meant, that it would be awkward.
Finally he pulls into a seven-eleven parking lot and cuts off the engine, drops his head onto the wheel.
"Emma, what the fuck am I doing?"
"What's wrong?"
He doesn't answer for a long time. "I don't know."
"You're worried about your mother, maybe?"
"Well, I mean, yeah. I fuckin' am."
"So you think it's something else?"
"I keep trying to go to the hospital. I get about a mile in that direction, and then I just… I don't know. I can't."
"You're scared. There's nothing wrong with that."
It's impossible to imagine Craig Weston as scared. He doesn't seem like the type, and it's understandable that he wouldn't seem that way, because he clearly doesn't even realize himself that it is a distinct possibility.
"I guess."
"Just keep yourself calm, Craig. Deep breaths. What do you know about what's going on?"
"They found a, I dunno. Something. Routine check. As of right now, it's not entirely clear how bad we're talking about. They're trying to make it sound like it's nothing. But, I mean. You know doctors, right? They're always making things sound less bad than they are."
"Yeah." Emma doesn't like how sad her voice sounds. This isn't about her being upset. It's supposed to be a time to comfort Craig.
"Okay. You ready?"
Emma plasters a terrified smile onto her face. "Sure!"
The engine kicks back to life. It's quiet, especially compared to the Convertible. Especially compared to her father's truck. She can barely hear it, in the sealed-up cabin, even as Craig puts the pedal down to pull a left back into traffic.
Emma watches Craig's face. He's inscrutable, as always. He wants to keep up a constant appearance of being real friendly and all smiles, and he's good at it.
She puts her hand on his leg anyways, as a little sign of her affection. It doesn't occur to her until moments later how that might look to an outsider. Craig won't think it, she hopes, but he'll notice.
He'll notice, and he'll think about thinking it. Then he'll decide that he's reading into things too much and he'll move on.
Unlike her, because now that the idea's in her head, it's there for good. Jesus. She's here to be helpful. To be steady for him. To be there when he falls, and if things go bad, he will fall.
Not to think about what she could've had if she hadn't told him 'no' before. Not to think about their future, together, in a bedroom.
But the thought was in her head, now, and it wasn't coming out any better than it had been before. Emma moves her hand down further, to his knee, where she lingers only for a moment before pulling away. Better that she not let herself get any more ideas right before she goes in to meet his God damned parents.
The hospital is hard to make out. It's big, but set a ways back from the street, so you barely see it coming before WHAM, you've passed it already.
"Up there, on the right," Emma says, softly.
The rental car sails by. Craig's thumb taps on the wheel, pretty hard. "One second. I just need a minute."
Emma watches his face. There's nothing on it. His expression looks plain, even smooth. But there must be something going on in that head of his, if he's upset enough to do this, and knows enough to admit that he needs the time.
"Alright."
He drives on for another mile before turning around at the next intersection and driving back. Past again. Turn around again. Finally, he seems to reluctantly make the decision to pull the car over towards the side.
The parking lot is mostly empty. Looking at the digital numbers on the car's radio face, it's about supper time. But they're not thinking about eating right now.
"Emma?"
"Yeah?"
"Nothing."
He takes a breath, and for a moment he seems like he's getting ready to get out of the car. Then he doesn't. Head back again. Deep breath.
"I'm here, if you need to talk."
"What am I supposed to do in there?"
"What?"
"What the fuck am I even supposed to say? How do I act?"
The question hits Emma weird. How is he supposed to act? What kind of question is that?
"I don't know. Just, act normal, maybe?"
"What's that even mean?" He moves from sitting back to sitting forward. Head rested on the wheel again.
"I don't understand, Craig. You're going to have to be clearer."
"I just. I don't know. Don't worry about it."
"I'm pretty worried about it. Just. Okay. I get it." Emma takes a breath and tries to get her head straight. "Here's what you should say. Go in, ask what happened, what the situation is. If anyone's spoken to the doctor, what's the diagnosis, how does everything look, is she going to be okay, and so on."
"That sounds fine, I guess," he says. Deep breath, head back against the headrest. No problem. He's got this all under control. Right? Everything is fine. No problems at all.
Craig takes a deep breath. Emma watches him, as if he's moving in slow motion. Every little action seems to carry with it an absurd amount of weight, as if every little thing is open to interpretation somehow.
The keys come out. He tosses them into his left hand, opens the door. And then, as if he'd never been upset for a second, he's back to normal. The mask slips back into place, and Craig Weston is waiting for her right outside the car.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Craig takes another deep breath, and it's a few too many already. The oxygen goes straight to his head. His vision starts to go dark, but the rush almost helps for a minute to control his nerves. They're going too crazy.
Everything is on edge. He takes a breath again. Under control. Slow. His entire body feels like it's moving wrong, but he'll figure it out somehow. He'll have to. He always has in the past, and this time isn't any different.
The doors are automatic as he steps up. Emma's a few steps behind. She's nervous. Which would be cuter if he wasn't just as nervous as she is. It's understandable. There are very few things that are lower on Craig's list of things to do than meet some girl's parents.
That goes double for his own parents, since they are… well, Craig lived with them for his entire life, and they're still an experience. It's hard to imagine what they are going to be like for her. Then again, if he's lucky, they'll actually buy it that she's just a friend that he brought along.
If he's not lucky—and while Craig Weston is many things, lucky has never been one of them—they'll hear what they want to hear, and it will be a very fun trip for his sisters and nobody else.
Craig tightens up his stomach after it tries to do a flip. No time for nerves right now. No time for thinking about how bad things can go any second. No time at all. Think later.
He pulls the phone out. 263. Okay. Craig jabs the elevator button; a few seconds later, the elevator doors open. A nurse steps inside before them. Craig follows, and Emma's only an instant behind.
She's trying hard to hide her expression, now. It doesn't work for her, of course. She's not good at it. But she's trying, and he has to give her credit for that, even if she's not doing so well.
The elevator doors open again on the second floor, and Craig steps out onto his mother's floor. The place is too bright. The floors are all white, the walls all a pale yellowish color that might have been friendly and light to someone, but to Craig, they're nothing of the sort. Just distracting, just annoying.
A sign says to turn right. The next one divides the room numbers in half again. Left turn. He follows the signs mechanically. Emma follows behind. Only a step or two behind.
She smiles when he looks back at her. It's not the intentionally-terrified smile she had on in the car. This one is legitimately-terrified, but she's trying to pretend that it's not.
It would be endearing in any other situation, but then Craig's stomach does another twisting flip, and whatever part of him might have felt endeared goes away.
They're getting close to 263. Probably not far past the upcoming turnaround. The hospital halls are twisted up like a Celtic knot, but it's not hard to figure out the numbering scheme.
Craig stops short of being able to see his mother's room and leans against the wall for a minute. He braces himself. Whatever he's going to see in there, it's no big deal until they tell him it's a big deal, right?
Everyone looks worse than they are in a hospital. When mom gets out, she's going to go back home, and she'll look same as normal. That's how it is.
When you're in the hospital, they dope everyone up on all kinds of shit. Makes you tired, makes you act weird. None of it means anything unless the doctor says it means something, and then, only maybe.
Right?
Emma's voice cuts through his thoughts. "You gonna be alright?"
"I'll be fine." He straightens himself. Goes through the procedure, straightens his posture. It's to the point where he doesn't have to think about it, most of the time, but sometimes it still helps to calm him down to do it slow, think about every step.
"Alright, let's go."
He starts moving forward. Emma doesn't follow, and it doesn't take him more than a moment to notice.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know if this is a good idea. I'll wait outside, if you want."
Craig doesn't know what the hell he wants. If she wants to wait outside, there's no reason she should have to come in. And yet… he doesn't say anything before she cuts in again.
"Never mind, I'll come in with you."
A weight lifts off his shoulders that Craig hopes she doesn't see. "Alright."
He starts moving again. She's behind him, and he can't see her, but somehow it's as if knowing that Emma's there is helpful all by itself. Like she's holding his strings up, to make sure he doesn't fall down.
The room they've got her in has another bed in it, the sheets crisply turned down. No patient information on the wall, though, and the bed's empty.
Dad looks up at him for a second as Craig comes in. He doesn't say anything. He rarely does, though. It's not Christmas, so he doesn't have a routine prepared, which means that you get acknowledged momentarily and then passed over.
"Hey," Craig says. He puts a hand on his mother's bed frame, and then takes it back off again a minute later.
"She's still asleep. They've got her on some stuff."
Dad's eyes move over to Emma. He looks at her for an instant before looking back at Craig. Nothing to say. His face betrays none of his thoughts, which is about typical.
"What did the doctors say?"
Dad sits forward and traces the bones in Mom's hand with his thumb. "Not enough. Doctors are always keeping their secrets, right? Can't tell anyone anything. That would be too damn helpful."
"Okay, but is it bad?"
"It's not great," Dad says.
"Where's Amanda? She's the one who called me, I figured she'd be here."
"She's out with your sisters, getting some supper. Take a seat."
Craig looks at the seat next to him and doesn't move. Neither, he notices, does Emma.
"Have you eaten?" Dad's face makes a little movement that in someone else might have been interpreted as an expression. In him, it's little more than a tick.
"I'll eat later."
Craig can't tell him to go eat. After all, the man wouldn't listen in the first place even if he tried to force it, so what was the point? Sometimes, the path of least resistance is the right way to go.
"You know if the doctor will be back around? I'd like to know what the heck we're talking about here."
"It's in her ovaries, I guess. There's some talk that there is a good chance she'll g
et better, with surgery and treatment."
"Yeah?"
"They say eight in ten."
"That's great." Craig doesn't feel great. Eight in ten means two in ten don't get better at all. And Dad doesn't look like he's taking the news much better than Craig is.
Emma's been silent the whole time. She seems to be stiffly hiding on the other side of the room. As if she could make herself invisible by pressing herself up against the wall.
Dad glances up at her again. Another momentary glance. He's curious about her presence, that much is clear. But he's not going to ask, and the truth is that Craig doesn't know what he would tell his father in the first place.
So he says nothing. The questions can come later. When Amanda gets here, it'll be nothing but questions. Questions, questions, questions. But until then, there's a few brief minutes of peace and quiet.
Mom sleeping looks strange. She's slept plenty of times, but she sleeps on her side. Every time that Craig's ever seen her, that's been how she's slept. Now, on her back, she's barely moving. The gown fits loosely, and it makes her look small and frail. Nothing like the woman that she ever was the rest of her life.
Being in the hospital at all makes Craig's skin crawl. Seeing her like this, though… he swallows the thought and closes his eyes a moment, long enough to get himself centered and his head straightened out.
He can hear the sound of his sisters' voices, down the hall. There's not going to be long now, until they get here, and when that happens, everything starts going crazy again for a little while.
But until then, there are going to be a few short minutes of peace and quiet and hoping to hell that 8 in 10 are good enough odds this time.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The thing that Emma Owens can't get over, no matter how hard she tries, isn't even her nerves. It's not the man sitting there beside his wife, or the fact that both of those are Craig's parents.
It's not even the fact that she doesn't know what to do, or how to act around these people that she's never met before, and very possibly won't meet again.
