I kissed her cheek. “Bye, Mom.”
She reluctantly let me go, and I hightailed it out of the kitchen before she could ask more questions.
“Bye, Dad,” I said on my way out.
He smiled at me. “Bye, son.”
And with that, I was off to Madeline’s.
I was late, but I had already texted Madeline, so she knew I hadn’t ditched her. She greeted me at the door with a huge mug.
“What’s this?”
“Spiked hot cocoa.”
I grinned. I also saw that she had the gas fireplace running and a Christmas movie pulled up on the television.
“Someone’s ready for the holidays, huh?”
“Always. You know Christmas is my favorite time of year.”
“That I do.”
She grabbed my hand and led me over to the couch. “I thought we could take turns picking movies to watch while we get drunk on peppermint schnapps.”
“I’m game. You know I’m picking Die Hard though, right?”
“I would never expect anything less,” she told me.
Madeline grabbed a blanket and threw it over our laps, and she cuddled up next to me as I put my arm around her.
“Are you ready for me to hit play?” she asked.
“Go for it. What are we watching again?”
We hadn’t had sex since Sunday, and I knew she was almost done with her cycle. If I kissed her, I had a strong feeling she’d melt into me and ask me to take her to the bedroom.
But I didn’t want that. I was more than content to snuggle with her on her couch and watch movies.
“A new Netflix movie. If it’s not good, I’ll turn it off. But the preview looked cute.”
I kissed her on the head. “Works for me.” I was simply happy to be with her. “I have to warn you, I ate a lot of food, and there’s a chance I might fall asleep.”
She patted my stomach. “That’s okay. You sleep today because we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“What’s going on tomorrow? I thought we’d planned to hole ourselves up here and not do anything until I have to work tomorrow night.”
“We’re putting up the Christmas tree.” She grinned up at me.
I groaned playfully. “I should have known.”
“If you do a good job, I’ll have a present for you later.”
“Are you bribing me with sex, babe?”
She laughed. “No. I got you your very own homemade pumpkin pie.”
“You should have led with that. I’d do almost anything for pumpkin pie.”
Thirty
Griffin
The following Monday was like usual, except when I looked outside, the street was decorated for the holidays.
Bar traffic during this time of year was unlike any other. Some of my regulars were too busy to stop in as much as they normally did. Meanwhile, there were people who hated the holidays and came in to drink more than usual.
I was looking at a pretty good crowd for the early afternoon in the beginning of the week when my phone rang.
I could see on my watch that it was my mom, but I was in the middle of pouring a drink with another customer waiting. I would just call her back.
But when my phone rang again, right after my mom hung up, I knew something wasn’t right. My mother did not call multiple times in a row. I couldn’t put this off for later.
I turned to my bartender. “Mitch, I need you to call Casey and see if she can come in.” I had a feeling I was going to need to take off as soon as I answered this call.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure yet. Can you please call her? If she doesn’t answer, call someone else to come in.” I didn’t wait for Mitch to answer; I just ran toward my office.
I had missed my mom’s second call, too, so I quickly dialed her back.
The phone clicked, and I heard crying.
“Mom?” My heart was racing in my chest, and I broke out into a cold sweat.
“Oh, Griffin. I need you to…” Her voice dropped too low for me to hear.
“Mom, I need you to repeat that.”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“Mr. Davis?” a deep, masculine voice said.
“Yes? What is going on?”
“This is Dr. Long. Your father had a heart attack.”
I fell against the wall as if my legs could no longer hold me up. “Is he—is he okay?”
“Your father is alive at this time. But I think it’s best you come to the hospital right away.”
I closed my eyes and fought off panic because I didn’t have time for it. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and stood up.
“What hospital?”
“Southdale.”
“Tell my mom I’m on my way.”
My arrival to the hospital was a blur. I barely remembered leaving the bar, and the next thing I knew, I was asking someone at a desk where Glen Davis was.
My father was still in the emergency department when I got to the hospital, and my mom jumped up from her chair when she saw me in the doorway of my dad’s room.
She rushed toward me.
“Mom, shouldn’t Dad be in the ICU or something like that? There’s no way they can send him home today.”
My mom cupped my face. “Oh, honey. They don’t think your father is going to make it. I was worried you wouldn’t get here in time to say good-bye.”
I stepped back and pushed her hands off me. “No. No way. Dad is healthy.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”
My mom moved toward me again and grabbed my hands. “Shh. It’s okay, Griffin. Why don’t you just go in and talk to him. Okay?”
I nodded even though I was mad at her for telling me that my dad was going to die. I approached the bed and sat in the chair my mom had just vacated.
He was surrounded by machines, and his face was pale. He looked like someone who had put on a mask of my dad. And when I picked up his hand, it was cold.
“Dad, please wake up.”
The last time I had seen him was Thanksgiving. He’d seemed fine. I didn’t understand what had happened.
“I’m sorry I left early. I should have stayed with you.”
I didn’t even know I had been crying until I tasted the tears on my mouth.
“I don’t want to lose you.” I squeezed his hand. “Please, you have to get better. Who am I going to get advice from if you leave?” I joked, but my father didn’t move. And he didn’t squeeze my hand back.
I didn’t know how long my mother had left me alone to talk to my dad, but she came back after some time.
“What happened?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I only know what the doctor and nurses told me. He was at work in the back of the warehouse, and someone found him unconscious. They called 911 and brought him here.”
“He wasn’t complaining of any chest pain?” I asked.
“No.”
“No complaints about anything?” I found it hard to believe there hadn’t been any signs.
“Griffin, honey, if he had any symptoms, he didn’t share them with me.”