Tears form in his eyes and immediately slide down his cheeks. I yank him forward into my arms. My own eyes fill again, and there’s not a shot in hell I can stop them from falling.
I hold my son against my chest for a moment longer before I pull back, shouldering my tears away.
“Can you be brave and keep Gemma in her room for me? I know this is hard, but I don’t want her to know yet. Can you do that for me? Just for a little bit.”
He sniffs, his bottom lip still trembling, but he nods. “Yeah. I’ll keep Gemma in her room.”
I pull him toward me and kiss his forehead. He slides the heels of his hands against his cheeks before going to Gemma’s room. He looks so goddamn sad when he looks back at me before slipping into the room.
With my sternum feeling like it’s cracked open and my heart bleeding out of my chest, I rush back into my and Molly’s room. Quickly grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I go back to her side of the bed. She looks exactly the same as when I left her a few minutes ago.
I have no fucking idea how I’m going to make it through this. I knew this day would come, but nothing could have prepared me for it.
Falling to my knees again, my forehead drops to her arm as I blindly dial nine-one-one. While I listen to it ring, I lock my fingers around her wrist and search for her pulse again.
Forty minutes later, I’ve got a sobbing Gemma in my arms. Gray’s smashed against my side with Nancy’s arm around his shoulders. Jenna’s on my other side, rubbing soothing circles on Gemma’s back. We all have tears running down our faces.
With the exception of Gemma, who has her face pressed against my shoulder, soaking the material of my shirt, we’re all watching as the paramedics load Molly into the back of the ambulance.
There’s still no response from her. The paramedic who checked her vitals said her heart rate was lower than normal, but it wasn’t dangerously low. They were more worried about her oxygen levels, which were so low they immediately put an oxygen mask on her. They informed me had I not called an ambulance when I did, there was a good chance Molly would have stopped breathing.
Leaning my head away from Gemma, I force her head up so I can look into her eyes.
“Hey, beauty, I’m gonna leave you with Gammy and Jenna for a little while, so I can ride to the hospital with Momma.”
Her poor little face is scrunched up in pain. She shakes her head so hard tears fly from her cheeks. “Take me with you,” she sobs. “I wanna ride with Momma too.”
Her pleas tear through my heart with a sharpness of a scalpel. I want to stay with her and Gray because I know they need me right now, but I also really need to go with Molly. I’m scared to death to let her out of my sight. What if her heart stops on the way to the hospital? What if she stops breathing, despite the help the paramedics are giving her? What if I get to the hospital and she’s… gone?
Using my thumb, I wipe away some of Gemma’s tears. “Baby, you can’t ride in the ambulance. There’s only enough room for one person. I know you’re scared right now. But I don’t want to leave Momma alone. She needs me to ride with her.”
I know she wants to argue more. I can see the words on the tip of her tongue. But Nancy steps closer, directing Gemma’s attention to her.
“We’re all going to follow behind your momma and daddy. We’ll meet them at the hospital. Okay?”
She bites her trembling bottom lip. “You promise?”
“I promise, sweetie.”
Several seconds pass before she nods. “Okay.”
I set her down, but she wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my stomach. My throat closes as I hug her tightly to me. I cup her cheeks and bend to kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you in a little while, beauty.”
I move to Gray next. His red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “Watch over your sister, okay?”
“I will.”
Leaving them behind, I quickly walk over to the ambulance before they can close the doors. Climbing inside, I take the seat closest to Molly’s head and away from the paramedic that’s in the back with me. Resting my elbows on my knees, I grab her limp hand and bring it to my lips.
“Please don’t leave me, Molly.” My voice cracks. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
The doors leading to the emergency room open and Dr. Vegas, Molly’s neurologist, walks out. It’s been four hours since I was forced to leave Molly’s side while she was admitted. Four long hours of waiting and worrying she was going to slip away. It felt more like four days.
I’m already walking across the waiting room when Dr. Vegas’ eyes meet mine. Nancy and Douglas are behind me, along with my mom and Lindsay, who both showed up right after I was pushed into the waiting room. Jenna stays back with the kids, which I’m grateful for. I’d rather tell them any bad news myself rather than them hear it from the doctor.
“How is she?” Nancy asks before I can. I’m not even sure I can form words at the moment without breaking down.
Dr. Vegas’ expression is somber when she addresses her question. “I’m afraid her condition is as I expected it would be in this stage of her illness. She’s in a deep coma.”
I close my eyes, and my heart plummets to my stomach. I can hear Nancy crying softly beside me.
Douglas clears his throat before he asks, “What are the chances she could wake up?”
“I’m afraid to say there really is no chance. The EEG scans show minimal brain activity. We’ll do the test again in a few days and monitor her progress.” Sympathy and compassion fill her eyes when they move to me. “I’ve done extensive research on GSS since I took on Molly’s case, and I’ve consulted with doctors who have seen it before. There are no known cases of the patient waking up once they reach this stage.”
“How—” I stop and clear my throat. “How long do we have left with her?”
“I can’t give a definite answer. Some patients have lasted only a couple of weeks, while others a few months. I can only advise you to spend as much time with her to say your final words while you can.”
How in the hell do you say goodbye to the love of your life? How do you tell her everything you want to say—things that you’re supposed to have years and years of time to say—in a matter of only weeks? I’ve told Molly I love her several times a day since the first day we confessed our feelings, but I still haven’t told her enough. There should be thousands of more I love yous.
“When can we see her?” I croak.
“She’s being taken into a room now. As soon as she’s settled, a nurse will come get you. Given the situation, I’m not limiting the number of visitors. Just please keep it reasonable.”
With another sympathetic look, Dr. Vegas walks off, leaving us behind with our hearts bleeding out on the floor. When Molly started seeing the elderly neurologist, I immediately liked her. She came highly recommended in her field and Molly felt comfortable with her.
Right now, I hate her. I hate her so much I feel the heat of that hate in my bones. It’s not her fault—she’s done everything she could for Molly—but she’s the one who told me my wife is basically in a vegetative state and will be that way until she dies.