When he pokes his head around the curtain, I smile at him gratefully. Having him here doesn’t make anything easier; it just means I have someone to cling to. I feel lost, like I’m stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean with waves crashing around me, growing more intense and terrifying with each one.
Tim takes my hand and looks over at Theo. “Heather told me about the twin thing. It’s crazy how much they look alike. Now, I see why you didn’t know.”
I nod and chew on my lip. “Tim, can you ask them if there’s any news about Jared? I asked them earlier, and they said they can’t tell me anything because I’m not next of kin.” I look at him pleadingly.
He nods and leaves, coming back a couple of minutes later and shaking his head. “No news yet. He’s in surgery.”
His eyes are alight with concern, and my body goes cold.
“What aren’t you telling me? What else did they say?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. They didn’t say anything else. It’s just … he’s in a bad way, Amy. He might not …” He shakes his head again, and he doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
Jared might not make it. I can see the sorrow and anguish on Tim’s face.
I blink rapidly when my eyes burn with unshed tears. I refuse to let myself believe it. “He’ll be fine. He has to be.” Because I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s not. I shake my head and lift my chin. “He’ll be fine,” I repeat, more confident this time, pushing down my inner voice that isn’t quite so sure.
Silence lapses over us. He just sits with me and holds my hand until Jared’s parents arrive. They bustle in, a hysterical sobbing mess, and Deborah leans over Theo’s unconscious body, fussing with the sheets and stroking his face. Kenneth looks down at me sadly, and I stand.
Tim squeezes my hand. “I’ll leave you to it now. I should get back to work.”
Kenneth turns to him, his eyes wide with urgency as he spots his nurse uniform and name tag. “Can you tell us anything? How are they? Have they given any indication how the surgery’s going?”
Tim clears his throat, and his eyes flick to me and then back to Kenneth again. “I’m sorry. I don’t work in this department. I’m a friend of Amy’s. I saw her come in, so I’ve just been keeping her company, waiting for you. You should ask at the nurses’ station; they’ll call upstairs for you and get an update.”
“Oh.” Kenneth nods and steps aside, so Tim can pass. Then, he steps to my side and puts a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Have they told you anything? Why is Theo still out?” His fingers dig into my shoulder, and Deborah looks up at me hopefully.
I shake my head. “They won’t tell me anything. I’m not next of kin. Every time I ask, they just say they can’t tell me anything. They just said I could wait in here with him until you arrived.”
Deborah’s distraught eyes flick to her husband in a silent plea, and he nods in understanding.
“I’ll go find someone.” He leaves, and I go to Deborah’s side, wrapping my arm around her shaking shoulders.
She turns in my arms and hugs me tightly. We cling to each other like we’re both on that rock in the middle of the ocean, just waiting for a lifeline to come save us.
Kenneth is pale when he comes back, and my muscles tense. He swallows a couple of times.
“Okay, so Theo has a broken leg, couple of ribs. They’re going to send him up to surgery soon to set his leg. The doctor thinks it needs to be pinned.”
My eyes flick to his leg, and I wince, a cold shiver trickling down my back.
“Other than that, he’s doing okay. Scans and tests all came back good. They’re just keeping the head blocks on as a precaution, as he’s likely to have muscle damage in his neck.”
I nod. Waiting.
He clears his throat again, reaching up a shaky hand to wipe at his face. “Jared is in surgery now. He was driving and hit the steering column hard. There’s … some damage to his heart.”
His heart? Oh God.
A whimper slips from my mouth, and I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms, trying to fight for control when all I want to do is scream and wail.
“They’re in surgery now, fixing the blood vessels or something. There’s some other stuff, but it’s the heart they’re most concerned about.” Kenneth’s voice cracks as he says it.
He’ll be fine. I repeat it silently, over and over in my head. I can’t bear to think about any other outcome.
Jared Stone is not allowed to die. I simply forbid it.
Kenneth goes to Deborah’s side and holds her while she cries. I feel a little like I’m intruding in their moment, but I can’t seem to make myself move. My whole body is numb and frozen to the spot.
“When they bring him out of surgery, they’ll place him on the cardiology ward upstairs. They said there’s a waiting room up there we could sit in, or they’ll call down once he’s out.”
Deborah pushes Kenneth away from her. “You go. You go upstairs and wait for Jared. I’ll stay here and wait for Theo.”
Their eyes meet in silent conversation, and Kenneth nods, his arms dropping to his sides.
“Okay.” He turns to me. “Would you like to come upstairs with me, or would you rather …”
He looks back to his lifeless son lying in the bed, and I know in that instant that they know about the whole situation and the mistaken identity, my confused feelings.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I want to see Jared.” My words are confident, and I lift my chin, expecting some confrontation about the whole thing.
But Kenneth just smiles sadly and nods, leaning in to kiss his wife on the top of the head before stepping to the curtain and pulling it aside to make a gap. I force a smile and step to Deborah’s side, rubbing her back as she fusses over Theo again, brushing the hair away from his face, dabbing and wiping at his dirty face with a tissue she’s produced from her bag.
She pats my hand but doesn’t take her eyes from Theo. “Let me know as soon as you hear anything, okay?”
I nod and turn, following Kenneth as he strides from the room. I follow him out on my wobbly legs, trying to match my outer demeanour to his cool and calm one. He reminds me a lot of Jared—fearless, unfazed by life, ready to take on the world. I try to tap in on that strength because I feel like I’m two seconds from having a full-blown mental breakdown. The air around me feels thin, and I feel a little light-headed.
When we get to the ward, a nurse shows us to the waiting room, promising to let us know as soon as she hears something. Kenneth and I sit. The TV is on, but I just can’t concentrate on the words. We don’t really speak other than the odd mumbled pleasantry. Neither of us has polite chitchat in us as the worry builds and builds. My eyes flit up to the clock on the wall every three minutes, which makes the time drag even further.
It’s a very long two hours before a woman walks in, wearing surgery scrubs. My heart stutters in my chest. Kenneth jumps up, his features alight with worry. I’m watching the lady’s body language, trying to second-guess what she’s about to say. Is that expression one of sorrow, or is that small smile a good sign? I feel sick as I push myself to standing, too, and wait.