Making special arrangements for the baby to be moved into a different room across the hall that had a private sitting area wasn’t a hardship. It served both the baby and I better because I could be right next to her. And with the sitting room adjacent, it was convenient for me without having the need to find a hotel room to sleep for the night. In the eventuality that something was to happen, she could be immediately well taken care of by the nurses that were stationed right outside so that at least eased some of my worries.
The difficult part was the staff asking me if I was considering cremation for Amelia, the funeral arrangements and so forth drew me speechless. With a quick call to Amelia’s parents’ home, I was notified that they departed for Turks and Caicos earlier this morning, leaving me to deal solely with the decisions.
I had none. I wasn’t sure if there was some religious ritual that the Catholics did when one died. I had not a goddamn clue.
Shoving my phone away in my pocket, I finally sat down and took a deep breath. My body had been knotted all day from what happened. I felt exhaustion seep in to me immediately, weighing me down for a nap.
+++
I was awakened by hushed voices murmuring in the background. I continued to be in my dream state, yet my body was alert. In the back recesses of my mind I thought this was a part of a dream, that I was here, alone and hearing voices was only pure hallucination, or maybe my exhaustion was playing tricks with me.
As the seconds ticked, my brain started to rouse. A flashback of the horrid events from yesterday—the goodbye; Amelia’s lifeless, cold body; the hospital; the double doors; seeing the baby in the incubator for the first time; and all the while hearing the nurse’s voice boom in the background. Rewind and fast-forward, it went on one more time before I heard Amelia’s voice saying, Until we meet again, Toby Watson. Then everything went blank, fully waking me out of my dream.
I immediately sat upright, dizzy and groggy as I pressed on the base of my nose between my eyes, hoping that applying small pressure would help me with the massive headache that threatened to split my head open.
“He’s up,” someone whispered in a voice that sounded like Chad’s.
My eyes cracked open, searching from left then to right, finding Sienna, Chad and Blake standing against the glass wall that divided the new room for the baby and the sitting area. They had probably been gazing at the baby all the while thinking how unfortunate she was to be in there, and I hated the fact that she was. Even though nothing was for certain that she was my own flesh and blood, I felt some kind of kinship with her, as if she was mine already.
It was Sienna who came towards me first, followed by Chad; Blake stayed in his spot, assessing like he always did. I just knew the man too well. We had, after all, grown up together.
“So sorry you’re going through this. It seriously breaks my heart—she’s so tiny.” Sienna sat next to me, hugging me first before she started sobbing. It somehow ended up with me consoling her.
She was a tough woman—could endure the toughest mental breakdowns a woman could ever experience. The tears in her eyes brought immediate wretchedness as I recalled what the nurse had told me yesterday.
Chad did the same, teary-eyed and all, however he kept his distance, possibly trying to compose himself because he didn’t want to end up like Sienna.
Lucy… she didn’t come. I knew we had a lot of differences, but this was something rather vital. Her being here would’ve at least showed that she cared. I supposed things were truly done with us now. Not even friendship… or the mere idea of it anyway.
“Have you had anything to eat?” Blake questioned, making me dart my gaze towards him.
He didn’t offer any words of comfort, not even trying to empathize on the sad situation, which was troubling me more than anything. After all, he and I went beyond years and decades of friendship—we were brothers—so his standoffish demeanor only baffled me further.
Clearing my throat, I reached out to the half-drunk bottled water on the coffee table, shaking my head in response before twisting the cap open and finishing the rest.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. There’s a café next door that serves strong coffee and a light breakfast,” he said in a serious manner. “Chad and Sienna can take over watching the baby.”
“Yeah, I suppose I could do with a bit coffee.” I got up and walked right next to him, glancing towards the baby inside the glass room.
There was a nurse within the room, writing on her chart as her eyes diverted back and forth from the screen, the baby and her chart. Everything remained the same, I noted, as I concentrated on the tiny baby inside attached with tubes, its barely developed body and its dependency on the machine to keep her alive.
“I’ll be right outside the door when you’re ready.”
Blake wanted to give me a moment, they all did, as I comprehended the situation and the challenge ahead of me. It wasn’t a question about my own capacity, if I could or couldn’t. It was merely an inevitable decision that I would fight alongside for this little baby’s battle of survival, that I would do everything in me to keep on fighting until the very end.
Spinning around, Sienna and Chad were holding each other, mute and still, as they brought each other comfort, just as they’d done last year when both of them had gone through a tough period.
Each and every one of us had our own battles to get through; some harder than others, some much more draining. Sienna and Chad already had gone through with theirs. Now, sadly, it was my turn.
Chapter 19
Toby
Just as he’d stated, Blake was waiting outside the door, browsing through his phone before looking up and giving me a curt nod. Side by side we walked outside the hospital and were greeted by the rays of the early morning sun as we headed towards the café.
Two black coffees. No sugar. Two croissants.
Just like I had said before, we were brothers. We had grown up together liking mostly the same things—the only exception was women. Thank the gods. Well—all but one really.
“Amelia’s dead,” I said it in a matter of fact tone as I pulled the ends of my croissant and took a bite. It felt and tasted like dust on my tongue, but I ate it anyway. If I wanted to take care of the baby as I had promised to be there for her, I had to keep up my energy. So I had no choice except to swallow the vile tasting food in my mouth, though eating was the last thing I felt like doing.
Blake took a long sip of his scalding hot coffee, as if it was nothing. Sure, he was half Italian and thrived on cappuccinos and espressos, however even Italians had sensitive tongues. Blake’s most likely was immune to it—it was an amusing thought, but I had always wondered each and every time we’d had coffee together. Through the years of being friends and working alongside him, the same bloody thought appeared, yet I never really uttered a word about it.