Val was in a mode of high competence. Sign in here. Take this badge. Yes, we’re both his mothers. It was a weeknight and chilly after weeks of abnormal warmth, and the emergency room was relatively empty. A couple of sniffling children, a person holding an ice pack to their hand. It was easier to focus on them than on the phrase “He’s still in surgery.”
The television played a home improvement show where people got absurdly excited about other people removing all the personality from their homes, and Julie watched while she ran web searches for “hit by a train” and learned that it mattered what kind of train, how fast it was going, how exactly the person had been hit.
Her Pilot, always reliable, let her watch both screens while also watching the doors for movement, and siphoning off the silent scream she was trying her best not to let out. They sat in uncomfortable plastic seats, and at one point Val’s knee touched Julie’s and Julie held her breath, waiting for it to be drawn away again, but it stayed, and she narrowed all her focus to that contact, tuning out the television, the other people, the doors, the search results, the scream.
“We should call Sophie,” Julie said, then corrected herself. “You should call Sophie. She’ll answer your call.”
Val shifted in her seat, breaking the knee connection. “No. She doesn’t like half states.”
“Half states?”
“Do you remember? She didn’t want to know when David was coming home until he came home. She didn’t want to know the side effects of her medications unless we noticed them. We’ll call her as soon as he’s out of surgery.”
Julie liked the phrase “out of surgery” better than “still in surgery,” so that made sense, as long as the one followed the other. “What if he doesn’t—”
“Don’t say it. Nobody has said that.”
“They said ‘hit by a train.’”
“But he’s alive. He’s tough.”
Julie risked reaching out and taking Val’s hand in hers, and Val squeezed back once, then returned Julie’s hand to her lap. The squeeze lifted Julie’s heart; maybe everything would be okay. A nurse called them in after what was too long, what was only made better by a moment of a hand in another hand, something Julie had always taken for granted and never would again.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
SOPHIE
It was Sophie’s own fault that David had been in the hospital for a full day before she got the news. Val had left two voice messages an hour apart while Sophie was busy, and who listened to voice messages? If the phone had rung three times in a row, she would have answered, maybe. If Val had texted, she’d have read it, but no texts, which was why Sophie didn’t even find out from Val. She found out because Gabe held his phone out to her halfway through a meeting and said, “Um, Soph, is this your brother?”
The article was brief, a headline with little more to go on:
LOCAL MAN HIT BY TRAIN
David Geller-Bradley, 25, was struck by a light-rail train when his foot became trapped in the track-switching mechanism. He was taken to Pimlico General, where he is listed in stable condition.
The news story didn’t answer any number of questions she had, starting with why he was on a train track, and why he didn’t notice a train coming. The important part was “stable condition.” She pulled her muted phone from her pocket and discovered two missed calls and two voice mails. They hadn’t hidden it from her; they just couldn’t reach her.
The whole circle was watching her, and it felt a bit like when she came out of a seizure to find everyone staring.
“I have to go,” she said.
Gabe smoothly took over the group, asking a question she forgot as soon as she heard it, clearly meant to redirect everyone. He was a good friend.
She went to the office to get her wallet and make sure she had enough money to get out to the hospital on the opposite side of the city. Not that it was about inconvenience to her. If that was the closest hospital and they had saved him, then it was the best hospital ever. Her stupid brother, Local Man Hit by Train.
“Is everything okay?” Dominic stood in the doorway.
“Yeah. No. Uh, my brother is at Pimlico General. I’ve got to get over there.”
“Do you want a ride?”
Relief washed over her. “Please, if you don’t mind. I feel like you’re always rescuing me.”
“My pleasure. Anything for the cause. Or for the leader of the cause.”
“I’m not the leader,” she said.
“Co-leader, then. You’ve got to know this group is so good because of your energy. You and Gabe both.”
“Sure, I guess.”
She followed Dominic out to the street and into a driving, cold rain. For a minute she thought the rain must have somehow confused David, but no, he had been hit the night before, not tonight. Clear skies. Hit by a train.
They didn’t speak as Dominic programmed the hospital into his GPS and pulled a U-turn in the first intersection. Once he was pointed in the right direction, he broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know anything! Only what was in an article stub Gabe showed me, and a voice mail from my mom. It said my brother was hit by a train, which makes no sense. I mean, sure, he got his Pilot turned off, but it was still working.
