Ghosts (A Christian Yelich Story)

Chapter Eighty-Three: Stupid Kid

My goal is to post the epilogue of this story on Christmas, so enjoy my alarming post rate. 🎄

Anyway, here's Hannah's profound perspective on life this time around. She's the real MVP of this story.

***

I sat with Andrew in the waiting room after making about twenty phone calls to Annie and Christian's family members.

Annie's mom was driving to Chicago, so she could hop on an early morning flight to LAX in a few hours. Alecia, Christian's mom, was already on her way to the hospital. Christian was hopefully trying to get here too . . .

I nervously fidgeted with my hands, and Andrew calmingly touched my arm when he noticed. "Do you want some coffee?" he asked. "There's a 24-hour Starbucks around here."

I offered him the best smile I could muster. "That's really sweet, but I'm okay."

"All right, but if there's anything more I can do for you, I'm happy to do it."

"Honestly, it's just really nice you're here. You can totally go back to the house and get some sleep, though. Annie would want you to rest."

"Nah, I should be here with you."

I blushed a little. "Okay," I said softly. Okay, okay, okay. It was the best I could do right now.

A female voice interrupted our quiet conversation.

"Would either of you like to explain what my idiot son did?" a flustered Alecia asked before handing both me and Andrew a cup of coffee each. This woman was a literal saint who could read our thoughts from the other side of the county.

Andrew smiled at me and then at Alecia. "Thanks."

"Your son might actually be the devil," I commented.

Alecia sighed. "Emotional awareness isn't really his strong suit. How are our girls, though?"

I shook my head in disappointment. "We haven't heard anything yet."

"How long has it been?" Alecia asked, her face flooded with worry.

"About an hour," Andrew replied, anxiously tapping his hands on his knees.

Alecia took a seat next to me. "Annie is tough. She'll be fine."

I nodded. "She is. She's the toughest."

I was startled by my phone vibrating in my purse. I pulled it out. "It's your son," I informed Alecia. "Should I answer, or do you want to answer?" I asked her.

"I've had decades of answering, so you can give it a shot tonight."

I chuckled. "Hey, jerk," I greeted. What I wanted to call him was much more vulgar than jerk, but Alecia was too nice of a person for me to openly degrade her son to that extreme. At least in front of her.

"Hi," he whispered. "I'm boarding in a half hour. I have a 5:00 am flight out of Philly. Do you have any updates?" He sounded broken — like he had been crying for hours. I hope he had been, the motherfucker.

"No updates. Sorry," I said softly. And I was sorry, even if he was an asshole. I was sure he was experiencing a lot of pain. He was flawed, sure, but he was human.

"I'm going to connect to wi-fi in flight. Please let me know whatever you hear."

"I will," I agreed.

"And Hannah?"

"Yeah, Christian?"

"Please tell her I love her. I know she won't want to hear it, but please . . ."