Preath: Head In The Game [Complete]

13: An Unexpected Family Reunion

I love you. The memory of Christen's voice circulated in my brain as I woke up, jaw ajar, turned on my side, drooling into the deep blue airplane seat while Chris' eyes burned into my soul.

"Why do I always wake up to you staring at me?" I murmured sleepily.

"It's time to go," she said.

We filed out of the plane. A tall woman's face stood out to me in the crowd, partly because she towered over everyone else and partly because she was facing our way. From this distance, she looked just like Christen.

"There's my sister," Christen said, taking the sunglasses that were resting on her head and putting them on.

When we reached her, Christen's sister and her hugged for a moment. A rushing passerby knocked into my crutches.

"This is Tyler," Christen said. "Tyler, this is Tobin."

As I said hi, Tyler crashed into me for a hug too. This was one huggy family.

"Oh shoot, the crutches!" Tyler said. "Sorry."

"How's Mom?" Christen asked.

"Same as she was. Let's get in the car."

The car smelled like those cherry-scented, tree-shaped rear-view mirror decorations, but I didn't see one dangling from the mirror. I went to the back, placing my feet on either side of a metal trash can on a floor that was spotless other than for some cashew crumblings. Christen and Tyler spoke quietly in the front. No music, only serious discussion.

"Will she be allowed in the room?" Christen whispered.

"I'm sure," Tyler answered. "As long as we're all together, they don't enforce family-only rules."

"Do you know what caused this?"

"The doctor was talking about some kind of blockage."

"What's Dad been saying?" Christen asked.

"In shock. He and Channing are confident she'll wake up at any moment."

"Do you think she could?"

In the mirror, Tyler's eyes focused only on the road. "...I don't know."

For five seconds, it was silent. Then Christen said, "There's a strong smell in here," and rolled the window down. The gust was still a bit chillier than it should've been for this time of year. It entered every opening of my baggy sweater and sent ruffles through Chris' blouse, but she faced the breeze head-on.

"Goddamned ambulance," Tyler said as we entered the hospital parking lot. "I should've came in the other way."

"Think of it as a good thing," Christen said. "It means you haven't been here much."

Christen and I went ahead while Tyler paid for a parking ticket. I still wasn't entirely used to the crutches, so she had to walk slow for me to catch up.

"You'd think three legs would be faster, right?" I said.

"The time we get there won't make a difference."

Tyler joined us again. In the hospital, a child with her own crutches made eye contact with me, and we exchanged a sympathetic smile. The bright-lit hallways smelled the same as the ones I'd travelled through that morning. I think hospitals use special cleaners that are different from what we buy for our homes. I don't know anyone who would want that smell in their house, but it seemed that all hospitals shared it.

One left turn later, we were in the ICU. A small white card by the door read, "Stacy Press - Room 14, Dr. Shea".

Christen's mother was lying in the bed, with a man at her side who had one hand over hers and the other clutching the velcro strip of a baseball cap. Christen's father, I assumed. I almost didn't notice Channing, standing idly, rubbing the separation curtain together with her fingers and creating creases in the fabric. Being the only one there without any direct connection to Stacy, I considered taking a step back, feeling as though I didn't belong.