Dirty Secrets

Part 47

When the elevator door opened, Lyla stepped out, noticing a sign indicating that the Intensive Care Unit was located at the end of the hallway. Between her and the ICU's imposing metal doors, stood a tall woman with a blotchy face who held a clipboard while in quiet consultation with a nurse.

With compassion, the nurse said, "Unless you've changed your mind, we need the signed consent form before we can harvest."

The tall woman's shoulders shook and she lowered her head. The nurse placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Noticing Lyla standing in the hallway watching she asked, "May I help you?"

Lyla adopted her most confident posture, shoulders back, eyes up, walking with purpose. "What room is Oliver Packer?"

The tall woman turned. 

The nurse scanned Lyla for a security badge and found none. "Immediate family only," she said gesturing toward the elevator.

"Are you Lyla?" asked the tall woman.

She looked into the woman's pink, puffy eyes and replied, "Yeah."

The woman studied her, a slight smile finding its way across her face. "He said you were pretty."

Embarrassed, she directed her eyes to the floor. "Thanks."

"We'll talk when I come back," the nurse said then continued down the hallway.

"I'm Oliver's mom."

Suspecting as much, Lyla returned a soft smile.

"He's talked about you. A lot."

"Is he okay?" Immediately, she realized it was a dumb question.

Ms. Packer shook her head, a film of tears coating her eyes.

"I just heard he was in a bad car accident," Lyla said softly. "That's all I know."

In a halting voice, his mom managed, "It took them twenty minutes to cut him out of his car. They life-flighted him here." She gulped down her emotion. "He hasn't been able to speak, so..." She shielded her eyes and lowered her head.

"Tell him I was here, okay?" Anguish ripped her voice.

She nodded.

Lyla plodded to the elevator choked with grief. She watched Packer's brokenhearted mother trudge through the doors into the ICU.

The elevator announced its arrival with a DING then the door opened. With her eyes on Ms. Packer, Lyla began to enter the elevator when an overwhelming odor of disinfectant turned her head. Clover stood alone in the elevator car chewing her thumbnail, her milky eyes on Lyla.

"I wish my mom would just stay the hell outta here," she growled, her blue lips forming a tight scowl. "Like she's doing me a favor by popping in and just staring at me. Makes me feel like shit." A rivulet of bile dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

With a gasp, Lyla urgently propelled herself backward, out of the elevator. The door closed. She leaned against the opposite hallway wall, her eyes clamped, her chest rising and falling. 

Not real. Breathe. Not real.

Moments later, the door opened. Relieved to discover that Clover had vanished, she watched a heavyset man in a sweater and a white-haired elderly woman exit, both wearing lanyards with ICU Visitors cards. 

"Hold that elevator, please," called a nurse from the hallway.

Grateful for the company of a fellow passenger, Lyla entered the elevator with the nurse and rode it down to the lobby.

........

While walking to the bus stop, Lyla sobbed into a wadded tissue. The hospital visit brought back crushing memories and the searing pain of losing her mom, and she recognized that familiar anguish on the face of Packer's mother. 

She received a text.

Darcy: So?

Lyla: Talk later.

Darcy: Where are U?

Lyla: In session.

Darcy: No UR not. U have UR phone.

No answer.

Darcy: What's going on?

No answer.

Darcy: IM coming to UR house after school. 🤨

                                                                                           ........

At 2:45, she watched from the front door as Darcy parked her car, slipped out, and jogged up onto the porch. The moment she set her green eyes on her best friend, Darcy lunged into the entryway, arms opened wide. She held Lyla tightly, then kissed her cheek as she withdrew.

"So? What's the--" she interrupted herself when she saw the flowers on the kitchen counter. "Wow. Pretty."

"Those are the flowers Richie brought," said Lyla.

Darcy went into the kitchen and stuck her nose in the bouquet. "I didn't realize I had such good taste."

Lyla closed the door then leaned against the doorframe.

"Okay," said Darcy. "I'm not sure what's happening here."

Lyla dabbed her eyes with a mascara-stained sleeve. "Packer got into a bad car accident. Real bad."

Darcy's jaw dropped.

"He's in the ICU. Doesn't look good."

"Oh, girl. I'm so sorry."

"I shoulda kept him away. I knew something like this was gonna happen."

"What?"

"I'm totally toxic. Everything I touch--"

"You gotta stop this. I mean it. People get in car accidents. I'm sorry but it's true. Bad things do not happen to everyone you know."

If you only knew.

"Nothing bad happened to Richie. Or me," Darcy continued. "Except I think I flunked the biochem exam but that's definitely not your fault."

Inconsolable, Lyla rubbed her forehead.

Darcy initiated another strategy. "So... When's the last time you ate something?"

She shrugged.

"Go truck yourself."

Lyla's brow furrowed. "Can we start this conversation over? I wasn't ready."

"Food truck-a-palooza at Moore Park." Darcy grinned. "How do you say no to that?"

She shrugged again.

"You need a bomb-ass taco, girl. Probably two. And me, probably taco then ice cream. No, wait. Taco, pizza, then ice cream."

"Look at me," Lyla grumbled. "I'm not going anywhere. I look like a corn dog that rolled under a grease truck."

"Come on." Darcy started up the stairs. "Let's make you presentable, and make a move."

Lyla deliberated.

"You hear my stomach growling, right? So why you still standing there?"