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The women wouldn’t allow Jennifer to go to the hospital by herself.
Jennifer sat in Mila’s BMW's front seat—something Peter had left behind and blinked into the strange darkness in front of the car. Outside, snow billowed wildly and poured itself across the road. It was the kind of night when roads were apt to grow slick.
Mila spoke as she drove slowly toward the hospital. Amelia and Olivia, both in the backseat, continued the conversation. Jennifer had no idea what any of them said. She felt like she was drowning. Jennifer had a lump in her throat that threatened to cut off all oxygen and she felt she was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
Mila pulled up to the drop-off point at the hospital. Olivia stepped out of the car and opened the passenger seat. She called to Jennifer and splayed out her palm. “Come on!” she said. “I’ll help you.”
Jennifer walked on legs that felt like they would buckle at any moment. She, Olivia, and Amelia waded through the glossy white hallways. All the while, Jennifer had flashing images of Michelle’s death, of Michelle’s funeral. She remembered it as though it had just happened three days before.
They hadn’t been able to have an open casket.
Which meant that the last time Jennifer had ever seen Michelle’s face—her twin’s face—had been out on that damn boat.
Her mother had stood at the casket, unable to look at Jennifer. Her hands had stretched over the wood as she’d shaken with both rage and sadness. Jennifer hadn’t been able to think of anything that was appropriate to say. She knew that it pained her mother to look at her face. She knew she was the ultimate reminder of the daughter she’d lost.
Camilla burst out from the nurse’s station. Her cheeks were blotchy with tears, but her face was stern as she approached them and threw her arms around Jennifer. She was the only blonde of the group, a true bleach-blonde, and her green eyes were just as electric as Jennifer’s, so much so that sometimes, people who didn’t know them asked if they were sisters. “Kind of,” was always their answer.
“Shhh,” Camilla breathed. “It’s okay.”
Jennifer shook against her for a long moment. Finally, she forced herself upright and said, “Where is she?” In truth, what she wanted to ask was: Is she still alive? Is she still on this planet? But she didn’t want to give away her wildest fears. Not yet.
“They told me they just stabilized her,” Camilla said.
Tears rolled down Jennifer’s cheeks. “She’s okay. She’s—”
Camilla nodded. “Your father is right this way. Do you feel up to seeing him?”
Jennifer thought back to how she’d left her mother and father: her father wasted upstairs, while her mother sat downstairs staring into her wine glass.
“Do you know how it happened?” Jennifer whispered.
Camilla’s eyes looked cloudy. “I’ve only heard a bit about what your father said.”
Jennifer’s nostrils flared. “He was too drunk to know what to do. Wasn’t he?”
Camilla pursed her lips. The other women shifted their weight and exchanged glances. Suddenly, a nurse bolted down the hallway, her scrubs swishing together at her thighs.
“I don’t think you should be too hard on him, Jen,” Camilla breathed. “He hardly knows what happened. And at least, he got her here. He found a way to make the call.”
Jennifer’s heart raced with anger as Camilla wrapped an arm around Jennifer’s shoulders and turned back to the rest of them. “Only immediate family in the room right now.”
“That bastard,” Jennifer whispered into Camilla’s ear. She didn’t expect a response.
“We’ll wait in the hallway for you, Jen,” Mila said. “We can take you wherever you want to go, whenever you like.”
Jennifer turned back. Her eyes were so bleary that her best friends seemed like strange paintings. “Can you call Joel and Nick? I need them to know what happened.”
“Of course,” Olivia affirmed. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You want them to come up here?” Amelia asked.
“Yes,” Jennifer breathed. “I think that would be best.”
Camilla opened the door of her mother’s hospital room to reveal Ariane Conrad, pale, her eyes closed, with various clear wires coming out of her arms and hands. Beside her sat John Conrad, Jennifer’s drunken father. Enormous shadows pooled beneath his eyes. He hardly noticed Jennifer as she entered.
Jennifer could have slapped him silly.
“Thank you, Cam,” Jennifer whispered to her dear friend.
“I think the doctor will be in shortly to give you more information,” Camilla said. “I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything at all.”
The moment the door clicked closed, Jennifer collapsed in the chair opposite her father and gripped her mother’s other hand. She inhaled, exhaled, trying to focus on staying upright. She had to be strong, the way she’d been in the wake of Michelle’s death and her new pregnancy. She had to be as “solid as a rock.” That was how Joel had described her at the time.
“Michelle, I...” her father began.
Jennifer’s eyes snapped up toward him. Rage shook her. “Are you really too drunk to even know my name?”
All the color drained from her father’s cheeks. He dropped his chin to his chest and let out a long, horrible cry. Jennifer wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to throw something at his head. But instead, she just took in the image of him: the once-great man, John Conrad, who now could hardly keep himself sober enough to call for an ambulance when his wife collapsed.
“Where did it happen?” Jennifer demanded. She decided to let him off the hook for the “Michelle” thing. Her thoughts were heavy with Michelle, too.
Her father sniffled. “She’d just come upstairs to get ready for bed. She collapsed at the end of the bed. At first, I thought she’d just drank too much wine.”
Jennifer wanted to point out the hypocrisy here but held her tongue.
“But she didn’t hear me when I called her name,” her father continued. “She didn’t hear me.”
“And you called the ambulance right away?” Jennifer demanded.
His eyes were hazy with a lack of memory. Finally, he said, “I called them as soon as I could, Jen. I really did.”
They held the silence for a long time. Jennifer was grateful that her mother’s skin was so warm, so smooth. It was clear that she’d already put on her nighttime hand cream. Again, Jennifer’s eyes pooled with tears. Over the years, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider the fact that one day, she would lose her parents, just the way she’d lost Michelle. She had no idea how she would handle it.
The doctor appeared minutes later to explain the situation. He was resigned and somber as he spoke. Jennifer wondered how many other people he’d had to deliver bad news to that evening.
“We’re still monitoring her,” he explained. “It was a hemorrhagic stroke, but if all goes well, we should be able to send her home with you in a week or so. Our team will be monitoring her in the meantime and more assessments will be done.”
“That’s so good to hear,” Jennifer breathed.
“When she does return home, however, things will be different,” he continued. “Depending on how things go, she will require round-the-clock care. She won’t be able to do most of the things she used to do.”
Jennifer’s throat tightened with fear. All her previous images of her mother, stirring and slicing and baking Christmas cookies, flew to her mind. All that laughter, all that love they’d shared, even in the midst of the heaviness of Michelle’s death.
“But we won’t know how bad it is for a few more days,” the doctor continued.
Jennifer thanked the doctor as he exited. She turned her eyes back toward her father as rage swam through her. Was it possible that had her father called the ambulance in time, her mother might have been able to recover better? Was his delayed reaction going to impede her recovery?
Would it make her feel any better placing blame on him? Of course, it wouldn’t, she thought to herself. She was just so angry with the situation at hand and what had been happening between her parents. It was hard to turn a blind eye to it.
“I can hardly look at you,” Jennifer hissed. She leaped up from her seat and walked back out to the hallway. Once the door closed, she burst into tears, the kind that made her stomach ache.
“Hey. Jen. Hey—”
The voice was so familiar. It was like a lighthouse in the middle of a dark ocean.
Jennifer opened her eyes to find him: the first and only true love of her life, her ex-husband, Joel. She fell into his outstretched arms as another sob barreled through her.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” Joel’s hand rubbed at her upper back. The hug wasn’t romantic in any sense, but it was precisely what she needed.
Finally, Jennifer fell back. She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth collapsed almost instantly. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said. With a jolt, she remembered that he’d had plans that evening. Maybe she’d even interrupted a date.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “You know I always come when Jennifer Conrad calls. I always have.”
Nick had burst up from the far end of the hallway. He looked frantic and wide-eyed, and his black hair shot out behind him as he raced toward them. When he reached Jen, he threw his arms around her and gasped for air. “Oh my God, Mom. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I wasn’t there.”
Jennifer pulled out of the hug and smile at her son and ex-husband. She felt an outpouring of overwhelming love.
“I wasn’t there either,” Jennifer admitted. “Dinner was canceled. I was out with the girls. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Okay, Nick?”
Nick nodded, still with a wrinkle between his brows. Jennifer felt much more tired than she’d been in a long time. Although she’d been around so much death in her life, Nick hadn’t experienced it so much. She hated the idea that he might lose his grandmother.
The three of them walked back toward the waiting room, where they found Olivia, Mila, and Amelia seated with their heads together, speaking intensely.
“I think she’s going to be okay,” Jennifer said to both Joel and Nick. “But it’s probably going to be a hard road ahead. It won’t be the kind of Christmas we’re used to.” She then flashed her eyes toward Joel. She wanted to add, not like Christmas had been the same since our separation and divorce. But she couldn’t handle saying it. It was too much.
They waited together for another thirty minutes. Their conversation floated from one topic to another, to the idea of hiring a nurse for round-the-clock care, to what would be done with the bakery, to whether or not Jennifer should stay the night at her parents’ place.
“I don’t like the idea of leaving him there in that house alone,” Jennifer said softly. “No matter how angry I am.”
Joel rubbed her back again. She wanted to tell him that her father had done the unthinkable—called her Michelle, of all things. But saying the words aloud felt too heavy.
“I guess I’d better get the old man and bring him home,” Jennifer breathed. “Do you mind driving us?”
“Not at all,” Joel said.
The others nodded, as though it was up to them to “allow” Joel to drive them. Joel chuckled sadly. “Your posse says it’s all right.”
“We’re just here to watch out for our girl,” Amelia said. She rose, stretched her arms over her head with a yawn, and gave Joel a sleepy smile. “Good to see you again, Joel. It’s been a minute.”
“Good to see you girls, too,” Joel said. His eyes shimmered with sadness. “It’s been too long.”