Chapter Forty-one
Patricia exited the twin’s room with bloodshot eyes. She needed to soak her feet. Anna and Alyssa would live to see another day, but their parents had changed their minds about the surgery and Patricia did not agree with their decision.
They would take the girls home and love them. To them, Anna and Alyssa were miracles.
“I’ll treasure them until God sees best to . . .” Mrs. Velasquez had been teary-eyed, but she was resolved. “Once they’re stable, we’re taking them to Disney World or something. It’s time for them to have some good memories instead of staring at hospital walls.”
Patricia understood their thinking. She reminded herself repeatedly that Anna wasn’t her daughter Anna. She needed to respect the parents’ wishes.
“One good thing is that the seizures should stop,” Patricia said. “I’ve removed the troubling aneurysms successfully and adjusted their meds. Anna and Alyssa will be okay.” She didn’t know for how long, but they did need quality of life.
“We want to be together,” Anna said, hugging her twin.
“We’re happy,” Alyssa added.
“It’s time we start listening to the girls,” Mr. Velasquez said. “God made them perfect the way they are. We’re the ones who’re trying to fix them.”
Patricia bit her lip. She felt as if she could “fix” them, but she couldn’t interfere with their parents’ choice. The girls would be discharged in a matter of days. She removed her surgical cap and headed to her office.
Tim was waiting for her inside. She clicked the door shut. He held out his arms, and Patricia accepted his embrace. When he pressed his lips to hers, Patricia snapped. She ripped at his shirt and returned his caresses with a vengeance. She moaned under his expert caresses. Yes, she would revel in this. As her pleasure increased, the pain inside her heart dulled.
Moments later, satiated, Patricia lay on the floor. She hid a smile as Tim gathered his belongings. Luckily, he had spare shirts in his office.
Patricia redressed and redid her hair. She had the urge for a strong cup of coffee and marched toward the break room. She pictured the day-old coffee and promptly changed her mind. She decided to go to the Dover Coffee and Gifts shop located in the main lobby. A mocha latte sounded like music to her tired ears.
On her way, Patricia bumped into Karlie zooming inside the building. Jamaal followed closely behind, out of breath.
“Karlie, is everything all right?” Patricia asked.
Karlie’s eyes popped wide open. “Brian is here. He was hit by a truck. Where’s the emergency room?”
Patricia flailed backward and her insides twisted. “Wh. . . What’s happened to Brian?” In horror, she realized that her son had been in danger while she and Tim were. . . She swallowed the rest of that thought.
“The truck was heading toward me, and Brian, he . . . he—he pushed me out of the way,” Jamaal said, convulsing into tears. “I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for him.”
“Oh my goodness. My son! Brian!” Patricia raced toward the emergency room with Jamaal and Karlie in tow. What a good thing she had walked that way or it could have been hours before she found out about her son’s accident. Her cell was in her office. Who could it be but God? Even when she did not deserve it, He had her back. Patricia cupped her mouth, hyperventilating. Oh, Lord, please let Brian be okay.
Ryan was already there. She rushed to her husband’s side. He enfolded her in a tight hug.
Patricia stepped back. “Did you see him? Have they told you anything?”
Ryan shook his head. “They told me to wait here.”
“I’ll be back,” she said to all three of them.
Patricia swiped her ID card to enter the patient area. She clutched her pounding heart and willed her feet not to give way. Once she approached the nurses’ station, she asked, “Where is my son, Brian?”
“Let me check for you.” The nurse tapped keys to pull up the information screen while Patricia tapped her feet with impatience.
Seconds agonizingly crawled by until the nurse said, “He’s in OR three.”
Patricia rushed around the counter to read the screen. Her heart stopped when she saw Tim’s name. Tim had her son’s life in his hands.
“Tell my husband and the others Brian’s upstairs,” Patricia said, and she ran toward the elevator.
Patricia scrubbed in to see her son with her own two eyes. Her hands shook, and she prayed, “Lord, please. Please . . .” She sniffed to keep from crying and entered the room.
Tim saw her and waved her out, but Patricia wasn’t leaving. He went back to work. “Your son’s a fighter, but he’s losing too much blood. He’s going to need a transfusion.”
Patricia clutched her chest. Transfusion. With a numb nod, she left the operating room. By this time, Ryan, Karlie, and Jamaal were in the hallway. Ryan gripped her arm. “Oh Lord. Is he . . . Is he dead?”
“No.” Patricia assured him. “He’s going to need a blood transfusion, though.”
“Where do I go?” Ryan was already rolling up his sleeves.
Her heart plummeted. She looked down at her feet. God, how she prayed this day would never come. Patricia gulped. “You can’t help him.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan shouted. “I’m A-positive. You’re O. So . . .”
“My blood type’s A-positive too,” Karlie said. “I can give blood.”
Tears rolled down Patricia’s face. She tried to hold back her sob. “Brian’s blood type is B.”
Karlie’s face paled.
Ryan’s head snapped back.
“No!” Ryan roared. He shook his head at her. “That’s not possible. Even I know that. He has to be A, O, or OA. You’re a doctor, you know that!”
Patricia stared at Jamaal. “Jamaal, I know you feel you should be here, but this is a time for family. Please go.”
Ryan pierced her with a look cold enough to freeze ice. “That’s rude. Jamaal and Brian are friends. He needs to be here.”
“No, it’s okay.” Jamaal looked at Karlie. “Please call me and let me know he’s all right.”
Karlie nodded.
“Listen,” Patricia said. “I don’t have time to give you a biology lesson. Brian needs blood, and I’m the only one able to give it to him.”
As Patricia ran down the hall, she knew she was running away from the real issue.
Brian was not Ryan’s son.