Kevin awoke abruptly to an unusual and startling buzz, his phone vibrating against a nickel on the bedside table. He clicked the power button to ignore the call and ease the abrasive noise. Seconds later, a single buzz again rattled the loose change, but it went unnoticed, the bedside already deserted. A girl on the opposite bedside stirred in annoyance. In his startled awakening, Kevin had flung the sheets off of himself exposing her upper back and shoulders as she laid on her side grimacing in annoyance at the cold air and loud shower. She bundled herself into a cocoon of bedding, a remedy that never seems to do its job.
A few minutes later the shower shut off with the squeak of a knob that echoed through the plumbing. Kevin walked out with the wooden floor squeaking and slapping against his bare feet. It never ends. Already wearing his clothes from the night before, he sat back down on the bed and stuffed his feet into the black sneakers that lay haphazardly on the floor. One more rattling buzz.
“Can you turn that off?” she said in a way that made clear that whatever friendship they had did not apply to 6 a.m.
“I have to take off,” he said grabbing his phone and starting towards the door. He was too preoccupied to care; she was disinterested.
When Kevin reached street level, he walked out of the large glass double doors and turned left. He could see his car a block and a half away parallel parked in a spot that would only seem suitable at midnight on a Friday. He walked quickly toward it in that awkward jog/walk that one does when the doors first open to a concert with general admission seating. His mind was in a tunnel, inattentive to anything around him. With the click of a button, the doors unlocked from thirty feet away and he approached the car. He flung the door open, pulled his feet inside, and firmly shut it in almost one fluid motion. He exhaled, turned the key, and pulled into the road already squinting at the upcoming street sign.
Once on the freeway, he looked down at his phone on the passenger’s seat, picked it up, and swiped it open. There were two messages from “Corinne <3 <3”. The first read, “Good morning hun” with a smiley face that knotted his stomach. The second message read, “The nurse said they’re taking me in at 7:15”. 7:15? What happened to 8? “Be there ASAP”, he replied ambiguously, his heart beating through his temples. He drove on in silence towards Pasadena, his mind engrossed in premeditating arguments, excuses, explanations. Never apologies.
It was almost seven by the time he pulled up outside the quaint but pretentiously “historic” bungalow. The neighborhood was quiet and for the most part still in slumber. He could hear children’s voices and dishes as he approached the house and rang the doorbell. A young 30-something woman opened the door with blonde hair pulled back and a closed, obligatory smile.
“How’s she doing?” she asked as she stood back leaned against the door with arms folded.
“She’s good. Surgery’s in a few hours.” he lied, looking past her into the house towards the sound of a zipper, not fully present. “Dylan,” he called “come on, car’s running.” It wasn’t. Kevin’s eyes glanced right to meet hers as he gave a quick, pursed lip smile, which she returned. 7:05.
Kevin took side streets—it didn’t matter at this point, they couldn’t make it in time. Huntington Hospital was at least a fifteen-minute drive from the Hydes’ house and parking was always a nightmare. It would be a rushed, strenuous effort that his marriage, at this point, no longer compelled him to make. His mind was at ease. He knew the presence of their son, along with the residual medicinal effects, would temporarily alleviate or at least distract from any tension between them. Maybe she would forget altogether.
It would be almost noon before a tap on the knee would awake a slumped down Kevin to see Dr. Park looking down at him.
“Mister Moore?” He said with a calm, American accent—something that Kevin had always found peculiar yet comforting. “Do you mind coming back so we can have a word?” His voice gave nothing away.
Kevin rubbed his son’s head that was resting on his elbow and straightened up.
“Hey buddy, I’ll be right back, I’m just going to talk to the doctor for a few minutes. Are you going to be okay out here?” The boy nodded, still blinking, as his head fell back towards the armrest. “Okay, just stay right here.”
Kevin rose out of his seat as Dr. Park looked across to the older woman sat behind the window.
“Brenda” he said pointing down at Dylan’s nappy hair. She looked up, smiled, and gave a nod.
Dr. Park motioned for Kevin to walk ahead and followed closely behind as they headed towards the back of the room. Each footstep was a hollow, distant echo. The sterile white lights dried his eyes, but he didn’t blink. His mind was numb. And just as the dark brown doors swung closed behind them, there was a short buzz in his pocket. It was her.
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