The Thing About Flip Flops

Chapter Thirty Three: Henry's Accident

The worst, most terrifying day of my life begins with me waking up to sunlight streaming through my window, illuminating half of my room golden. It's such a peaceful morning that if someone had told me then what would happen only hours later, I would think they were delusional.

But no one tells me, so I get up whistling under my breath and look at my alarm clock, which reads 8:40. It's early, but I feel rested enough.

Out of the window, the pavement is wet as if its has been raining all night, but with the sun out now, there are little rainbows that appear depending on the angle I look out.

I don't bother getting dressed because it's a Saturday morning so I plod downstairs in slippers and sweatpants, still wearing Jack's zip-up hoodie that he left at my house.

It's losing its smell though...I'll have to exchange it for a new one sometime soon.

I consider making pancakes but it seems like too much work so I just get some Nutella from the cupboard and spread it on a piece of toast.

I'm at the kitchen table, halfway through my breakfast and scrolling through social media when it happens.

My dad rushes into the kitchen, looking frantic and tired as if he's just been dragged out of bed. There's something about the look on his face that makes me drop my toast and jolt to my feet.

"Dad? Dad, oh my god, what is it?" I gasp frantically, staring imploringly into his pale, terrified face.

Jeremy isn't too far behind him, also looking disheveled and flustered.

My dad opens his mouth to speak, but can't seem to get any words out and so Jeremy fills in.

He says something about an accident...and my twin brother... and all of a sudden we're rushing to the emergency room, speeding along the rainy, paved streets and all I can think is, What is going on? What is going on? What is going on??

We pull up to the hospital, a tall white building that looks like a prison and somehow make it to the front desk. I tune out what people are saying as my dad and Jeremy try to explain to the front desk person what's happening.

I hear the words faintly, "Sir you'll have to sit down, we have some forms for you to fill out, what is the patient's name?"

And my dad says in a desperate voice, "Henry Parker, I need you to tell me if he's-"

As if in a blur, I find myself rocking back and forth on a chair in the bleak hospital waiting room not twenty minutes later, staring into the ground as my dad and Jeremy frantically sign papers and forms and whatnot.

Nobody has even told me anything, and from the way my dad's signing documents in a frustrating and angry way, I can tell they haven't told him either.

When he's done, he sinks into the seat next to me, squeezing my hand as if he can't let go. Vaguely, I notice Jeremy on his other side, whispering words of comfort but it's like I can't hear anything he's saying.

Finally after what feels like forever a tall man in a white hospital uniform comes and stands in front of my seat, looking pityingly down at me, my dad, and Jeremy.

"Mr. Parker?" He looks at my dad for confirmation, who nods and rubs his face in exhaustion.

"My son, is he-" Dad chokes out.

"He's in a critical state. There was a car accident and he's not responding to anything we're trying. It happened in the early hours of the morning and we had no way of identifying him except by his car, because he didn't appear to be carrying a phone or a wallet. We were eventually able to identify him using biometric technology, but I apologize for the late notice."

"I don't care how you identified him! What the hell happened to my son?" My dad yells.

The doctor winces, warning us, "It doesn't look good. It was an extremely serious accident. He appears to have severely damaged his spinal cord, and he has a broken wrist. At the moment, he's unconscious but when he wakes up, there's a high probability of paralysis, most likely paraplegia, which refers to the legs. He will most likely be under for a few more hours, judging by the effects of the drugs we've put him on, but we'll know for sure when he wakes up."

No.

No, no no.

Please, please no.

Oh, Henry.

I hear a desperate, sobbing noise that sounds like it's been ripped out of someone's throat, and the I realize that it was made by me.

I feel arms wrapping around my, holding me close and I lean into my dad, desperately needing someone to hold onto or else I might sink into oblivion.

I realize with a start that my face is damp with scalding hot tears, and I let the sobs wrack my body and just bury my face in my dad's comforting shoulder.

***

I am woken up a while later by an announcement on the intercom, an automated British voice that says something unintelligible in a chirpy voice. My back hurts from falling asleep upright in a chair, and part of my arm has pins and needles from me leaning on it.

And then with this realization it all comes rushing back to me in a gigantic, nauseating wave of terror. How the hell am I sitting here, thinking about my slight backache from a chair when my brother...when he's...

The vomit builds up in my throat and I'm able to make it to a nearby trashcan before violently hurling my guts up.

As I pull back I notice other people in the waiting room looking at me in disgust, but I don't have it in me to give a shit. I spot my dad lying sideways across four seats, trying to get some sleep, but he's just tossing and turning and he seems unable to even close his eyes.

Jeremy gives me a weary smile from beside him, and I find it somewhere in myself to give him a grateful nod, but I can't bring myself to smile.

I look up at the big clock, which tells me it's around ten-thirty in the morning. More and more people are trickling into the hospital now, since I guess people have appointments and stuff this morning. I'm pacing in front of my dad's seat, overthinking about Henry, when my phone rings. I hadn't even realized I brought it with me in our hurried rush to the hospital.

Numbly, as a reflex, I accept the call without even bothering to check who's calling.

"Hullo?" I answer dully.

"A? Are you okay? You don't sound too good..." says the worried voice on the other end of the phone and for the first time since the accident, I actually feel coherent enough to listen to someone's voice. I guess I just don't want to miss whatever he has to say.

"I'm-" my voice breaks off in a sob as I begin to say, I'm fine. But I'm not fine. I'm the furthest thing from fine.

Jack's voice steadies me from the other end of the line, but he sounds nervous and his words are jumbled as he says them. "What's wrong? Your voice... did something happen? Where are you?" He sounds frantic and I clutch the phone to my ear, wishing for him to be here to actually talk to and not just through the phone.

I quickly walk to the corner of the waiting room where no one will hear or disturb me as I start crying again.

I guess Jack hears me because he says in a strained, pain-filled voice, "Hello?! Audrey, damn it, I need to know if you're alright!"

I manage to choke out, "It's Henry, he's- I'm- I'm in the hospital and he..." But I can't finish my sentence because of the tears blurring my eyes.

I hear a loud exhalation on his side, and he fills my silence with the words, "Oh god. What hospital? Where are you?!"

I tell him the name of the hospital, surprised that I even bothered to look at the name of the hospital in my hurry to get inside. I stay on the line with him in silence, listening to him as he revs up his car engine and start driving. We stay connected through the phone until he hangs up on me about ten minutes later, and seconds later I find out why.