Going Up | ✓

Michigan - (17)

Michigan.

It's early Friday morning when the phone goes.

Groggily, I answer it, still half asleep. 'Hello?' I grumble into the phone, wondering who on earth wants to talk to me at half six in the morning.

'Poppy,' a female voice rushes frantically in my ear. 'It's my mom. She's had a heart attack and is in hospital.'

My gut lurches.

No. Not Granny.

'Mom,' I sit up in bed, fear clutching my heart. 'Mom,' I murmur softly, at a loss for what to say.

'Your father and I are going to Michigan to see her. You and Oliver should come too. They'd both want to see you,' she tells me. 'We've booked ourselves onto a flight to leave in three hours, can you get there on time?'

I push the covers of my bed back and stand up. 'Yeah, we can,' I confirm. 'We'll be there,' I hang up.

I rush into Oliver's room and shake him in his slumber. 'Oliver,' I say frantically, trying desperately to remain calm. 'Oliver, honey, wake up.'

He stirs and looks at me through sleep-filled eyes. He mumbles something incoherently, burying his head in his pillow.

I shake him firmly again, desperately trying to push the panic rising inside of me down. 'Oliver, wake up,' I repeat. 'Oliver.'

This time, he drags his eyes open and looks at me slightly more clearly. 'Mommy?'

'Get up, come on. We've got to go,' I say urgently, standing up. I quickly open his drawers and bundle a few sets of clothes into a holdall for him. 'Get dressed.'

Oliver pushes the bed covers back, quick to pick up on my panic. 'What's wrong, Mommy? What's happening?' he can't help the fear that leaks into his voice.

'Your great granny isn't very well,' I explain briefly. 'We're going to see her.'

Despite the situation, a smile creeps onto his face. 'We're going to see great granny and grandad?' he grins.

I smile lightly, pushing the hair away from my forehead. 'Yes, we are. We need to be quick, though, or we're going to miss our flight.'

He gets out of bed. 'Okay, Mommy,' he says seriously.

I smile, leaning down to kiss him lightly on the forehead. 'Good man. You get dressed while I go and get myself sorted out, okay?'

I rush into my room, pulling on a pair of leggings, a black t-shirt and a baggy hoodie. I pack myself a couple of outfits into a holdall, before leaving my room and heading into the kitchen.

I'm halfway through making us both sandwiches when Oliver wanders through, fully dressed. 'Mommy, I'm ready to go,' he tells me proudly.

'Grab your bag then,' I say, still concentrating on the sandwiches.

He returns a few moments later with the bag and I quickly wrap up the sandwiches, shoving them in my own holdall.

'Let's go then,' I murmur tensely picking up both of our bags, my keys and my phone.

We hurry down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator and rush towards the car. We get in and I start the engine, backing out of the car park and racing towards the airport as fast as possible.

The drive is tense, with neither of us saying anything. Oliver doesn't really understand what is going on, but he seems to sense that I don't really want to talk about anything. He stares out of the window, looking a little lost.