desertion

127

LYDIA

The hospital waiting room was quieter than it should've been. Hospitals were supposed to be filled with the sound of movement, voices, beeping machines, and the occasional interruption over the intercom. But here, in this small, gray room with uncomfortable chairs and flickering fluorescent lights, silence loomed over us like a heavy fog.

I sat with my hands clasped tightly in my lap, my fingers tangled together so hard they ached. Around me, the rest of them-Dad, Bobby, Maddie, Chimney, Hen, and even Ravi-sat in their own little worlds, lost in thought. No one spoke. No one even looked at each other. We were all too busy wrestling with the same crushing fear: what if Buck didn't make it?

I glanced at Dad. He was hunched forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held some kind of answer to all this. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but I knew him well enough to see the worry underneath.

Maddie sat next to him, her hands trembling slightly as she twisted her ring around her finger. Her eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying. I didn't blame her. If I let myself cry again, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop.

Ravi was sitting across from me, his shoulders stiff, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair like they were the only thing keeping him grounded. He looked like he was trying to hold it together, but I saw the cracks.

Everyone looked so broken, so weighed down by the not-knowing. And honestly, I felt the same way.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling tiles. They were white with little gray specks, arranged in neat, perfect rows. I focused on counting them-anything to distract myself from the horrible thoughts swirling in my head.

What if Buck doesn't wake up? What if he does, but he's not the same? What if...

I shut my eyes, willing the thoughts away.

Eventually, the silence got to me. I needed to move, to do something, anything.

"I'm gonna grab something from the cafeteria," I said quietly, standing up.

No one responded, but Dad glanced up at me, his brows furrowed. He didn't say anything, though. Maybe he knew better than to push me right now.

********

The cafeteria was mostly empty, save for a few nurses and hospital staff. The smell of overcooked vegetables and stale coffee hung in the air. I wandered over to the refrigerated section, staring blankly at the rows of prepackaged sandwiches and salads.

I wasn't hungry. The thought of eating made my stomach twist, but I hadn't eaten in over a day. My body was screaming for something-anything-to keep it going.

I grabbed a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water, then paid at the register. The cashier gave me a tired smile, and I forced one back.

When I got back to the waiting room, nothing had changed. Everyone was still in their same positions, still wearing the same worried expressions. I sat back down, placing the sandwich on my lap.

I unwrapped it slowly, my hands shaking. The bread was dry, the turkey bland, but I forced myself to take a bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

Each bite felt like a monumental effort, but I finished half the sandwich before giving up. I put the rest back in the wrapper and set it aside.

********

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second dragging out like an eternity. I glanced at my phone. It had been 27 hours since I got the call from Dad. Eight of those hours were spent at work, pretending like I was okay when I was anything but. The rest? Here. In this suffocating waiting room, caught in a never-ending loop of waiting and worrying.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them tightly. My head rested against the back of the chair, and I stared at the ceiling again.

This wasn't the first time I'd been in a hospital waiting room, but it was the first time it felt like this. Like the air was too thick to breathe, like every minute was a lifetime, like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn't come back from.

I glanced around the room again. Everyone looked so tired, so defeated. I wanted to say something, to break the silence, but what could I say?

It's going to be okay? That felt like a lie.
We'll get through this? Maybe, but at what cost?

Instead, I stayed quiet, letting the silence wrap around me like a heavy blanket.

Hours passed, though it felt like time had stopped. Nurses came and went, their footsteps echoing down the hall. Every time someone walked by, we all tensed, hoping they'd have news. But no one stopped. No one told us anything.

I closed my eyes, trying to block everything out. The harsh lights, the oppressive silence, the gnawing fear in my chest. But even with my eyes closed, I couldn't escape it.

Buck was my family. He always had been. He was the one who'd taught me how to drive, who'd helped Chris with math homework when he couldn't figure it out. He was the one who made stupid jokes just to make me laugh, who always believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself.

And now he was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I blinked them away. I couldn't cry. Not here. Not now.

I pulled out my phone again, scrolling aimlessly. College tuition, lightning strike side effects, random articles that caught my attention for half a second before I moved on. Anything to keep my mind busy.

But no matter what I did, the fear was always there, lurking in the back of my mind.

The waiting game continued, and all I could do was sit here and play.