Older Brothers

TYLER A Visit

For the second time that day, I woke up to Graham tugging on my hair.
I rubbed my eyes and smacked his hand away. "Would you stop that?"
"It's time to get up. We've got a big day today." He reached into the back and tossed me my bag. "Get changed. Im sure you want to look your best for Lexa."
"What time is it?"
"Almost seven. I figured I'd wake you up before the others." He gestured to the back seat, where Mike and Jackson were still sleeping.
"Thanks." Graham knew me. He knew I would want to be up. He knew how anxious I was.
I climbed into the back row of seats and changed my shirt. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror. My hair was a mess. I looked like I'd spent the last ten hours in a car. At least Lexa would understand.
Fifteen minutes later, four rumpled teenage boys walked through the doors of St. Peter's Children's Hospital.
Some unspoken agreement had made Graham our speaker. He led our little group to the receptionist's desk.
"Good morning," Graham said cheerfully.
"What can I help you boys with this morning?" the receptionist asked, without looking up from her computer screen.
"Well," Graham said. "We- we're here to-," he looked to us for support.
"We're here to visit someone," I interrupted. "Can you tell us what room-"
"Visiting hours are eight to eight," she replied, still not looking up.
"Okay," Graham said. "It's almost 7:30, right? So can you tell us what room Alexa Dileo is in?"
"It's 7:19," the receptionist said shortly. She typed something into the computer and said, "She's in room 327." She looked up at us for the first time. Her face was full of pity. "That's in the cancer ward."
"Yes," Graham said. "We know. Thank you."
"You can't go up to visit her until eight," the receptionist called after us.
We found seats in the waiting area. "Do you think they have coffee here?" Mike asked.
Graham propped his feet up on the table. "Probably."
Mike stood up. "I'm gonna go look for food."
For the past few days I had been thinking. "Graham... Lexa doesn't know we're coming.."
"Yeah." He looked confused. "Didn't you want it that way?"
"Yes, but- she thinks we don't even care. I've hardly talked to her since Tuesday, when I found out. She probably thinks we're not even the slightest bit concerned."
"She knows you, Tyler," Jackson pointed out. "I'm sure she knows you're worried out of your mind."
"Worrying doesn't matter if you don't do anything about it." I buried my face in my hands.
"But we are doing something about it."
"Lexa doesn't know that!"
"She'll know in-" Graham checked his watch. "fourteen minutes."
"I'll bet her first night of chemo was awful," I whispered. "Sitting there thinking her friends don't care."
"She wouldn't have expected us to up and drive four hours to be with her. She'll be surprised."
"But she would've at least expected me to text her!"
Jackson and Graham were both staring at me now; I could tell they had no idea what to say to me.
I had done something huge. I had arranged a last minute road trip and come all the way from Pennsylvania to see her; yet when she needed me most, I had let her down.
"You texted her last night," Graham said. "You told me that. She knows you're at least thinking about her. And when we see her today, she'll understand why you've been so busy."
"She'll understand," Jackson added. "She always does."
Mike came back in carrying a cardboard tray with four cups on it and a few pastry things wrapped in a napkin.
"They had coffee and scones," he said. "And I got hot chocolate for Tyler, because he's a pansy."
"Choosing not to drink coffee does not make me a 'pansy'."
We sat in the waiting area and  enjoyed our breakfast. When we were finished, I turned to Graham. "Time?"
"7:56."
I glanced at the receptionist. "We could probably go up now. Where are the elevators?"
Mike pointed silently to the elevator bank behind the receptionist's desk.
"Do we even know what floor she's on?" Jackson asked.
"No," I said. "Room 327. We could just... See what floor that's on?"
"Whatever, man," Graham said, strolling towards the elevators.
We checked the second floor; it had waiting rooms with colorful chairs in them, and toys littered on the floor. All the rooms were numbered in the 100s.
The third floor was much quieter; but there were no rooms numbered higher than 300.
When the elevator reached the fourth floor, we rushed down the hall, reading the little plastic labels next to the doors. I could feel excitement building in my chest.
"321," Jackson called from down the hall. "We're close."
All the even numbers were on one side of the hall, the odds on the other. Three doors down from where Jackson was standing, the little label read "ROOM 327". The door was open.
Jackson was by my side in an instant; Mike and Graham weren't far behind. I turned to look at them. "Ready?" I asked them.
"This is your show, man," Graham said.
I walked through the door.
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