Because of a Cowboy

A Hospital Waiting Room

All of my siblings, my parents, and Grandpa Winston sat silently in that waiting room. Winter was on the next flight out. It had been over an hour and we hadn't heard a thing.

"She literally lived with me! How did I not stop it?" Wrylie said, breaking the massive wall of silence.

"You can't be her babysitter, dear. She's twenty-seven," my mother said. She took Wrylie's hand in hers. "None of this could have been prevented. We all saw that she was relapsing. We tried to help her. She didn't want the help."

"But we could've watched her!" Wrylie said.

"Wrylie, she's an addict. We can't watch her every second of every day. If she wanted heroin she's going to find a way to get it," Wesley said. "You slept ten feet away from her and she still found a way to sneak out through the skylight of your tiny house."

I couldn't stop myself from pacing. Why didn't they come back out and tell us anything? Even if she wasn't totally stable yet, at least give us something to go off of.

I heard footsteps coming from the front door. Toby ran into my arms.

"I'm here, it's okay," Toby said as I completely broke down.

"Toby, sonny boy, how about you take her for a walk? Get some air. We'll all be here for a while," Grandpa said.

"Yes, sir!" Toby said.

He took me down the hall and out the hospital doors. It was a hot, sticky, humid night. We started walking around to the back of the hospital, so we could stand by the river.

"This isn't the first time this has happened," I said.

"I know. I was there for the other two."

"I just...don't get it. I don't get it, Toby. She was doing so good when she got back from rehab," I said. "It doesn't make any sense. She just started going downhill. Started missing work. Started screwing up events...you know it must've gotten bad when we needed Waldo to help out with the workload."

The river came into view as I remembered flying kites with my siblings across the way. I leaned over the railing. Toby's arm was around my shoulders.

"She was fine the last two times. Maybe this will be like another wake up call. I'm sure you guys have enough money to send her back to rehab, right?" Toby asked.

"I'm sure. We had a lot of big weddings this spring. We made out really well, that's for sure." I wiped my eyes. "I just never thought I'd be here. My little boy could come any day, and instead of resting at home and putting my feet up, I'm here. I'm at the hospital because Whisper overdosed...again."

"Hey, everything will be okay," Toby said.

We were out there for a while, just talking and talking while I cried uncontrollably. I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a few weeks. I wasn't just worried about being a parent. Ever since my baby shower, I was worried about my sister, too.

I cried and cried until Toby's sweatshirt was soaked, then finally backed away. My eyes were puffy and sore from wiping them so much.

"I think I'm ready to go back in now. I'm sure they must have some kind of update," I said.

Toby took my hand in his. "Okay. Let's go."

We walked back around the side of the building. I had to take a breather due to a contraction. I'd been having them on and off. Stella said it was perfectly normal, just my body getting ready for Little Tobys.

"Not too much longer 'till you're evicted, little buddy," I said, rubbing my bump.

Toby brought me back through the entrance and down the hallway to the rest of my family, who were still sitting quietly. Everyone was still there, except for my parents.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" I asked.

"A nurse called them back. She said she wanted only the parents," Wesley said.

"Oh. Well I'm glad we're finally getting an update!" I said.

Toby took a seat next to me, his head on my shoulder and his hand on Little Toby, as usual. I sent a text to Holden so he knew where we all ran off to. Hopefully he remembered to lock the stable up. One of the clydesdales was an escape artist.

One of the surrounding doors opened and my parents emerged. We all looked up at their ashen faces. They were pale, and my mother's eyes were puffy.

"Not good?" I asked. "Is she in a coma again?"

"No," my father said, his voice cracking. "She's gone."