My Professor's Secret

32|

thirty-two

By noon later that day, none of us had slept. Not Lorelei. Not Chris. Not me. Every time Dad shifted even slightly or one of the machines changed rhythm, all three of us looked up at once like something terrible was about to happen.

It isn't until Dr. Monroe returns with confirmation that the swelling in Dad's brain is continuing to decrease that sleep is even mentioned. And even then, it feels wrong.

"We're no good to him running on vending machine food and no sleep," Lorelei says quietly, rising from the chair beside Dad's bed.

Her face is swollen and red from crying. The skin beneath her eyes looks raw, like she'd spent the last several hours wiping tears away only for more to replace them. I try not to stare because I know I probably look just as bad, but it's impossible not to notice.

For the first time since meeting her, I stop seeing Lorelei as the woman my father is dating. Now she looks tired. Heartbroken. Human. She didn't deserve this. No one deserved to find the person they loved bleeding out on a bathroom floor.

While she disappears into the restroom to wash her face, my eyes drift back toward Dad. Machines breathe and pulse around him in steady rhythms that feel too mechanical to be keeping someone alive.

The thought of leaving him here—even for a few hours—makes guilt coil in my stomach almost immediately. But what other choice do we have? Our house isn't even a home anymore, not after this.

According to Lorelei, the police still had parts of it sectioned off while they finished documenting everything. I try not to picture it. The blood. The bathroom. The sight she must've seen when she went inside. The home that once held every good memory of our childhood suddenly feels ruined by a single moment.

When Lorelei finally returns, her face is damp and freshly scrubbed raw.

"I think we should go back to my place for a little while," she says carefully. "Eat something. Shower. Try to sleep for an hour or two before we come back tonight."

For a second, instinct tells me to refuse. Not because of spite. Because accepting comfort from another woman feels too much like betraying Mom, but Dad would want us to go. Deep down, I know that. And judging by the exhaustion weighing down every part of my body, I know Lorelei's right too. So none of us argues.

At Lorelei's house, she gives Chris and me neatly folded stacks of clothes along with towels, toothbrushes, and travel-sized toiletries before leading us upstairs toward separate guest rooms.

I vaguely remember seeing Trinity and Wesley come to their mother's aid after she helped Chris and me when we first arrived, but exhaustion blurred most of it together.

The entire house smells faintly like lemon and laundry detergent. Clean. Peaceful. Lived in. Normal. It feels wrong after the night we've had.

Before disappearing downstairs, Lorelei tells us she'll have food ready whenever we're done showering.

By now it's well past two, but time stopped feeling real sometime around the hospital waiting room. Yesterday and today have melted together into one long stretch of exhaustion.

The second the bathroom door shuts behind me, the silence settles over everything. My shower ends sooner than I'd like.

Not because I'm finished, but because exhaustion keeps dragging my eyes shut every time I stand still beneath the water too long. Still, it's the first moment of privacy I've had in what feels like forever, and part of me wants to stay there until the water turns cold.