on the panel and the nurse winks at me as the door shuts.
Yeah, old me would have been all about that.
New me?
I’m a forever taken and faithful man.
“Thank you for choosing Atlantic City Hospital, the number one choice for patients who truly want to be cared for. From general surgery to family medicine, our highly-trained medical staff here at ACH will do everything in their power to make sure you and your loved ones feel as though you are at home—” the automatic voice fades when I step out onto the third floor.
Thank god I don’t have to hear those lies anymore. There is nothing worse than hearing that on constant repeat. This place does not feel like home. Not even close.
The third floor is like entering another world. The walls are painted blue and it looks fresh, while the tile looks like it has signatures from every child that has entered this place.
Fuck. I hope they all survived.
This is depressing.
“Hi, can I help you?” a cheery, young blonde pipes up from behind the desk. She smiles, and her kindness warms up the horrible edge lingering in the air.
I step over as many names on the ground as I can. I don’t know, I feel like it’s bad luck if I step on them. If I step on a crack, I’ll break my mother’s back, that type of thing.
She has an amused expression stretching her lips as I finally make it to the counter.
“I hope you can help me. My Pops is here. His name is Taylor. Ronald Taylor.”
The smile on her face dims and she nods. “He’s going to be in room 356. You must be Amos.”
“Uh, yeah,” I nod, a bit uneasy.
“He talks a lot about his kids. We were wondering if you were going to show.” She leans in and whispers, placing her hand against her mouth so no one can see her. “We had a bet going.”
“And were you on the betting side that I would show or wouldn’t?”
“Would. It’s too hard to ignore a parent while they are in this condition.”
“Well—” I pull out my wallet and slap twenty bucks on the counter. “I’m more surprised than you are for showing up here. Room 356?” I point my finger down the hall and take a step in that direction.
She points her French manicured finger into the other direction, the hall to the left. “That way,” she directs.
“Thanks.” I nod, giving her a quick salute.
“Hey, um, maybe when you’re done and it isn’t a bad time, you’d want to go out to get a drink?” she asks as I pass her.
“Sorry. Happily married man. I’m flattered, though.”
“Oh, lucky lady,” she says. “Unfair to women all around.”
She’s nice, but she’s forward, I’ll give her that. She’s pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as my Violet. “Not unfair to me,” I say, and after I say it, I realize it’s insulting, so I don’t look back and put one foot in front of the other.
I pass rooms as I go. Each one is more depressing than the last.
Names on the tile get fewer and further between and I still try to miss them, skipping over them. You know, just in case.
350.
352.
354.
I stop in the middle of the hallway before room 356. I can hear laughter, but the kind from a game show on a TV. My nerves are on fire in my stomach. My heart is beating a million miles an hour, and my palms are starting to sweat.
I can’t do this.
Why the fuck am I here? Violet needs me. I spin on my heel to get the fuck out of here when I run smack into someone.
“Shit. I’m sorry—” I stop short when I see Carson standing there. Of course I’d run into him.
He is clearly stunned and takes a step back. “What are you doing here, Amos?”
“Violet got into a car accident with her sisters and it was pretty serious. I got to thinking of you guys and thought of Dad, but this was a mistake. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Carson. I just… I can’t.” It’s nearly impossible to miss the names scribbled on the tile.
“You’re all he has talked about,” Carson says.
I’m almost at the end of the hall when he says that, and of course, I have to stop.
“He talks about all of your baseball games, and how he wishes he could have seen you grow up more, but he was proud of the man you became by standing up to him