“It’s just a funeral,” she answers. “If ye can’t laugh when you’re dead, when can ye laugh?”
Well, whatever it is, it’s nice to see Padraig smile, even if he’s crying at the same time. He continues, looking everyone in the crowd in the eye. “I remember when I first learned how to drive and my dad was my teacher.”
Some people laugh and moan in response to that, knowing where it’s going.
“First day out on the road and things are going okay. He’s calling me a right eejit for not using my turn signal or braking too harshly, ye know, normal things. And on the way back he decides I’m too thick and he’s had enough. He pushes me out of the car and says to watch him from the side of the road. There I am, fifteen, standing on the side of the road, not far from here actually,” he points off into the rolling hills, “and he drives off down the road at the speed of light. Next thing I know, I hear sirens and I see him speeding back, the police car going after him, lights ablazing.”
I’m laughing now along with everyone, picturing the scene with angry, fed-up Colin behind the wheel.
“And then,” Padraig says through a laugh, “my dad comes back around again, down through another road. Stops right in front of me. The cop pulls up behind him. I believe that cop might have been you Mr. Gallagher.” Padraig points to someone in the back row. “He comes out and he starts yelling at my dad but my dad gets out and points at me and says, ‘I’m teaching my dear boy how to drive. I thought I’d start off with what not to do.’ I believe he didn’t even get a ticket for that.”
More laughter ripples through the crowd, mixing with the tears.
“Another time,” Padraig begins but his smile begins to shake and then falter. A blank expression comes over his eyes for a second. “Another time,” he says again, clearing his throat and looking away, blinking rapidly.
Complete horror comes over him and he stiffens.
I don’t think this is him overcome with grief.
I think this is something else.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m standing up.
“Padraig,” I say to him.
He looks in my direction.
“Valerie?”
It’s a question.
He’s looking in my direction but his eyes aren’t meeting mine.
He can’t see me.
Oh my god.
“What’s going on?” I hear Agnes say.
“Valerie,” he says again and his hands go out in front of him, waving blindly. “I can’t … I can’t see. I can’t see!”
I run over to him just as he’s trying to come over to me.
Before I can even reach him, his legs cross and he pitches forward and I’m too late. He falls to the ground in a heap.
“Padraig!” I scream, dropping to my knees beside him, trying to turn him over. I lean in close, listening to his breath. He is breathing and when I push my fingers at his neck his pulse seems strong enough.
Dr. Byrne had said that it’s rare any MS symptoms might make you end up in the hospital, but they do happen and since his is so aggressive, I’m not going to take my chances.
“Someone call an ambulance!” I yell up at the confused crowd that has gathered around us. “We need to get him to the hospital, now!”
“How is he? When can I see him?” I ask the doctor for the millionth time.
“We’re still running some tests,” he says to me. “I know this is hard for you.”
It’s the same doctor from last week when Colin was admitted to the hospital and I’m not sure how much experience he has dealing with MS. I called Dr. Byrne the moment this happened and he said he was on his way but he hasn’t shown yet.
“But his vision … can he …” I trail off, choking on the words, on what might lay ahead.
He nods. “His vision is coming back. Just a temporary loss.”
I exhale loudly, nearly keeling over with relief.
“This happens with MS. I promise I’ll let you know when you can see him, soon,” he says and then walks off down the hall.
I sigh and turn around, looking at Agnes and the Major sitting on the waiting room seats. It’s like it’s last week’s tragedy all over again, except this time Hemi is here, who went to the cafeteria to get everyone coffee.
“I don’t understand it,” Agnes says, shaking her head and sniffling into a