of his hand against mine, the strength that pulsed through him. I'm lost in thoughts as I zombie-walk back into the waiting room and sink into a chair in the corner to continue my purgatory of waiting. The coffee is awful, but I drink it anyway, hoping it gives my muddled mind some clarity. When Es and Pete walk in carrying a bag from Painted Lady Coffee House, I stand to hug them both. "Thank you for coming."
Pete kisses my cheek. "We didn't just come. We brought provisions." He looks around the hospital, his nose crinkling with distaste. "I hope you haven't touched anything or anyone here."
I chuckle. "Of course not. I've been floating around to avoid the germs."
Es hands me a bag and a steaming cup of coffee. "Eat. Drink. You'll need your strength."
They each flank me as we sit. I sip at the coffee and sigh. "Best in Portland."
"Any news?" Pete asks. He's a short man with curly red hair and glasses. He looks as if he could have been cast as one of the Weasley's in the Harry Potter movies. There are a lot of raised eyebrows when he and Es are together in public, but they don't seem to care. Pete told me he was once beat up for being gay. "I'm not gay," he said. "Es isn't a man, she's a woman. But it really doesn't matter. I love her as she is, whatever that body is. People can be so restrictive when it comes to love, but where's the sense in that?"
I think I fell in love with Pete a little bit that day. After time, he joined the ranks of people I love the most in the world. I tell them I know nothing, that I'm still waiting for the doctor to come update me.
"I texted The Roxy," Es says. "You're off the hook for work for as long as you need."
I half smile at her, my heart sinking further as the full ramifications of today hit me. My mother won't be able to work. I'll need to take care of her. We're barely surviving as it is. How am I going to get through this? But I can't worry about that now. First, I just need to make sure my mom is okay. We'll deal with the rest later.
Pete takes the bag from my hands and pulls out a sandwich. "Your favorite. Grilled cheese with bacon. Eat some."
He waves the sandwich around like I'm a toddler he has to coerce to eat, so I take a bite. It looks amazing, but today it tastes like ash in my mouth, and I feel like vomiting. I force the food down my throat and take another drink of the coffee. "I appreciate it, but I can't eat right now. Not until I know she's all right."
He nods and puts the remains of the sandwich back in his bag. And we wait. In silence. A television stuck on daytime talk shows plays in the background as my friends offer their support.
Finally a doctor comes out and calls my name. I leap up, making myself dizzy, and speed walk toward her. She's an older woman with long graying hair pulled back into a bun.
"Hello, Miss Spero, I'm Dr. Cameron. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long."
"How is my mother?" I ask.
"It's a complicated situation," she says, looking down at a file in her hands. "Your mother has a history of using pain medication? She was injured in a car accident years ago, yes?"
My body breaks out in a cold sweat at memories that can't possibly be mine, but feel viscerally mine none-the-less. I smell the burning flesh. Hear the crash of metal on metal. Taste the smoke and blood in my mouth. "Yes, she was injured badly."
The doctor nods. "Her blood tests revealed high levels of narcotics in her system. Was she abusing her pain medication?"
"She was in a lot of pain. It was getting worse. But she wasn't abusing anything, and I don't see what this has to do with her current condition."
"Maybe it doesn't," the doctor says. "I'm just trying to understand her medical history."
"And I'm trying to understand what's wrong with her. How does a relatively healthy woman collapse like this with no provocation? What happened?"
"Your mother is in a coma," Dr. Cameron says. "Beyond that, she's essentially brain dead. Her body is functioning, but barely. Without life support she wouldn't be alive right now. And with it... I'm afraid she's only