The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) (12 page)

She finally let go of us, looked back to Dad, wiped her face, then stared at the floor.

"Dad's sleeping?" I said. "So, any news?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek and shook her head.

"Not sleeping," Eddie said from across the room, waking Granny in the process. "He's in a coma."

"Oh, Jane." Granny wobbled to her feet and walked toward me. I met her ninety-percent of the way. "So glad you made it, honey. It's going to be okay. Everything will be fine."

"Everything's not fine," Eddie said, rubbing his eyebrows. "It's not, Granny."

"Edward Darcy Austen!" Mom's tears dried right up as her face reddened.

"It's true." He hadn't looked up from his phone since I walked in.

"Eddie, why do you speak when you shouldn't and refuse to when you should?" I hugged Granny.

"Why do you go off and—"

"Enough you two," Mom said, now holding Dad's hand. "Your father could very well be dying. Maybe you two can find it within yourselves to stop arguing."

"Dying?" I looked from Mom to Granny, then noticed Donovan's bummed out face across the room. "Why is Dad dying?"

"He's not dying," Granny said.

Mom leaned into the hospital bed and sobbed into his hand.

"What's going on?" I pleaded. "What happened?"

"He was cleaning out the shed," Granny said. "He thought a bird flew at him, but he got a flu that wouldn't quite go away for the last week or so. When he came here they ran some tests and think he was bit by a bat and now has rabies."

"Rabies? There's a cure for that. People don't die from rabies."

Mom let out a loud cry again.

"Do they?" I whispered.

Donovan put his hand on Mom's shoulder and Granny put hers on mine. "He's in a medically induced coma. They are doing everything they can."

"But..." I couldn't lose it. Not in front of Mom. Not now. "He'll be okay." My voice shook. I steadied myself and tried again, "He's going to be okay. He will. There was an
Office
episode about this." Images of Michael Scott running down the sidewalk covered in sweat flashed through my mind. "Everyone was fine."

"This is real life," Eddie chimed in again.

"Put your phone away." I flicked his head.

He swatted my hand.

"Stop acting like you're toddlers," Mom said. "As you can see, your father is in a coma and doctors have warned me that this could be fatal." She sniffed. "Do you understand?"

I inched closer to Granny and whispered, "Has she left his side at all?"

"Of course not."

"Mom," I said. "Do you want to go get something to eat while I spend some time with Dad?"

"No." She ran her fingers along his jaw. "I'm not leaving his side."

"Mom, you—"

"I'm not leaving, Jane. I can't leave his side. You never know. You just never know...."

Donovan waved at me to let it go. I pulled a chair beside the hospital bed and sat beside him, mentally prepared for an Internet search extravaganza all about rabies. That would be later.

I kept staring at Mom. The pain on her face reminded me of a scene from
Batman Begins
, and I figured I probably shouldn't be thinking about Batman, so I focused on Dad's closed eyes. But Mom distracted me back to her face with every sniffle.

I don't know.

That level of love kind of freaked me out. I couldn't imagine loving a person like that. Where losing them is the most excruciating thing imaginable. I didn't like that. I didn't want another life to have that kind of power over me.

Donovan sat down beside me and held Dad's hand. The right side of my mouth pulled up into a jittery smile. He drummed on my knee and squeezed Dad's hand.

I imagined losing him. Standing over his casket as they lowered it into the earth. Then I quickly stopped imagining it because it was exactly what I feared.

The slightest inkling of what Mom felt. Creeping right in.

Don't die
, I said inside.
Don't you ever die, Donovan.

I tried to focus on the boutique, my business plan, the designs I needed to sew, decor, my obnoxious roommate, but it was too much. Just too much all at once and with Mom refusing to shower or leave Dad's side, I felt horrible trying to maintain a normal life while he was still in a coma. They said maybe he'd come out soon, but once they try to get them to wake up it really depends on the person. Doctors were happy with the results of his anti-viral meds though. They seemed optimistic, but I think all of us feared optimism because of the let down it could bring.

Fear or not, I refused to avoid optimism purely because of a
potential
let down. I believed and hoped Dad would be fine. Because he would.

That's all I needed to know.

Zoe ate a bowl of yogurt with blueberries on top as I poured cereal at the counter. I couldn't believe she was still living with me, but with their recent break up she seemed to become a little stalkeresque.

"How's Donny?" she asked for the six millionth time.

"Good." I crunched. "I'm good too. I mean, in case you were wondering."

"I thought maybe I heard him in your room last night."

"Nope." I crunched again. "He was on speaker phone though. So if you count his voice being in my room, then yeah, I guess he was."

She nodded and stared off for a second, then said, "So ... um ... have you guys ever like ... has he kissed you?"

I laughed a bit of milk right to my arm. And crunched. "No."

"Never? But you guys are so close." She blushed. "And he's so hot."

"He's okay."

"Whatever. His arms. His back. Those eyes and that messy hair. He's like perfect."

"He snores. Loud. He's horrible at laundry, pretty much lives out of his basket. He has a third nipple. Yes, it's true. And prominent. He constantly bangs the spoon against his teeth when he eats and always, always, always gets something stuck in his facial hair even if it's just a tiny bit of hair peeking through." I crunched. "So. Yeah. He's okay."

She laughed a little. "You swear you never kissed?"

"Not once. He's kissed the top of my head. I've kissed his cheek. In a school play he kissed my hand. That's about it."

Technically, I wasn't lying. Because he kissed me.

"Well, it's clear he's not into you like that, but I just figured you were into him."

"Why?"

"Because everyone is."

"I'm not everyone." I really wanted to know why it was so clear that he wasn't into me though. Clear? Why clear?

"That's an understatement." She put her bowl in the sink. "Mind washing that for me? I'm late for work."

I glanced at her bowl and nodded.

"Donny coming over tonight?" she said.

"Donny boy will not be coming over tonight. I'll be sure to let you know."

She stepped closer to me. Too close for comfort. And sniffed.

I stepped back. "Did I forget deodorant?"

She shook her head. "Sorry. I thought for a second that I smelled his cologne on you." She sighed. "I'm going to marry him, you know. He was looking for a ring. He wants to be with me."

"Hmm. Yeah. I hope it works out for you."

"Do you? I know you have to be jealous, being single for your entire life and all."

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

She grabbed her purse, checked her reflection in her phone, and opened the door. "Sorry if I upset you. You're time will come."

I laughed when she left and drank the milk in my bowl, washed our dishes, and wondered if people like Zoe realized they were so rude or if it just came so naturally that they genuinely believed they were being nice. I'm a believer in skepticism so I say ... rude. Just plain rude.

I loved my apartment. Minus the Zoe part, but she wouldn't stay forever. Would she? It was so bright. Mornings. Afternoons. Evenings. Bright, bright, bright. I tried to sit down at the dining room table and plan stuff for the boutique, but Dad kept popping into my mind and I felt bad leaving Mom there to cry at his side.

So I took a quick shower and called Autumn.

"Hey," I said. "I'm gonna cancel lunch plans. I think I'm gonna go visit my dad for a while and then come back and try to figure out a name for this boutique."

"Can I come over later? I'll help."

"Of course. What's mine is yours."

"Even Alistair Anonymous?"

"If he were mine, sure. But he's not."

She laughed. "I'll see you at seven?"

"Perfect."

"Send my love to your family."

"Will do."

Mom barely moved when I walked into the hospital room. I hadn't seen her sleep since he got there, so it was nice to see her conked out by Dad's bed, fingers locked with his. I watched them both, careful not to wake her. And I noticed Dad's eyelids flutter. At the same time as hers. I imagined them dancing together in their sleep.

I admit ... their love was beautiful, as over the top as it was. They were best friends
and
lovers. The ideal marriage, really. I figured I'd be more of the "I married my best friend type"—I know what you're thinking and I do
not
mean Donovan—but I could appreciate those who had what my parents had. Of course they were pretty much the only people I knew who had what they had. The staring into each other's eyes was a bit much though. And the emotional decay when something happens to the other one. Not so much a fan.

I would be stronger than that.

Donovan texted me.
How's Dad?

Me:
His eyelids are fluttering. Maybe that's a good sign? Mom is asleep beside him. Please don't ever let me fall apart if my husband gets sick. I want to be stronger.

Donovan:
Haha! :) Well, first you need a husband and secondly ... who said its not a strength to love someone that much?

Me:
Hmmmmm

Donovan:;)

Me:
I don't know. It seems weak to have your emotional stability depend on someone else being there.

Donovan:
I think it's a strength. When will you see love as something to admire?

Me:
Oh stop! I do see that.

Donovan:
Riiiiiight. Email lover boy?

I slipped my phone back into my purse and ignored him. A nurse walked in and checked Dad, then typed some stuff on a computer next to the bed. Mom stirred and jumped when she saw me.

"How long have you been here?" She rubbed her eyes, then placed her hand right back on Dad's. Before I could answer she looked at the nurse. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, Mrs. Austen. He should be waking up soon. Remember it will be fuzzy for him and things may not make sense."

They also told us that he may be paralyzed or have speech impairments. If he did walk again, he would need physical therapy to retrain his body. All because of a bat.

Mom turned back to me and pulled me down to the chair beside her. "How've you been, Jane? Is the apartment working out for you?"

"It's going okay. Hard to focus with Dad in here."

"I know." She looked at him. "I know."

"Have you eaten?"

"A little. The nurses are so kind."

"Mom. You need to eat. Dad would want you to take care of yourself."

"I'm eating." She almost laughed. "How's Donovan? Autumn?"

"Good."

"Has Don decided what to do next year?"

"Not that I know of. I'm gonna guess he ends up doing whatever his girlfriend of the moment is doing."

Mom flew into the air and scared the shibbles out of me. She hovered over Dad and I panicked, ran to the door, and screamed for the nurse. People rushed into the room, then backed away from the bed. Smiling.

What?

I went back to Mom's side and saw Dad's eyes flickering open. She caressed his forehead and hair as he slowly came back to life. I stepped back with the nurses and stood quietly. Another nurse clicked on the computer again while the rest of us watched Mom's tears dropped to Dad's sheets. A few minutes of blinking and sniffling later, Dad lifted his hand and brushed a tear from Mom's cheek. She cried harder. I even held back a tear. Or maybe even two.

They stayed like that for a while. Staring at each other like old times. I wondered how bad he was. He obviously moved his arm. What about his legs? What about his brain?

He tried to speak, but it was raspy, deep, and muffled.

"I love you too," Mom said. "I love you too, my dear, sweet husband."

I didn't want to interrupt their time together, so I followed the nurses back into the hall and found a seat in the waiting area at the end, across from the elevators.

Feeling a little inspired and slightly less cynical, I got on my phone and brought up Hatchenfield's website. After looking at Alistair's picture for thirty seconds too long, I went to the contact form and typed.

HEY HATCHERS!

I am a US girl wondering when you'll be in Philly. Would love to see you play at TLA. Maybe even make you trip at the airport so I can get a free latte out of it. Let me know.

Jane Austen

No... not that Jane Austen

I totally pulled one of those cliche moments in movies where your hand hovers over the send button. The clock ticks in the background. The hand hovers. So mysterious. Will she click or not? Of course I would. They always do. I don't know what the point of the hovering hand is, but I managed to do it myself.