A Reason to Exist

Chapter 64

We found out that Tucker was in the emergency ward. 'Only family is allowed in,' the nurse told us. 'These are high-needs patients. There's a waiting room for visitors. I believe some of his family are waiting for news in there. I'll show you where it is.'

We followed the nurse down the corridor. This was the trauma part of the hospital where staff rushed and code blues were called out over the loudspeaker. Dad put his arm around me and mum looked over. She took my hand. The three of us were walking together as a unit, connected again. A family reunion in a state of emergency, years of dysfunction finally put aside.

Tucker's mum and dad were in the waiting room. Astrid's eyes were red and bee-stung. She looked up at me and said 'Macy' and covered her mouth as though it was unthinkable to even utter a word. I sat beside her, feeling doom before it had even been spoken.

'What are they saying?' I asked.

'It's not good. Internal bleeding and a suspected haemorrhage. They're about to operate on him.'

'His head?'

She nodded. 'We won't know much until he's had this operation.'

There were no answers to my questions. Where before I had purpose, to get out of that hospital room and to be here, now I found there was no purpose, only sadness and fear and two lovely parents who were absolutely shattered. Tucker's dad, who I couldn't even bring myself to say hello to, was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. He couldn't even look up. It was too tragic to speak. The day before, we'd laughed in Astrid's kitchen, she'd lifted her chin and buried her nose into her son's neck. Life was full of optimism. Now she was sitting in a waiting room, a purgatory, a temporary status camp. She was waiting for news on the boy she'd given life to on what kind of a life he'd now have.

'We'll take Macy home now,' dad said stepping forward. 'Please let us know when you know something.'

'We'll be praying for positive news,' mum said.

We walked quietly to dad's car. He must've picked mum up on the way to the hospital.

'Who's with Tate?' I asked.

'Nana,' mum said. 'She was at the show, so she stayed till he was finished. Your dad picked me up from the concert.' She turned to dad. 'I can collect the car tomorrow.'

'I can drop you there if you like in the morning.'

'Thank you. That would be good.'

It was just a logistical arrangement, but it felt like the signing of a peace treaty after a four-year war. I sat in the back of the car and tears streamed down my cheeks for everything. I touched a piece of paper in the car door console. It wasn't wood. But it was the best I had. I tapped and tapped the paper, praying to it. Save him. Please. Save him.