Chai Tea Sunday by Heather A. Clark Read Free Book Online Page B

take in what he was saying. I could hear Eric’s mother crying softly in the corner and my mother went to her side to comfort her as she wiped away her own tears.
    â€œWhat does it mean?” Eric asked, suddenly seeming more angry than afraid.
    â€œShe has liver failure and now her other organs are shutting down. She doesn’t have much time,” Dr. McKinnon said gently. “You should come and spend time with her in the NICU . I suspect she has only a few days. We are doing everything we can for your daughter. We have the pediatric liver specialists from SickKids Hospital suggesting experimental treatments for us to try, but so far she is not responding to our resuscitative measures.”
    My breath left me. I struggled to move. I needed to get out of the bed and go to her. But I was tied to the bed by catheter and IV . Dr. McKinnon gently guided me back down, and explained that I would be able to see her as soon as the nurses cleared me to go in a wheelchair — probably within an hour or two. Dr. McKinnon turned to Eric and told him he could visit the NICU with him if he would like as he was returning there immediately.
    â€œCan you bring Ella here to the room?” Eric demanded, squishing his face into an expression I didn’t recognize. His eyes seemed both disturbing and new — even to me — his wife and partner of almost fifteen years.
    â€œWe need to support her breathing and organs right now, and I think it’s best if she stays in the NICU . An entire team is doing everything we can for your daughter.”
    â€œWill she . . . can she . . . is there a chance this might get better?” I was clinging to hope.
    â€œOccasionally, but not often, some newborns have been known to overcome the effects of neonatal hemochromatosis. But you need to know that Ella’s condition is severe — the worst we have ever seen. You need to prepare yourselves. . . .” He paused, almost at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry.”
    â€œWhen will you be back?” I asked, desperate for the doctor to stay, yet knowing it was better if he was with Ella.
    â€œOne of our team members will bring you updates. I will try and come back later this evening, but the nurses are also here whenever you need them.” Dr. McKinnon paused, his gaze shifting from Eric to me as an empathetic sadness filled his eyes. “I’ll ask a nurse to see if we can get Nicky into a wheelchair soon. So you can both come together and see Ella in the NICU .” He quickly left, seemingly uncomfortable and anxious to exit the room.
    â€œThank you, doctor,” Eric replied, barely above a whisper. He sank into the chair at the end of my hospital bed, and buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with his sobs.
    My mother came to my side and sat gently on the bed to make sure she didn’t tug at my catheter or cause pain to my fresh C-section wound. Gingerly, she pulled me into a warm hug so we could cry together.
    Yet my tears didn’t come. I was numb. In shock. Denying everything the doctor had told us. For some reason, at that moment, I felt absolutely nothing.
    Brian stood awkwardly in the corner, moving his hands from his pockets to his side, while Amelia sat on the arm of Eric’s chair, her hand placed firmly on his shoulder. Brian muttered something about needing air and quickly left the room, shooting his wife an apologetic look before he disappeared, promising he would be back soon.
    From my bed, I could hear Amelia’s soft words, whispered through her sniffles. “Go to her, Eric. She needs you. You need each other.”
    Slowly, Eric stood to full height and crossed the room. He stood beside my bed, and awkwardly patted my back in a way that reminded me more of a proud father congratulating his son after scoring a goal than a husband consoling his wife in a tragic time of grief.
    I turned from my mother and held my arms up to Eric, as though I was a