The Imperfect Marriage novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Waiting Room

Ross drove the pickup down the hill at a speed I would have reported to the police.

He didn't say a word.

He just kept one hand on the wheel, and the other on my knee, steady.

St. Luke's emergency entrance glowed orange in the dark.

I walked in still wearing the baseball shirt under my peacoat and a pair of Ross's sweatpants rolled four times at the ankle.

The charge nurse at the desk had trained me eight years ago.

She looked at my face and said nothing, and walked me straight back.

My father lay on a gurney with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and wires on his chest.

His color was bad.

His eyes found me over the mask and he rolled them.

I almost fell down in relief.

"Don't," he rasped. "Don't you look at me like that."

"You fell in the kitchen."

"I sat down fast."

"Dad."

"There was a banana peel."

"Mr. Lund," said the cardiologist, a tired woman who had come in from home, "there was no banana peel. Your heart paused for eight seconds. You're lucky your neighbor has good ears."

She told me what I already knew, in the calm voice we all use.

His heart was failing faster than the numbers had predicted.

The pump could not wait until the surgery date.

"Eight days is the very outside," she said. "Eight days with no stress, no stairs, no excitement."

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