Black Friday

CHAPTER 53

Nick stood at Jerry Yarden's side as Yarden gave his long-winded and animated version of what security had done to try and foil the attack. The Chapmans nodded, thin-lipped and unblinking. Nick was relieved when his cell phone started ringing.

"Sorry, I've got to take this call," he told them, excusing himself and escaping down the hall without even looking to see who was calling. "This is Nick Morrelli," he said with just a hint of importance mixed with a dab of irritation for the Chapmans' benefit.

"Finally. I can't believe you answered."

It was his sister, Christine. True enough, he had ignored her previous calls and not returned any of her messages. He hadn't been ready to divulge any details that he suspected the news reporter in her would be wagering for.

"Yeah, sorry. It's been crazy here."

He glanced back down the hall. The Chapmans had forgotten him already and were focused on poor Jerry. Nick took another hallway, searching for somewhere a bit quieter.

"We've been watching," Christine said. "It's hard to imagine. I can't even pretend to know what it must be like to be there in the middle of it."

He found a small, empty room off the elevators and ducked inside. Stacked, dirty coffee cups filled a table. Folding chairs were left in no particular pattern. Nick sat down in one against the wall.

"The director of security and I were just getting our asses chewed by a couple of the owners of the mall."

"You're kidding. What did they think could have been done?"

Nick heard the interest in Christine's voice and immediately hoped he wasn't sorry he had told her that.

"It's kind of late," he said, glancing at his watch and wanting to prevent any follow-up questions. "Is everything okay?"

"I didn't want to add to your stress, but I knew you'd want us to call you." He didn't like the change in her voice. "We had to have Dad taken by ambulance to Lakeside Hospital's emergency room."

Nick shot out of the chair, gripping the phone tight against his ear.

"Is he okay?" He found himself bracing one hand against the wall.

"They've got him stabilized."

"What happened?"

"Mom noticed his breathing was more…I guess raspy. That's how she described it." There was a long pause. "Nick, I don't think she's gonna be able to take care of him from here on out. It's getting harder and harder."

He needed to sit back down. Found the chair again.

"Okay," he offered as his best gesture of agreement. "What are you thinking?"

He'd never been in on these conversations. It had always been Christine and his mom making the decisions regarding his dad's care. He had been off in Boston, 1300 miles away, up until several months ago when he moved back to Omaha. Now he realized how lucky he had been all those years, and he couldn't help but wonder why Christine decided to foist this on him this time?

That wasn't fair. He knew that wasn't fair. But he was exhausted, overwhelmed and 400 miles from home. What could he do about it?

"You know she won't agree to moving him anywhere outside of home," Christine said. "But she's being stubborn about having some outside help. She keeps saying Dad doesn't want some stranger helping him pee. It's ridiculous."

He glanced around the room. He wanted to ask her why all of this needed to be decided right now? He was safe, stabilized, she had told him. Christine was always worrying about things before they happened.

"How long will they keep him in the hospital?"

"His doctor wants to run some tests. Probably through the weekend."

"Can we talk about it when I get home?"

Silence. Had it been the wrong thing to say?

"Sure, that's fine," she finally said.

Nick recognized that tone. It meant waiting was anything but fine. Passive aggressive. Wasn't that what they called it. Both of them had the symptoms. Number one on the list was "hates confrontation."

"It's just that I'm a little overwhelmed right this minute," he tried to explain and knew it sounded lame as soon as it escaped his mouth.

"I just wanted to talk to you about it, Nick." She was upset but doing her best to keep it from her voice. "I'm fully aware that when it comes time to actually fix it, that I'll be the one doing it by myself."

He didn't know what to say. He felt like she had slugged him in the gut. He felt like an asshole.

"I've gotta go," she said and he heard the click before he could respond.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He wasn't good at this family stuff. That's why they'd never asked him before. But if Christine knew that, why was she expecting something different from him? Why now?