The Good Goodbye Read Online Free Page B

cry.
    “I know, Nat. They’ll tell us something soon.”

    People are everywhere, sitting, leaning against walls, looking weary, looking defeated. A little girl holds her arm to her chest, her red tights ripped. College-age kids huddle in a corner, blankets draped around their shoulders. “Where’s Rory? She should be here somewhere.” Arden and Rory are inseparable. The two of them on the boat, their laughter trailing across the lake. Wait. “Maybe she’s with Arden?” Keeping her company until we got here.
    “I bet she is. I bet that’s exactly where she is.”
    Another man in a white lab coat strides past. He doesn’t look over. The TV plays silent jumpy images. Outside the window, a police cruiser flashes red and blue lights.
    “Mr. Falcone? Mrs. Falcone?”
    A woman in green scrubs is holding a clipboard. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Dr. Sisneros.” She’s young, plain-faced, and stocky, her brown hair scraped back from a square forehead. A green surgical mask hangs around her neck. “Let’s talk in the family lounge.”
    What terrible thing does she have to tell us that she can’t say out here? But she’s already turned away, and so we follow her as she walks briskly down the hallway through a series of doors that swing open when she smacks the metal plate on the wall. The sounds from the emergency room fade and now it’s quiet. We are crossing from one world to another. At last we step into a room. It’s empty, a washed-out space.
    “How’s Arden?” I ask. “Where is she?”
    She looks at me with an odd expression. “Your daughter’s sustained several fractures and has second- and third-degree burns on her arms and torso. We haven’t ruled out spinal involvement yet. We’ve put a tube into her airway to help her breathe, but right now we’re mostly concerned with the swelling in her brain. We’re about to take her into surgery.”
    Her spine, her brain. Arden’s rushing away from us, in bits and pieces.

    “For what?” Theo says. “No one said anything about surgery.”
    “We need to insert a drain into her skull, but we have to have your signed permission.”
    They want to drill a hole into my daughter’s skull. I’ve cradled that head in my hands, seen the shadowy soft areas Theo and I’d been warned to protect lying between thin cranial plates of bone. The world tilts. I sit hard on a chair, grip the cold metal arms. “Is it dangerous?” My voice comes from far away.
    “Well, there are risks with any operation.”
    I force myself to look up at her. Her eyes are pale blue, as clear as water. “But is it dangerous ?”
    “It’s more dangerous to let the fluid build up unchecked.”
    I let out my breath in a whoosh, then nod. She extends the clipboard to Theo. After a moment, he takes it and clicks the pen. “How long will this take?”
    “Not long. It’s a fairly quick procedure.”
    Theo hands the clipboard back and sits beside me. I reach for his hand and knit my fingers with his, familiar and comforting. “Can we see her?”
    “I’m sorry, but we have to take her in right away. You can see her as soon as she’s out of surgery.”
    “Is she going to be…all right?” Is she going to die?
    “We’re doing everything we can.”
    “Are you the surgeon?” Theo asks.
    “I’m the resident.” She’s at the door, wanting to leave. “I was here when they admitted your daughters.”
    “Daughters?” I repeat.
    —
    The ICU’s a circular spaceship with glass-walled rooms radiating out. A large reception desk hovers in the center. Rory’s room is dark, the curtain drawn across the glass wall facing the hallway, tiny red blinking lights on various machines casting an amber glow across the bed against the wall. Beside it, a ghost rises from a chair. Gabrielle, her slight form swaying. “Natalie, our girls…”

    “I know. I know.” I hug her close. Her head presses against my shoulder, her hair slippery against my cheek. She sobs, her shoulders shaking. The anger