Page 19 of Unlikely
“Will I see you at the hospital?” I ask him.
The silence between us stretches, and I already know I’m not going to like his answer.
“If Frankie comes, I don’t think I can.”
Unshed tears fill my eyes, anger at both Frankie and Arlo for making such a mess of things all those years ago.
“Keep me posted on Lennox.” When I can’t find the words to fill the silence, he continues. “I’m sorry, Clem. I really, really am.”
Unable to muster up another word, I hang up, already too exhausted to do this all over again.
Like the perfect friend she is, Raine comes into the staffroom from the café floor, concern etched into all her features.
“I’ve got ten minutes. Tell me what you need me to do.”
I hand her my phone. “Can you call Remy and tell him to meet me here so we can go to the hospital together?”
She grabs the cell, her face scrunching up at the screen. “We’re going to have to do something about this screen before you cut up your fingers.”
“I can’t afford to fix it right now,” I admit. “And if I could, I don’t even have the time.”
“Okay, fine. We’ll put this on the back burner,” she says cautiously. “I’ll call Remy, and it’ll be one less thing you have to worry about.”
Quickly, I take myself to the bathroom and wash my face. When I return, my cell is sitting neatly on the table, and I know I can’t put off that last phone call any longer.
Anger and sadness churn in my stomach, and I wonder at what point life stops being unfair. At what point do any of us get some reprieve from the constant hurdles and heartache?
Pacing around the room, I search for Frankie’s number, and press call before I can even change my mind. It rings once, twice, three times, and I imagine him staring at the phone, confused as to whether or not it’s a prank call.
“Hello.”
As if time stood still, his voice is still recognizable, and my chest feels as if it’s about to collapse in on itself at the sound of it.
“Frankie,” I manage to say. “Frankie, you there?”
“Clem.” He sounds cautious, and there’s no doubt he’s on high alert. “What is it?”
“It’s Lennox,” I breathe out, ripping the Band-Aid off. “He’s hurt. You need to come home.”
I expect his shock and his silence, but I don’t have the time to coddle one brother and be away from the other.
“Frankie,” I scold. “Did you hear me? You can’t stay away from this. You need to come home.”
“I-is he d-dying?” he stutters “Is he dead?”
“No,” I say quickly, guilt consuming me that I didn’t anticipate his question. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s hurt and it’s bad, but nobody is dying or dead.”
“What happened?” he finally asks.
“He got hurt during a game. He blacked out, and when he came to…” I let out a resigned sigh, knowing I just need to get to the point. “He can’t hear, Frankie.” My voice cracks. “He can’t fucking hear.”
Just like Arlo, and I’m sure it was the same for Remy, the news needs time to sink in.
“Will his hearing come back?” he eventually manages to ask.
“Nobody seems to know for sure yet.” I pause, inhaling a lungful of air, needing it to get Frankie to understand we don’t have time for his indecision. “He doesn’t want us around him, Frankie. And I refuse to watch him retreat into himself. Not after he’s finally found his footing.”
The road from childhood to adulthood was a hard one for Lennox. He’d gone from malnourished and skittish to silent and tense. Lennox and Frankie had found each other later in life—and by extension, Arlo, Remy and me—despite their biological connection. I know guilt eats at Frankie daily for failing him, then and now, but this is the time to make it right.