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Mary and Wilson entered the waiting room at quarter to two in the morning. It was completely empty, luckily for them, except for Billy and George occupying the entire side of the room. One wouldn't think that two people could take up nearly an entire half of a decent sized waiting room, but yet there they were.
Mary smiled at George sympathetically as they entered and Wilson went over to him. Mary followed on his heals, grasping Wilson's hand when she caught up with him.
"What is Billy doing here?" Mary asked George before Wilson got a chance to say anything to him.
"Well, Mom called me. I could hear Billy in the background saying that he wanted to come, so I swung by and got him on my way over here." He turned toward Wilson. "I hope that you don't mind or anything. Mom didn't." Wilson shook his head, saying that he didn't.
"Why isn't your mother here? Why would she let Billy come and not go herself?"
Wilson and George were quiet, not intending to answer her reasonable question. They both knew the answer and did not want to discuss what it meant at a time like this. "How's dad?" Wilson asked.
George lowered his head and sighed. "He had a massive heart attack; as bad if not worse than his last one. They're not telling me much. A nurse said that they are trying to stabilize him, and once that happens he'll be OK, but they're having a tough time doing that."
Wilson nodded and Mary wrapped her arm around his waist. She felt so bad for him. Mary felt someone tugging at the back of her shirt and turned around. Billy was staring behind her with big, brown puppy dog eyes. "Oh Billy," she remarked. He looked like he was going to start crying any second. She released Wilson and took Billy's hand, walking over with him to the line of chairs against the wall.
Mary sat down and pulled Billy onto her lap. His bottom lip quivered but he refused to cry in front of Mary. He didn't want her to think of him as a baby. It wouldn't have mattered if he did cry, though, because Mary was not really paying attention to him. Her eyes were fixed on Wilson and George. They both looked so upset and concerned. Wilson looked like he was yelling at George, too. This all was not good.
A few moments later, George rushed off down the hallway and Wilson plopped into the chair next to Mary. He picked up Mary's hand and Billy put his hand on top of their union. Wilson smiled at the both of them forlornly.
"So?" Mary asked. "Where did George go?"
"I sent him to go find out some stuff. He works here; he's a doctor. He should be able to get some information," he said sounding angry.
"Don't be mad at him," Mary said. "He's just as frazzled as you are."
Wilson sighed. "I'm not mad at him."
"At me?" Billy piped in.
Wilson ruffled Billy's hair. "No. I'm not mad at you either." Wilson paused and reflected. "I could never be this mat at you, no matter what you did."
Mary decided she had to say something. Wilson being this angry with his mother was not healthy. "Wilson, I-" Wilson glared at her and she stopped speaking. She pulled her hand away from his as she looked in the opposite direction and Billy's hand fell flat on the arm of the chair.
Wilson stood up emotionally and walked toward the door. "I'm going to take a walk," he called out as he pushed open the door. Tears of anguish welled up in Mary's eyes over him leaving, and she quickly wiped them away before Billy could see.
He was watching her too intently, though, not to notice. "Is Daddy mad at you?"
Mary smiled at him so he wouldn't get the wrong idea. "Dad's just a little upset right now…over a lot of things. It isn't just one thing. You're not the cause of any of it, though, so don't you worry."
"I'm not worried about Daddy, I'm worried about Grandpa. He's sick, right?" Mary nodded. "Is he going to be OK?"
"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said to appease the young boy's mind.
"Are you going to be OK?" Billy asked.
Mary furrowed her brow. "What?"
"You're sick, too, right? Are you going to be OK?"
This question Mary had not yet asked herself. She thought for a second, not of the real answer, but what she should say to him. The real answer she didn't want to know, unless if it was a yes. "I really hope so Billy." Billy wrapped his arms tightly around Mary's shoulders and she pulled him in closer to her.
***
Wilson wandered aimlessly around the hospital, finally stopping in front of the nursery. This was where he had met Mary a few months ago. This was where life began, and this was where it all started. He couldn't help but wonder though if another life was ending. He had a longing feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was loosing something. He hoped that it was just the idea of his parents ever being together, which was tearing him up inside, but he didn't think it was that.
Wilson looked in on all of the children in there. Billy wasn't born in this hospital, but it still reminded him of the day he was born. Billy was such a happy baby, and Wilson was such a sad father. Eight years later, he was still a sad father. A sad and angry father. Wilson reflected upon the last ten years of his life. From freshman year in high school until now, just about anything that can happen to a person had happened to him. He had had a child, married twice, lived in about five different states, had good jobs, gotten fired, graduated from college and high school, had fallen in love twice, and had an unofficial falling out with one of his parents. He knew that when people looked at him it appeared as if he had everything together, but he didn't. He never really had.
I should go into acting, he though as he pulled himself away from the glass window and back to the waiting room. The past ten years he had been acting OK, and he was still doing it now. Everything was a mess and no one knew. Not Mary, not George, not anyone. The only person he thought who might be able to understand was his father, and as he approached the cardiac area of the hospital he could feel him slipping away.
And if he lost his father, then what? Would he still be able to put up his façade? Keeping up appearances was already becoming so difficult; he didn't think he could do it for everyone anymore. He couldn't even fathom continuing to do it for himself.
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A/N: I know that not much really happened and it was more character development, but I wanted to end it here. Sort of a cliffhanger I guess, but not really. I didn't leave it like "Well, the doctor said…" or anything. That would be cruel and unusual punishment. Not that I am always a big fan of the justice system, but that one works for us.
Next chapter will be the outcome of the heart attack.
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Wilson's mother is about as evil as reviews can be good.
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