Gary glared at his reflection in the hospital entrance door. People were everywhere: rushing in and out, unaware of the pain he was feeling now. Of course, he never had the best way of showing it.
Gary met the triage (?) nurse at the desk. She was seeing a teenaged girl with short red hair. Squib had to look away. The hospital had always been a bad place for him.
The triage nurse came out to greet him.
"Hi. My daughter Mabel Furlong is here?" He said to her.
The nurse nodded and repied, "One minute. I'll call Dr. Caldwell."
The doctor appeared moments later. She immediately brought Squib into the I.C.U. centre where Mabel was lying in a bed, hooked up to numerous machines.
Her breathing looked irregualar and she was covered in bandages all over. Gary was kept form all this by a thin pane of glass.
Dr. Caldwell began speaking, "As Nurse McKee said on the phone, her friends were joyriding when they crashed," She flipped through some papers in a folder in her hand, "Many operations were required to keep Mabel in the state she is now."
Dr. Caldwell handed him the papers and Gary signed them.
Gary sighed, "I should've called...told her to come home a few hours ago." He slammed his fist into the wall and muttered, "I can't lose her too."
"Too?" Dr. Caldwell asked, clearly invading some private space.
Gary turned his head and glared at the doctor. But he decided to rest his anger and explain the situation, "Mabel's mother and I were yougn when we had Mabel. After Mabel was born, Cody drowned."
The doctor nodded, "Would you like to go in?" She asked, sympathizing with him.
Gary nodded as the doctor gingerly opened the door. After he went in, Dr. Caldwell shut the door and tended to her other patients.
Gary took a seat beside Mabel, "I'm sorry." He simply told her, "I'm sorry for not being that great to you."
He continued, "You'll live, though. Don;t worry about that." He said to her, though it seemed she wasnt listening, "It seemed someone was watching you." He started crying a bit, "I'd like to think it was your mother."
Not able to handle the sight of his daughter in pain, Gary got up and left dabbing his eyes with a tissue. He was going home.
Gary stood by his closet. It was opened and he was staring at something that he hadnt seen in a while.
His racket, shining with all the might and pride it earned him back at Cascadia.
He carefully picked it up, as if it was made out of gold and meant all the world to him. He swung it, feeling that familiar feel through his body when he used to play.
Gary packed the racket, some tennis balls, and headed off the a place he hadn't expected to ever go to again.
A tennis court.