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Allison kept her eyes closed. She listened to the familiar voices of her brother and sister, knowing that they thought she was asleep.

"Jas, I'm gonna go try and-"
"Try what?"
"Shhhh, be quiet..."
"I'm not gonna wake her up. Don't tell me what to do."
"Stay here."
"I wanna go with you."
"No, I need you to stay here with Al,"
"Who are you gonna talk to?"
"I don't know but I'll find someone-"
"What are they gonna tell you?"

Stevie took a deep breath and Jason dove in.

"It's been hours, Stevie. Do you know how many times the nurses have come in to check on her?"
"Seven," she shot back.
"Seven, exactly!"

They'd been counting?...

"We're not some dumb kids! We know about hard stuff like this!"
"Jas is right. Remember Iran?" Allison piped up, asking the always unspoken rhetorical question and making both of them jump.
"You're supposed to be asleep!" Stevie scolded, turning her frustrations onto her.
"Don't yell at Allie!" Jason rebuked, "She's in the hospital!"
"We're all in the hospital, Jas!"

"Have there really been seven nurses in here? You've counted all night?" Allison continued.
"None of them could give us information. What do you want to hear, Stevie?" Jason cried.
"Anything!"
"They won't tell us anything. He might be paralyzed or in a coma. Hell, you think they'd tell us if he's already dea-"
"Jason, don't!" Stevie shrieked, interrupting him sharply. "Don't say that!"

"Why can't they just tell us!?" Jason pressed on, his emotions getting the best of him.
"I don't know, Jas! I don't know anything! I don't know why they won't tell us. I don't know where Mom is. I don't know what's gonna happen to us. I just-" their sister stopped, taking what was supposed to be a deep breath but ended up very shallow.

"Stevie..." Allison said her name gently, feeling her tears fall down her cheeks.
"Stevie, I'm sorry," Jason apologized, realizing he and Allison had pushed too hard.
"It's okay," Stevie said, steeling herself as she brushed their words away and her light hair behind her ear. "We're all worried. I'll be back."
"Stevie, don't-"
"It's okay. I'm- I'm just gonna sit out here for a few minutes."

Allison saw the look her sister shot at Jason, telling him to stay in the room.
He threw himself into the chair beside her.
"Should I check on her?" he spoke up nervously, after a few moments.
"No," Allison replied simply, knowing their sister needed time.
Ironically, time was the exact commodity she wasn't sure they had.
"Were you really asleep?" he asked.
"No," she answered again, shaking her head.
"I didn't think so," Jason said thoughtfully, glancing at her in a way that reminded her so much of their father that it hurt.

"Dad..."

He was five, covered in frosting and beaming for his mother and her camera while his cousins sang "Happy Birthday."

He was seven. Standing in the outfield, he didn't have to look up into the stands to know his father was there. He could hear him shouting at the umpire. His team wasn't even up to bat. He felt his cheeks burn and put his head down.

He was eight. "What do you want to be when you grow up, Henry?" his Uncle asked him across the table.
"I wanna fly airplanes. I wanna be a pilot." He responded immediately. His brow furrowed at the laughter of his father and the Uncle.
He pressed on, trying to correct himself, to find an answer they would deem acceptable.
"I might be a fireman. Tommy says he's thinkin' about being a policeman. Maybe we could work together..." His mother's reassuring touch on his shoulder.
"You don't want to work at the Steel Mill like your old man?" His Uncle asked.
"No," the sure answer escaping from his lips before he could stop himself. He saw his father's angry look and he stole into the kitchen before anyone said another word.

Stevie slipped onto a bench halfway down the hall. She pulled her knees up to the chest and held herself, like she had when she had been frightened as a little girl.
They were right. Allison and Jason. She'd been trying so hard to protect them all night that she'd numbed the truth about why they were here. She'd gone for more blankets and brought back awful tasting hot chocolate.
She'd tried to make it as if they were settled on the couch for a movie night while Mom and Dad were out on a date. Her brother and sister were always strong. It was something Stevie admired, and sometimes loathed, about them both. She'd been trying to be steady for them, she forgot they had their own strength. They were all experiencing the same night in different ways and coping to the best of their abilities, under the circumstances. But they were right, they had to be given some information quickly. The growing uncertainty was beginning to splinter their solid foundation, the same way the glass from the car had shattered like raindrops out over the fresh snow.

"Daddy?"

"Tag! You're it!" He was ten. The sun was warm and the Atlantic was cold as it nipped at his heels, he chased Shane through the water. His mother's sweet laughter over the cacophony of the waves,"You're getting so fast, Henry!" She held a small Erin as Maureen splashed in the wake nearby.

He was eleven. The fresh air ruffling his hair and his dark green windbreaker, the ground speeding by beneath him on his bicycle.

Allison pressed her head back against the white pillows before she turned to look at him.
"What if we try to call Uncle Will?"
"I thought of that," Jason replied, threading his fingers through a hole at the end of Allison's blanket. "The cell service is shot, Al. That's why we can't get in touch with Mom."
"Do we even know where she is?" Allison asked, tenuously.
Jason was sure the look on his face gave her the answer she didn't want to hear before he spoke, "Not yet."
"So, we're on our own?"
"No," Stevie answered shyly, from the doorway. "We're together."