When I got off the elevator on six, the first familiar face I saw was Jannie’s. She was parked on the edge of one of the molded plastic chairs just outside the ICU. When she saw me, she ran into my arms and held me tight.

“Nana’s in a coma, Daddy. They don’t know if she’s going to wake up or not.”

“Shhh. I know, I know. I’m here now.” I felt her go from stiff to limp as the tears started. Jannie was so strong and so fragile at the same time. Just like Nana, I couldn’t help thinking as I held her. “Have you seen her?” I asked.

She nodded against my chest. “Only for a minute or so. The nurse told me I had to wait out here.”

“Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “I think I need you for this.”

We found Bree sitting next to Nana’s bed, in the same chair I’d slept in the night before. She got up and put her arms around both of us.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.

“What happened?” I whispered back. In case Nana could hear, I suppose.

“Her kidney function just spiraled, Alex. They have her on dialysis now, and she’s back on the hydralazine, the beta blockers…”

I could barely hear Bree’s words, or sort out their meaning. My legs were weak, my head spinning in fast little circles.

Nothing could have prepared me for how much worse Nana looked.

She was on the ventilator again, this time with a tracheostomy right into her throat. There was a feeding tube in her nose now, and the dialysis too. But the worst by far was Nana’s face—all pinched and drawn down, like she was in pain. I had thought she would just look asleep, but it was much worse than that.

I squeezed in to sit by her. “It’s Alex. I’m here now. It’s Alex, old woman.”

I felt as if I were on the opposite side of a thick piece of glass from Nana. I could talk to her and touch her and see her, but I couldn’t actually reach her, and it was the most helpless sensation I’d ever known. I had this terrible sick feeling that I knew what was coming next.

I’m usually good in a crisis—it’s what I do for a living—but I was barely holding it together. When Jannie came over to stand beside me, I didn’t bother to try and hide the tears coming down my cheeks.

This wasn’t just happening to Nana. It was happening to all of us.

And as we sat there watching Nana, a tear ran down her cheek.

“Nana,” we all said at once. But she didn’t speak back to us or even try to open her eyes.

There was just that single tear.

Chapter 61

WHEN I WASN’T sleeping that night, or getting out of the nurses’ way every few hours while they checked their patient, I was talking to Nana. At first, I stuck to the soft stuff—how much we loved her, how much we were pulling for her, and even just what was going on in the room.