Temporary Peace

JAMES

Having heard nothing from my father, we drove to the hospital, anyway. Destiny insisted we stop at a fast-food restaurant on the way to get my dad something to eat. The aroma of sizzling burgers and salty fries wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee.

“I don’t care if it’s not healthy, James. He needs comfort food. Just this once.” She was determined to get him what she considered being comfort food. I just shook my head. I’ve never seen my dad eat a hamburger and fries. Ever. But there was no arguing with a pregnant woman. The lack of peanut butter or strawberry ice cream in the house had already agitated her. I had to promise her solemnly to get it for her.

We found him in the waiting room where we left him. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all, his tired eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead. The uncomfortable chairs creaked as we sat down next to him. Outside the waiting area, the hospital staff carried on with their task. The low