He was dressed in a wrinkled white shirt and a pair of track pants, and his good black leather loafers sat beside the bed. His hair had been combed flat across his head. A small overnight bag was at the ready on the visitor’s chair. “You’re on time,” his father said. “I said I’d be here.” Tyler had been calling the hospital every other day during the week to stay informed on his father’s progress, but he hadn’t once spoken to his father, and his father had made no effort to contact him. No surprises there. Now, they eyed each other silently before his father dipped his head in a small, grudging nod. Tyler glanced at the overnight bag. “Is this yours?” “Who else would it belong to?” Tyler ignored the goad and hefted the bag. “Do we need to sign you out or anything?” “The head nurse, the gray-haired one, said she had some instructions for you.”
