Chapter 12
The fluorescent light above me didn't flicker. That was the thing I kept watching while we waited. It buzzed, low and steady, and the red EMERGENCY sign glowed behind the glass doors without blinking. My blanket was pulled up too high and the plastic of the nasal cannula itched where it pressed under my nose. I was so tired my eyes kept sliding shut.
The RN hadn't moved. Her left hand, the one with the white glove, stayed right over mine on top of the light blue blanket. Her other hand was on the rail, easy, not gripping. She wasn't doing anything fast anymore. She just breathed with me.
"Hey," she said, quiet, like she didn't want the rest of the room to hear. "You with me?"
I tried to nod and it felt heavy. My throat was dry.
She shifted a little closer. I could see her RN badge catch the light and her stethoscope resting against her navy scrubs. Her messy bun had come a little loose.
"Let's check," she whispered. She tapped her finger lightly against the back of my hand. "Breathe for me. In, out. Good. That's good."
I breathed. It rattled a little. She watched the monitor for a second, then looked back at my face.
"You want a sip?" she asked. She already had the little paper cup with the bent straw. She held it steady and tipped it just enough so I didn't have to lift my head much. "Small one."
The water was cool and it hurt going down at first. I took one sip and then another, and she pulled the cup back before I could cough. She set it on the edge of the table where I could see it.
"You did good," she said. "You stay with me, okay? We're just waiting."
I wanted to close my eyes again. The tiredness pulled at the back of my head, behind my eyes. The blanket was warm and heavy. I felt my fingers loosen on their own. For a second I wasn't sure if I was awake or dreaming, with that buzzing light and the quiet.
Then her voice came again, a little more pointed.
"Hey, kiddo. Show me again," she said softly. "Can you show me? Just like before."
I knew what she meant. I made myself focus. My right hand was still on the blanket, and I curled my other fingers down and pushed two fingers up. It took more effort than it had before. My wrist shook a little. But I held it. Two fingers, straight up.
She didn't gasp this time. She just nodded, slow, and her eyes got a little wet.
"There you are," she said. She matched me, holding up her own two fingers close to mine so I could see. "I see you. I got it. You can rest that hand now."
I let my fingers drop, but I kept them bent, ready. I hadn't messed it up. I was still there.
From the other side of the bed, I heard movement. The older woman in the dark cardigan had stepped closer. She hadn't spoken in a long time. She put both her hands on the metal rail and didn't try to touch me at first, like she was asking permission.
"Honey," she said, and her voice was thin. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we didn't listen."
I turned my head. It took a second. Her gray hair was messed on one side and her eyes were red. She wasn't looking at the doctors or the RN. She was looking right at me.
"We thought you were just scared," she whispered. "We should've listened. That was wrong."
I didn't know what to say back. I swallowed. My throat still felt rough. I didn't nod or shake my head. I just looked at her so she knew I heard her.
The braided girl was next to her, holding the other rail with both hands. She was only a little older than me, maybe. Her braids had slipped over her shoulders and she was holding on tight, knuckles pale. She didn't say anything, but when I looked at her she gave me this small, tight nod, like she was going to stay there and not move.
Behind them, near the glass doors under that red sign, the Navy man was still there. He'd taken one step forward earlier, but now the second doctor in the white coat was standing angled in front of him, not touching him, just talking low. I could see the doctor's shoulder blocking the way, and his hand was open at his side, calm but firm. The Navy man's arms were at his sides and his mouth was a straight line. He wasn't coming closer.
The RN noticed me looking.
"They're staying right there," she said, quiet and steady, for me only. "Nobody's moving. You're safe right there."
The older woman reached out then, just her fingertips, and brushed the edge of the blanket near my elbow. "Is this okay?" she asked the RN, then looked at me. "Can I stay here?"
The RN nodded once. "Stay on that side. Hands on the rail."
So she stayed. The braided girl stayed. The RN kept her gloved hand over mine, thumb resting lightly over my wristband. The machines made their quiet beeps and my breathing evened out again. I felt the tiredness come back, but it wasn't the same as before. I wasn't drifting alone. Every few breaths the RN would squeeze my hand, just a little, and I'd squeeze back.
May you like
I closed my eyes for a little while and opened them again, and everyone was still in the same place. The light still buzzed. The cup with the straw was still there. And when the RN whispered, "You still with me?" I lifted those two fingers again, even though my arm felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and held them until she nodded.
We were waiting, but we were waiting together.
