KING'S BAY MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
Morning beams of light are splayed
across the linoleum floor of the nurses' station. The slender windows that
line one wall of the area frame the morning scene outside: Buildings and
greenery and people are lulled into comfort by the summer warmth.
But somehow, the windows also seem
like some sort of barrier -- as if they only provide a view into that world,
not a means of reaching it. Inside the hospital, the bustle of the previous
night has yet to die down. Cases have been pouring in all night with an
unnerving steadiness.
Claire
is finding that the feeling
with which she awoke this morning -- that fresh feeling that comes with
summer mornings so full of light and warmth and promise -- is fading quickly
now that she has stepped inside the hospital. Especially as she rereads
the chart in front of her.
"Jeez," she sighs. Nervousness is
stabbing at her insides all over again, the same way it did when she heard
the news early this morning when she arrived for her shift. Her worries
were dulled somewhat after speaking to one of the doctors, but reading
the chart in all its gruesome detail has sharpened the fear.
"Claire," comes the weary voice from
across the room. Claire looks up, not sure how to react to
Sarah.
"Hi," she says finally, unconsciously
sighing again. "How are you holding up?"
Sarah comes closer, hands tucked
in the back pockets of her jeans. "I'm all right. Tired, I guess. I've
been here since--since they called me last night."
"I'm sorry," Claire offers. "I know
how scary this must be ..."
"Of course you do. After what happened
to Tim ...
This is like my worst nightmare, Claire. Losing my brother was
bad enough. And now for Brent
to be--" She stops, out of both fear and
uncertainty. "How is he, really? Everyone here's been giving me the run-around,
I think."
"The big problem right now is that
he's not conscious. If he wakes up, that will be major progress."
"Will he? I mean--this sounds really
serious."
"I can't give you any definites,"
Claire says with a little shake of her head. "Between the smoke inhalation
and the burns and the head trauma and the other little things -- it added
up to a lot of trauma for his body."
Sarah considers all of this silently,
adding up the injuries and then calculating some set of odds as though
she's doing some type of cosmic gambling. Her front teeth grip her lower
lip tightly.
Claire places a sympathetic hand
on Sarah's arm. "Maybe you should go get some rest. If there's any news,
I'll give you a call--"
"No. I can't. I couldn't rest even
if I wanted to, I don't think. I'm gonna--I've got to stay here until Brent
wakes up."
"It may not be immediate. And you're
exhausted."
"I don't care," Sarah insists. "I
want to be here when he wakes up, and I want to be here until he wakes
up. I want to be there so I can pray for him and talk to him."
Claire swallows and clutches the
file to her chest. "How are things between the two of you, anyway? I was
... honestly, I was a little bit surprised to see that you were even here."
"Things have been rough," Sarah admits.
Claire is almost certain that she can see a glimmer of rage pass through
Sarah's eyes before she adds, "But we're going to get our act together.
This whole thing--it's shown me how important Brent is to me, how horrible
it would be to lose him. We're going to make it work."
Memories of last night's dinner party
are surging through Claire's mind as she nods.
"I should get back to his room,"
Sarah says.
"All right. I'll come by later to
see you. And I'll be praying."
"Thanks." Sarah turns and heads back
to Brent's room.
Claire pauses only a moment before
she makes her way over to one of the payphones across the room. She deposits
the coins and dials quickly, glancing back over her shoulder just to make
sure that Sarah hasn't returned.
I hope I'm doing the right thing,
she thinks as the phone begins to ring on the other end.
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