Page 67 of Lying Hearts
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Annie
Patience: none. Hair: still damp, in a ponytail. When: an hour ago.
Entering the Emergency Room, I’m all cleaned up and ready to be at Brendan’s side when he wakes up.
A nurse of Indian descent glances up from her paperwork and straightens in her chair, wearily sizing me up. “Can I help you?”
Calm down, Annie. He’s okay. You’ll see him soon. “Hi. Yes. Can you please tell me which room Brendan Clark is in?”
She looks to her computer screen and clicks on the keyboard, squinting slightly, which tells me she might need glasses but is avoiding getting them or maybe has left them at home. The observation is something to fixate on. If I don’t use it, I’ll go crazy waiting for her to find him. It’s taking a lot for me not to launch myself through the window and look him up myself, and she’s not even moving slow.
Without looking up, she asks, “Clark?”
“Yes. Brendan Clark. He came in last night. Gunshot wound?” I don’t know if that last detail will help her, but it might.
She discovers his name and sits upright again. I prepare myself for the worst. She’s looking at me like she’s about to say something I don’t want to hear. Visions of him dying on the surgery bed while I was in the shower stab me.
“He’s in room 323… but visiting hours aren’t until three o’clock, so you’ll –”
“Visiting hours? Is that all?” I smile reassuringly like it’s no big deal. “I’ll come back. No biggie. But…” I look from left to right with my finger pointing toward nowhere and everywhere. “I really need to use the bathroom. That time of the month, you know how it is.” I roll my eyes at the cross we all have to bear, and smile again, my eyebrows up and pleasant. “Which way is it?”
She clocks me, scanning my face to see if I’m full of shit or not. Still unsure, she rises out of her chair, leaning out the little window to guide me with the point of her green-polished fingernail. “It’s down that hall, first door on your right.”
“Thanks so much. Love your nail polish.”
Her hand flies up to be inspected and admired. “Oh, thanks! I wasn’t sure about this color, but I think it’s fun.”
“It is. It’s so great. Okay – have a good day!” I tap the counter, a bar habit.
“You too!”
Distract them with flattery, I hum to my inner impatience and step away to leave her to her paperwork. Behind me is the waiting room and the sight of it unexpectedly disarms me. It looks like a room full of seated zombies, complete with exposed, gaping wounds. The TV’s on silent, but pale and tired people stare at it like I did, desperately needing the distraction. I guess I looked like this.
I scan for Doug, but he’s not among the faces. Is he with his wife? Did he go home? Did she? Will I never know what happened? It’s so strange how someone can come into your life, have an impact, and then never be seen again. I silently send a prayer up that they’re okay, that she survived the stroke somehow. That she isn’t in pain. That she isn’t paralyzed.
I have to see Brendan and I have to see him now. My blood picks up speed. The green-nailed nurse’s head is down in her paperwork again and I don’t want her watching me, so I slip past quietly. My rubber-soled sneakers make it easy to slip right past the unisex bathroom without drawing attention to the fact that I’m not going in.
From the second I turned the key and walked into my apartment, all I wanted to do was get back here. I have never showered so fast in my life. I couldn’t even bring myself to take the time necessary to dry my hair, and as I raced to put on clothes, I repeated the mantra, look your best. He deserves that after what he did for you, so that I could focus on something that would ease my heart.
Slamming the elevator button repeatedly, I whisper to it, “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon!!!” The loud ding almost gives me a heart attack and I leap through the doors before they have a chance to fully open. I don’t know if a nurse would be so cruel as to chase me down for sneaking up to his room, so I furiously hit the button before she catches me – just in case.
The doors shut and I exhale, leaning against the wall with the bar pressing into my back. A sliver away from freedom, a hand reaches in. I stare at it – a man’s hand – and the desire to jump forward, hit the button, and cut the damned hand right off, is pushed down and pushed down hard. I have to see his face, at least once. I can sit in the room with him until someone finds me breaking the rules, for hopefully all day and all night. I’ll do my best to make that happen.
A man in a lab coat steps in. He’s about thirty-five or so, wearing glasses and a pleasant smile. “Hi.”
Smile or no, he is the enemy.
I nod curtly and suck on my lips. He reaches to press a button. I’m staring at his finger. Please don’t push ‘3.’
His fingers hover for a second as he checks his phone. Please don’t push ‘3.’ Please don’t push ‘3.’ He pushes ‘4,’ and steps back to wait. Good. I’m getting closer to the goal. We both stare at the rising numbers lighting up. I’m successfully appearing calm, like I belong here. He looks over. “You here to see a relative?”
I point to my ears, and shake my head.
His awkward smile is instantly apologetic. “Oh, you’re deaf. Sorry. I don’t speak sign language.”
I stare at him like I still don’t understand and he looks away, unsure of what to say. I’ve distracted him with this. I’m beginning to believe that, like a stealth ninja, I will successfully sneak into Brendan’s room. The third floor lights up and angels start singing, Run, Annie, run!