Page 10 of Jesse's Girl
“About what?”
“You do look like John Lennon.”
I puff out a quiet laugh.
She pats my back and arms. “But like, buff John Lennon.”
“Minus the drugs?” I deadpan, pulling back.
“Yeah,” she chuckles. “She’s the one on drugs, here.”
We both laugh—the kind of relieved laughter you only allow yourself once a major threat has passed.
She wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand, then checks her phone. “Listen,” she starts quietly, shooting a guilty look up at me. “Now that you’re here?—”
I cut her off with a nod. “You go.”
She exhales. “I’m so sorry. I can stay if you need me to. I’m just… I’ve barely eaten or slept in twenty-four hours and the kids?—”
“Claire. Go home. I’ve got this now.”
“Really? You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Just text me when you get home safe. You okay to drive?” She’s got an hour on the road to get back to Seattle.
“Yeah, I’ll grab a coffee on the way out.” She wells up again. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” I squeeze her arm. “Now get going.”
“You’re a good egg.” She squishes my cheeks with both hands, and I attempt a smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll call you.”
I wave her off.
When I pull the curtain to join Mom again, she’s snoring. Not knowing what else to do, I quietly move a chair to her bedside and settle in for a long wait.
I must drift off sitting up, because a glance at the clock when I next lift my head reveals at least forty minutes have passed since I sat down. With effort, I fight off the vestiges of sleep and rub my face in an attempt to wake up. My head feels underwater.
Katie appears at the curtain and does the hand sanitizer routine, smiling softly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, my voice rough.
Katie’s gaze lifts to the clock on the wall. “You know, she’ll probably sleep through the night at this point.”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about visiting hours. I just…”
Katie waves me off. “There aren’t any visiting hours in the ICU. You can be here as much as you want to. Or need to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Although I wouldn’t recommend staying all night. You flew in from Australia?”
“Yeah. Brisbane.”
“Get any sleep on the plane? It’s… what, a fifteen hour flight?”
“Seventeen. And not really,” I admit.
Her jaw drops. “You must be exhausted.”