Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
And reality hits me with the force of a rainstorm.
My life, no matter how precarious it may seem now, would be even more unbearable without Tabitha in it. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges I have to face, I want to face them with her by my side.
I drift in and out of sleep.
Nurses come and go. My doctor comes. Mom and Dad. Sage and Dave.
I love my family, but the woman I want to see doesn’t show her face.
Has Mom called her? I thought someone said she did.
“I did,” Mom says when I ask, “but she didn’t pick up.”
“Did you leave a voicemail?”
“I asked her to call me. I didn’t want to tell her you were in the hospital over a message. I didn’t want to worry her.”
Right. I get it. I guess.
I fall asleep again.
Nine
Tabitha
Class ends at eleven. That’s it for the day, but after today, we’ll have lectures in the morning and labs in the afternoons. Five days a week for all of August. Then the fall semester will begin.
A lot of work, but I have enough in loans to cover my rent without finding a temp job.
God, the loans…
I’m going to be knee-deep in debt by the time I actually get to cut into a real patient.
“Lunch?”
I turn to see Eli.
“Yeah. Sure.” I grab my phone. “Hmm. I have a missed call. I don’t recognize the number, but they left a voicemail.”
I tap the icon to listen to the message, holding the phone up to my ear. It’s a woman’s voice.
“Tabitha, it’s Marjorie Simpson. Could you give me a call, please?”
A shiver of unease runs through me. Why is Henry’s mother calling me? She sounded…concerned. Not all bubbly and happy like she usually is.
“Hey, are you okay?” Eli’s concerned gaze brings me back to reality.
I try to clear the sudden fog of worry. “It’s Angie’s mom. That’s who called me.”
“What’s she calling you for?” His eyes widen. “You don’t think something happened to Angie or Jason, do you?”
“I don’t know.” I bite my lip. “She didn’t say. But she didn’t sound normal.”
“I think you should call her back,” Eli says.
“Yeah,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, I should.”
I quickly dial the number Marjorie left, my heart pounding in my chest as the line begins to ring. After a couple of rings, she answers.
“Tabitha, dear. Thank you for calling back so quickly.”
Her voice is different from the one I remember. It’s strained, as if she’s forcing herself to keep calm. Anxiety knots in my stomach.
“Of course, Mrs. Simpson. Is everything okay?” She told me over the weekend to call her Marj, but it doesn’t seem right at this moment.
She takes a deep breath, and for a minute, there’s only silence on the other end of the line. Then, “It’s Henry. He… He had an accident.”
My heart stops.
The world spins around me. Henry? An accident? Everything blurs.
Finally, I find my voice. “What? What happened?”
“He was checking the construction on his place yesterday morning, and a beam fell on him. It was pure providence that he survived. His dog, Zach, was with him, and he ran over to our house. We knew something was wrong. Henry had to have emergency surgery, but he’s awake now.” Her voice breaks.
I hear pain in her words. I can almost see the worry on her pretty face.
I press a hand to my forehead and pace to the far edge of the student lounge, away from Eli and the handful of others hovering by the vending machines. The room smells like lemon floor cleaner. Posters for anatomy review sessions curl at the corners on the bulletin board. Everything looks so normal that the word surgery feels like it belongs on another planet, except that I’m here to study surgery.
But this is real surgery.
Surgery on Henry.
“How… How bad was it?” I ask, even though she’s already told me the answer by saying emergency and awake now in the same breath.
“They relieved the pressure,” she says. “A small epidural hematoma and a fracture along the temporal bone. He’s lucky. Thank God for Zach. Henry’s prognosis is excellent. The doctor said minutes mattered.”
Minutes.
The last time I saw Henry, minutes didn’t matter. I made them not matter. I left him. Left him to pursue this opportunity. This seminar. And he didn’t want me. He wasn’t ready. Maybe I wasn’t ready either. But he’s the one who made the decision. The one who said we had no future.
And now his mother calls me about his accident.
Why would she call me?
Angie asked me some questions about Henry over the weekend, but no one else had a clue what was going on. At least I don’t think anyone did.
Which means…
“He’s been asking for you,” Marjorie says softly. “He fell asleep and woke up and asked again. I thought… I thought you should hear it from me.”