Kat hugs me and I breathe her in for a moment.
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” I whisper.
Kat nods and the nurse wordlessly guides her down the hallway through swinging doors marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” I watch her through glass panes in the doors as long as possible, until, finally, she and the nurse turn a corner and disappear.
With a deep sigh, I wander down the hall and take a seat in the waiting room. Shit. I feel like I’ve let Kat down somehow. When the nurse asked if I was family—if I’m her husband—should I have lied and said yes? I really don’t think I was imagining the pained look in Kat’s eyes when I said no. Why the fuck do I feel like I’ve somehow fucked up?
An older gentleman with a young woman and toddler are seated across from me in the waiting room. The trio’s got the exact same features—same eyes, noses, dark hair. They’re like generational Russian nesting dolls—even a casual onlooker would know instantly the three of them are family.
Family.
The nurse asked me if I’m Kat’s family and I said no.
I put my head in my hands.
I’ve got the distinct feeling I’ve fucked up somehow,but I’m not sure how.
Are you her family?Are you her husband?
I really don’t think I was imagining the look of utter disappointment on Kat’s face at that moment.
A tidal wave of loneliness rises up inside me—an all-too familiar emotion for me. My eyes water but I swallow hard and stuff it down like I always do. Fuck. This isn’t about me. This is about Colby and Kat and her family.
What I need to do is make myself useful, however I can.
I bow my head, close my eyes, and clasp my hands.
Dear Heavenly Father...
I take a deep breath.
Dear Heavenly Father...
I lift my head and open my eyes.
Fuck me.
The only prayer that’s coming into my mind is so full of motherfucking expletives, I can’t imagine it would help Colby at all.
Nine
Josh
For the past hour, Kat’s been in Colby’s hospital room with her family while I’ve been sitting out here in this waiting room, listening to “Hold Back the River” by James Bay on my phone, trying my damnedest not to cry or, worse, catch Spanish Influenza from the cocksucker who sat down two seats away from me in an almost-empty waiting room and proceeded to cough up his goddamned lung.
From what I’ve gathered, Typhoid Joe was deemed “too sick” to go into the room of whatever patient he came to visit in the hospital, but rather than go home and take some fucking Nyquil, he decided to sit two feet away from me and try to take me down with him. Motherfucker. Of course, I moved as far away from him as I could in the tiny room, but just the sound of his constant hacking is making me feel like I’m hurtling to my premature demise on a bullet train.
Or maybe I’m just losing my mind.
I pull my earphones out of my ears and, for the second time since sitting down in this waiting room, bow my head in prayer.Heavenly Father who art in heaven, please, I beg you, stop fucking with everyone I—
My phone buzzes with a text that makes me open my eyes.
It’s Jonas. “I CAN’T SLEEP!” he writes.
“Why, hello, Jonas,” I write, smiling at the screen. “Why can’t you sleep, bro? Could it be... SARAH?”
“YES!!!!! Today’s finally the day!!!!” he writes—and, of course, I know he’s referring to the fact that today he’s finally gonna take his “Magnificent Sarah” to the top of Mount Olympus, push the poor girl off the edge of it, and ask her to be his wife.
