A dull pain radiates through my chest, starting below my right shoulder. I try to piece together the cause of the pain, to stitch the fragments of my memory into a simple quilt. But instead of a quilt of clear recognizable patterns, I’m looking at it through a steamed-up window, and nothing about the image makes sense.
I let my eyelids flutter open and slowly blink the world into focus. The light in the room is dim, but it’s bright enough for me to make out I’m in a hospital room.
I’m not alone.
Troy is sitting in a chair that doesn’t seem all that comfortable for his tall muscular frame. But it must be comfortable enough for him to fall asleep in. One hand props his head up, his elbow on the armrest. The other hand, warm and strong, holds mine. I don’t dare move and break this connection between us. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed having my hand safe in his.
“How are you doin’, love?” a woman asks from the head of the bed, her volume a few notches above a murmur.
I turn my head in her direction. She’s my age and wearing cartoon-cat scrubs. Her hair is pulled back in a braid.
“Tired,” I whisper, unable to talk much louder than that, my mouth drought dry. “What happened?”
“You were shot in the chest. That’s all I know.” Something about the way she’s looking at me—something beyond the sympathy etched on her face—tells me she knows a lot more than she’s letting on.
Shot?
Why? When?
I reach across my body with my free hand. My fingertips brush my hospital gown and the bandages underneath it. Bandages that cover my shoulder and chest.
“How’s the pain?”
“It’s fine.” It’s no worse than the pain I’ve had to deal with in the past, though that’s partly due to the meds they’ve no doubt given me. I’m sure the pain would be a lot worse without them.
She glances at Troy and smiles, revealing straight white teeth. “You’ve got yourself a really fine boyfriend in that one.” She nods at him.
“He’s not…he’s just a friend.” I’m not sure what to call Troy. Other than when he brought Nolan, Mason, and Jared to my house after the festival, I haven’t seen or spoken to him in over a month.
“It wouldn’t hurt to be honest with him and tell him what you’ve told me. That would be a start.”Robyn’s words from our last appointment echo in my head.
“Well, your friend is very sweet. He’s been here practically the entire time. I wish my boyfriend was that attentive.” She releases a dreamy sigh. “Is there anything you need? Water?”
“Water, please.” There are lots of things I need, but other than water, there’s not much she can do about them.
“Alright. I’ll be right back. And then I’ll let you rest, love.” She pats my arm. “The physician will be around later to check on you.”
“Thank you.”
She quietly leaves the room. Troy keeps sleeping.
A few memories leak in of being in a concrete room. Of thinking I would never see him again. Of tapping on the cold floor, secretly telling him I love him.
I tap with my thumb the three Morse code letters on his hand, soft enough not to wake him, and keep tapping them.
Despite what the nurse might think, Troy isn’t my boyfriend. But for a few minutes, while he sleeps, I pretend he is.
67
TROY
October, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I waketo a hospital room that is brighter than when I let my eyelids drift shut. I have no idea what time it is or how long I’ve been sleeping. The only thing I do know is that it’s Friday. And Jess has been unconscious for the past four days.
Except…she isn’t unconscious now.
