Chapter 33
She’s Got it All
Cash
I’m wearing paper clothes in a sticky plastic chair in a waiting room that smells like disinfectant and fear, and I have never been so relieved in my entire life. The doctor’s assurance that, for now, Callie is okay grants me the ability to take a full breath for the first time in hours, since the firepit. Sitting there, looking up at the stars, seems like a lifetime ago.
After a short lecture that he isn’t supposed to tell us about her condition, he gives us the bare minimum. Her parents are dead, her husband is also dead. As far as we know, there isn’t anyone else. No one but us.
So, for now, she’s alive. She had surgery but she’s alive. She isn’t out of the woods yet, and she hasn’t woken up. But she’s alive. And, in thirty-four years, no words have ever made me happier than those.
“Y’all can sit with her if you want,” the nurse behind the desk tells us once visiting hours start.
“Thanks.” I smile at her, and she blushes. My phonevibrates in my pocket and pulling it out, I see it’s a call from Lizzie.
“Hey, Aunt Lizzie,” I answer.
“Oh God, Cash? Thank God. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I can hear the tiredness, the weariness, in my voice.
“What happened at Callie’s house? Of course, nobody will tell us anything, but they called Vickie and Pete, you know. And they told me she was taken in an ambulance. And the police—” I look at Duke as he eyes me from his seat. Lizzie just goes on and on about what she heard but I don’t have the energy or desire to entertain the gossiping hoards today.
Duke holds out his hand, so I give him the phone.
“Lizzie?” he interrupts her. “We are at the hospital.” Pause. “Yes, everyone is alive.” Pause. “Yes, both of us.” Pause. “Okay, we will call you later.” Hanging up, he hands me my phone back.
“Thank you,” I tell him, full of gratitude.
“Let’s go see our girl.” Suddenly, the last two months don’t matter anymore. The nights spent crying, the women I used to hide my pain, the drinks. None of it matters. All that matters is that the girl we love is hurt and dammit, she deserves to know she’s worth it.
I sit on one side of the bed and Duke sits on the other. We both hold a small, cold hand. She’s pale, a shadow of a bruise on her jaw, a less shadowy one on her cheek. There’s a ring of livid purple bruising around her throat. The IV snaking around her gives her antibiotics and fluids. All the blood has been washed from her flesh but her pale color looks like she could use some more in her body.
She has a new tattoo covering her entire arm. Duke and I studied it closely as we sat, and we cried as we each found ourselves in the pictures. The storm cloud and the whiskeytumbler are Duke. The bull and the little creek are me. She chronicled her journey to us and our journey together in bright colors and it made us both a little sadder knowing no matter how hurt we were, she was just as hurt. We had each other, but we left her alone.
We can’t change anything about the last two months, but in this hospital room, we pray for her safety and beg God for the chance to prove to her that we deserve her, even if we have to do it side by side, shoulder to shoulder. She feels worth it. The same thing I told Duke all those months ago when I talked about Callie, before I knew everything.
She feels worth it.
We sit vigil by her bed, only moving to use the attached restroom before returning to grab her hand. We talk to her, we tell her how sorry we are, what idiots we are, and how lucky we are to have her, any part of her. The nurses bring us water and snacks, giving us pitying or curious looks, depending.
When visiting hours are over, an older, matronly nurse comes to us to say it’s time to go.
“Can we sit in the waiting room?” I ask her.
“No, you’ll have to leave and come back tomorrow. We will take care of her.”
“Just a few more minutes, please,” Duke requests.
“Fifteen more minutes gentlemen, but that’s it. Rest and quiet is important for healing. You can come back at eight o’clock tomorrow.”
After she leaves, we say our goodbyes.
“Goodnight baby, I want you to wake up, okay? Can you wait until we get back though? I want to be here; I don’t want you to be alone anymore,” I whisper to her, leaning in and kissing her brow.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Duke kisses her other brow, moving a few strands of hair away from her face. “Don’tworry about us out here. Sleep as long as you need. We will be here.” He whispers something inaudible in her ear and when he stands back up, tears fill his eyes, but they don’t spill over.
Walking out of the hospital to Duke’s truck, I realize I have no idea how to navigate this. What do we say? What do we do?
