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“I’m sorry, ma’am. I apologize for any inconvenience—”
“Is this a joke?” I laugh humorlessly, maniacally. “You apologize for the inconvenience?” My body trembles as the weight of the past couple of days slams into me, and desperation quickly takes over. “You don’t understand. You have to let me in there. Please,” I beg, banging my fist against the door. There is no response, and I pound my fist on the door again before fruitlessly jiggling the handle. Every emotion that has been building inside of me boils over. My throat constricts, making it hard to breathe. “Please let me in. There are so many things—” My words break off into a sob and I swipe at the tears that now run down my face. “I swear I won’t get in the way. I’ll be quick for tonight, but I have to see him.” My words are rushed—desperate. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I have to see him now.”
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Spinning around, I thread my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out a way to get in. Oh God. What do I do? I have to get in there. What if he … what if I don’t get …
No. I shake my head, refusing to let myself go there.
Turning around, I face the door. It’s killing me, knowing that Devin is somewhere on the other side of this wall. I lift my hands, placing them flat against the treated wood. “Please,” I whisper. Something inside of me breaks and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing another wave of tears down my face. A broken cry rips from my chest, and my shoulders heave as I fight to suck in air.
Why is this happening?
Hasn’t he been through enough?
Haven’t I been through enough?
Devin is finally within reach—for good—and I can’t even touch him. He’s in one of those cold, sterile rooms, hooked up to God knows what, and I’m not in there with him. I should be in there. Curling my fingers inward, I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, making a fist, and then pound furiously against the one thing separating me from him.
I have no idea how long I bang on the door, determined to get someone’s attention, but no one walks by or offers to help, and eventually anger and determination overshadow my pain. Dropping my arms, I step back from the door, remembering something Devin once said to me. “Strength comes from within. We make ourselves strong, Katie, and right now I need you to dig deep and find your strength. And when you find it, I need you to hold on to it. I don’t care how many times you want to give up and let go, you hold on to that strength and you fight.”
A shiver runs through me as though he physically just whispered those words in my ear. Pushing past the sadness, exhaustion and pain, I dig deep, finding that strength he was talking about. Straightening my back, I step up to the intercom and push the button again.
“May I help you?” It’s the same woman from before. I cringe, knowing I’m not going to get anywhere but determined to at least try.
“I am not leaving.” My words come out firm and strong, the complete opposite of how I’m feeling on the inside. The tears sit just behind the eyes, waiting to erupt again, waiting to pour down my trembling cheeks. “I will stand outside this door and push that annoying little button until someone lets me in there.”
“Ma’am, listen—”
“No, you listen,” I demand, pointing my finger at the speaker as though it’s her face. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. I’m crabby, I’m tired and I’m scared to death because the man I love is in one of those rooms fighting for his life, and you won’t let me see him.” Adrenaline is flowing through my body, and I run a trembling hand down the front of my shirt. The desire to see him, to feel him, surpasses any weakness in my legs. It puts the breath back in my lungs. It quells the tears that want to fall. “Devin is mine,” I proclaim, fisting my hand over my heart. The truth and potency of that statement seeps through my veins, warming me from the inside out. I know that if Devin were standing here right now, he would be proud as hell. “He. Is. Mine. And if you think for one second that I’m going to walk away now because you say visiting hours are over, well then, you’ve got another thing coming.”
The handle on the door shifts and I step back, eyes wide, thankful that someone is giving me the time of day. The door cracks open and a short, plump, older woman steps into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind her.
“Ma’am—”
“Katie,” I interject. “Please call me Katie.”
“Katie, I understand that you want to see your loved one, but as I stated earlier, visiting hours are over. We have strict visiting hours for very specific reasons, and I know how frustrating it is, but you cannot stand out here acting like this. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to call security.” Without so much as a second glance, she turns away, shutting the door quietly in my face.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pacing across the hall. Every ounce of strength I had managed to muster shatters. My head spins and I reach out, steadying myself against the wall. I’m completely numb—my heart, my brain, my body … all of it is numb. Pure and utter exhaustion takes over. Pressing my back against the wall, I slide down until my butt hits the cool tile. I bend my knees, wrap my arms around my legs and pull them in close. “I’m here, Devin,” I whisper, burying my face in my arms.
A tight band constricts around my chest, and this time when the tears fall, there is no warning. They simply fall, and I let them. My heart is telling me to get my ass up and find a way to get to him, but my head is having no part of it. The last thing I need is to get hauled out of here by security.
“Miss?”
My body jerks when a hand lands on my shoulder, but I don’t look up. I can’t. “I’m good,” I mumble, a sob crawling up my throat because I’m anything but good. “That’s a lie.” I sniff, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m not good. I’m miserable. I have no idea if Devin is okay.” My voice cracks when I say his name out loud. “They tell me he’s alive,” I cry, “but that’s all I know, and all I want to do is go in there and … I want t-to tell him that I l-love him and that he has to s-stay strong. I need to t-tell him th-thank you for saving me and for”—I suck in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the amount of things I need to tell him—“loving me. I don’t know what I’ll do if h-he doesn’t make it.” Blowing out a slow breath, I pinch my lips together. My chin is trembling so much that it physically hurts, and I wonder if anyone would mind if I just curled up into the fetal position right here on the floor. “I won’t sur-survive without him. I know I won’t.” I shake my head, batting away the tears, still staring at the floor between my legs. “He has to be okay. He just has to…” I keep rambling because it feels good to get this all out, but I have absolutely no idea if the woman is still there or if she really did go to get security.
Lifting my head a fraction, I peek up through spiked lashes and come face-to-face with a young woman. “I don’t know what to say.” Flopping down next to me, she leans her head against the wall. “He sounds like one lucky man to have you.”
Clearing my throat, I straighten my legs to mimic her position. I can’t even imagine how horrible I look. My eyes feel puffy and swollen, and I’m sure they’re about as red as can be. My make-up from two days ago is long gone and m
y hair is nothing short of a rat’s nest, but the woman is watching me with open curiosity and unbridled compassion. And right now, that’s something I could use a little bit of. “I’m the lucky one,” I tell her. “He’s my world and I’d do anything for him.”
“And by him, you’re referring to someone over there, I assume.” She points her hand toward the ICU and I nod. “I see. I’m guessing that you got here after visiting hours.” I nod again. “When was the last time you’ve seen—?”
“Devin,” I answer with a watery smile. “His name is Sergeant Devin Clay, and I haven’t seen him in forty-three days, eighteen hours and”—I glance down at my watch—“thirty-three minutes.”
“But who’s counting?” She laughs and pushes up from the floor. I notice for the first time that she’s wearing a pair of blue surgical scrubs much like the older woman from earlier. She holds out her hand and I stare at it like it’s a foreign object. “Would you like to go see Devin?”
I scramble up off the floor. “You can do that?” I ask, pressing a hand to her arm.
