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After it’s all done, and we’re once again waiting, it’s only a short time until a nurse comes out to direct me to Cora.
“Wait, I know only I can stay, but can they say a quick prayer for her? It would mean so much. Two minutes and they’ll leave.” She begins to waver, and I instantly lie. “They’re all the family she has, and after the baby… please.” I’m ashamed to use that card, but I'll do anything to save Cora.
“Fine. In and out. You have five minutes, and I’m being generous. Please keep it down. There are others recovering as well.”
We follow the nurse out into the hall past the nurses’ station and enter the Critical Care Unit. There are drawn curtains all around, and we stop about halfway down the room. Pulling back the curtain quietly, the nurse ushers us in and does a quick check of the vital readouts from the machines. “Five minutes,” she warns as she departs.
“Alight, hurry up. I want to spend what time I have left with my wife,” I whisper to the lot.
“You’re letting him do the full balance, Drake? Why, we could have--” The blonde one drops his protest at the look Drake shoots him.
“There’s no time. We’re tied together; one goes down, we all go down. This is spreading it better, and if there’s a chance, there’s a chance. Just leave it.” Drake is already moving to the bag of blood hanging near Cora’s bed.
She’s so pale and banged up. The bruising from the wreck is written up and down her arms, telling part of the story of her trauma. Even her baby bump is still prominent enough to make me take a second look and reach out to touch it. It’s still there, but it’s not hard like it had been. Tears begin tracking down my cheeks again at the loss. That one and the two she still has to suffer when she awakes.
“I’m done. When she wakes, it won’t be long.” Drake directs the others out and follows behind them, pulling the curtain shut and leaving us in peace.
I spend a few minutes gaining my composure. I’m sure a sobbing spouse is commonplace here, but I don’t want to disturb anyone else that’s ill. Eventually, I lay my head gently on Cora’s chest, listening to the steady sound of her heart. We haven’t had as much time together as I’d hoped for, but this was a favorite way to lay with her when I had leave or she’d had a long enough break from school and the time off to come for a visit.
I remember meeting Cora at a high school buddy’s party right after boot camp. I’d had a few weeks of leave before I had to report back to Coronado, and there she’d been. Effervescent and gorgeous. I hadn’t known she was barely seventeen. I was only eighteen myself, having gone directly into the service out of high school. Not sure why I hadn’t met her before, I found out she was from the neighboring private school and was there that night with a friend. From the moment we laid eyes on each other, nothing else mattered. The entire world receded, becoming dim and drab in comparison. I’d taken her back to the apartment I was staying at until my official move, and that’s where we stayed the entire weekend.
That is until her step-brother tracked her down and dragged her out. That’s when I found out about Damien. They were no longer an item, but he didn’t seem to care, and neither did her parents. As far as they were concerned, he was her future. I reluctantly let her go, with her promise to call me.
I did talk to her a few times and tried to see her before I had to leave but never could meet up with her again. I tried to put her out of my mind after I got to California-- that was an exercise in futility. We began video chats, and she explained about Damien and all the drama about him and her family. She was still in highschool and had a part-time job at a local hardware store. We talked all the time, and as soon as I had my next three-day leave saved up, I flew to Washington again to see her.
That’s when she dropped the news that she was pregnant. She hadn’t wanted to tell me over the phone when she’d found out a few days prior. She was terrified to tell her family and worried about how Damien would react. She’d been correct, as a few weeks later when morning sickness set in and her mother insisted she go to the doctor after throwing up at school, she’d had to fess up.
Her parents had demanded to know if it was Damien’s, and when she said no and refused to abort, they kicked her out of the house. She’d had enough saved up that she was able to get into a low-income based housing for expectant teen mothers and had gotten emancipated a short time later with her parents’ blessing to get her out of their hair.
Damien didn’t go so smoothly. He’d flipped out and tracked her down after school one day, insisting the baby was his and that they were going to get married. He kept harassing her to the point she’d had to get a restraining order and even had an amniocentesis done to prove the baby was mine.
With all the issues, I'd been scared to propose, afraid she’d shoot me down. At least she did let me help with expenses, so she could finish out her senior year, and when I asked her to marry me over spring break when she came to visit me in California, she’d said yes.
Now I sit and rub the empty spot where I’d put her engagement ring that day not so long ago and the wedding band today, figuring they’d removed them for surgery. I softly begin to sing “You Are My Sunshine” to her, one of ‘our’ songs. I’d make her hold the phone up to her stomach, so I could sing to her and the baby for months now. When I’m finished, the nurse pulls back the curtain, coming in to check her vitals again.
“Umm, can you find her rings, please? And is there a locker or somewhere I can store my bag and her purse?” The nurse nods and leads me out to a hall with a bank of lockers.
On one is Cora’s information, and in it is an envelope with her rings in it. There’s just enough room for my duffel in the bottom and her purse on the shelf. I tuck her rings into her bag and shut the locker, spinning the dial to lock it.
I feel a pressure in my chest, this time more like someone sitting on it than from being emotional. That’s my cue, I bet. I use the bathroom before I go back into the room to sit with Cora. When I get back, the nurse is removing the empty blood bag and replacing it with saline.
“She’s doing quite well, considering. Keep talking to her, and if you need anything, think something is wrong, or she wakes up, hit the call button.” She shows me where the button is located on the bed rail and takes her leave.
A wave of dizziness hits me, and I slump heavily in the chair that’s positioned near Cora’s head. I take her hand in mine again, speaking quietly to her.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll have to go soon, but I so wish I could stay longer with you.” Positive I feel her fingers move, my eyes dart to her face. Her eyes are slitted, and she starts to moan softly. I can’t tell if she’s in pain, trying to talk, or both. “Hey, there. You’re going to be okay. Let me get the nurse.” I hit the button and take the opportunity while I’m waiting to kiss her lips, about the only place on her face not bruised, minus a small split from where the airbag hit, murmuring, “Love you.” My energy is waning, and I sit back against the chair, never taking my eyes off Cora’s.
“She’s awake?” the nurse asks, with a team of others following her in. I nod toward her, and they get to work, checking her over and testing responses.
They never notice when my eyes close, and I slump over. Cora does though. Her monitors start beeping as she tries to get their attention, voice cracking when she calls my name. No one has even told her that the baby is gone. I force my eyes open briefly and give her a wobbly smile. Somehow she understands, and her absolute panic is plain on her face.
