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Jay shrugs. “Some of us have faith; others have regrets.”
“What if you have neither?” I ask, looking at him sideways.
“I guess you have to figure that one out for yourself,” he admits.
We watch a couple of ambulances drive up. We’re quiet, taking a sip from our coffees.
“I never want to let her go,” I say, pulling my hoodie back.
“Then don’t,” he tells me, smoking his cigarette.
I stand, the bile rising in my throat again. I can’t show weakness; I need to be strong for her, for them. I can’t break. She needs me to hold it together. The ‘fuck everyone and everything’ attitude takes hold of me. I need a fix, need a hit.
“What kind of answer is that?” I yell. “I’m so fucking mad I could kill someone. You know what it feels like? You know what I could do?”
He nods, watching me pace the small area. I lean against the cold railing. “For once in my life something made sense and now …” I stumble over my words and my shoulders shake. I throw the coffee on the ground, hiding my face in my hands. Jay’s arms come around my body, holding me. I bury my head in his chest and cry like I’ve never cried before.
“Talk to her. Don’t shut her out. She needs to know your fears. She needs to know your pain,” he says, his voice breaking.
“I don’t know if I can,” I answer, taking a deep breath and wiping away my tears.
“You need to, or else you’ve already lost her.” He taps my chest with his finger. “I’m going to check on her.”
“Thanks, Jay,” I rasp.
“For what?”
“For letting me love her.”
He kisses the top of my head and walks back into the hospital.
“Fuck!” I yell, slumping against the railing and crying my heart out, while the last couple of weeks I spent with her flash through my mind.
