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A few more rooms down the hallway, I notice a woman lying in a hospital bed. “Leeah,” I say. But nobody is in her room. “What’s wrong with Leeah?” I ask.
“Are you family?” the nurse asks.
I shake my head and I feel like she can see the defeat in my eyes. “No. I’m not.” But the emotion begins welling up inside me. “All of these people… I know them.”
“Miscarriage,” Leeah says from her bed.
I look in at her. “I’m sorry?”
“I had a miscarriage,” she says again.
My heart sinks. Leeah had a miscarriage? That would explain the stomach problems she was always having. The heavy flows and the reason she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Holy shit,” I say. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Do you need anything?”
“You’re in no state to be offering help to others,” Mr. Momoa says. “Maybe we should get you back into your room.”
I look up at him. I want to agree, but I also need to know about the rest of them. I need to know what was wrong with the rest of them.
“What about Amanda? Geani? Tommy?” I ask, not holding back. “Where are they? I need to see them.”
“Who?” the nurse asks.
I repeat their names.
“We can’t give out patient information,” the nurse says. “That will get me fired.”
“I know that,” I say, my legs starting to go weak underneath me. “I know you can’t. And I wouldn’t ask you to do that. But can you at least take me to them? Can you take me to see them?”
The nurse shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”
I nod slowly. “Alright.”
“I think that’s enough for one evening,” Mr. Momoa says. “I think it’s time to get you back into your bed.”
My heart aches for everyone in my other life. They were all fighting battles I had no idea were real. We all were.
“Thank you,” I say as Mr. Momoa helps me back into my bed. I finally see his nametag. “Thank you, Aaron.”
“You’re very welcome, Dee,” he says with a toothy smile.
I turn the television back on and let the shows run in front of me while I let my mind race. I wonder what was wrong with Tommy. I want to know what happened to Geani. What happened to all of my friends.
“Hi,” a voice says in my doorway.
I jump at the sound of another voice after the ten minutes I just had of nothing but the low murmur of the television.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I look up at her, but I can’t get a good view of her face. The light behind her makes her profile appear dark. Like those photoshoots people do to give to their husbands as anniversary gifts. Normally wearing nothing, but unable to tell because of the light behind them.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask. “Are you looking for someone?”
She’s quiet for a second, but then steps in a bit closer. “I’m looking for you, actually,” she says.
When the light from the TV finally hits her face, I realize who is standing in my room.
“My name is Geani,” she says. “And I’m so glad you’re okay.” She puts a hand over her mouth and begins to cry. I reach for the remote and turn off the television.
