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Tom promised me.
“Amy…”
He tries to put an arm around my shoulders but I push him away, passing through curtains into another ER-patient space.
Two hospital beds, sharing a single area. A heavyset Hispanic nurse, looking up at an electronic display overhead.
Debris on the floor: crumpled papers, bloody bandages, latex gloves, lengths of tubing.
On one bed is my Tom.
On the other is my Denise.
I raise my hands to my face.
Denise is sitting up, smiling, sipping from a juice box. “Mommy!”
Tom is sitting up as well. Grinning with some shame and embarrassment, he says, “Honey, I can explain—honest.”
Chapter125
I SLOWLYlower my hands.
Seeing what’sreallythere:
The nurse, quietly going through her paces.
My Denise, on the bed, lying still.
Tom on his bed, also lying still.
My beloveds are dead.
I walk forward, feeling like a shell, not feeling human, simply not feeling.
I just know it’s not right.
There are scratches on Denise’s left cheek. Her perfect blond hair is tangled. A light-blue bedsheet and blanket are drawn up to her neck.
Her chest doesn’t rise or fall.
The color of her flawless skin is gray.
And my Tom…
His eyes are closed as well.
A deep bloody abrasion on his chin.
My beloveds.
I failed.
I step around and the nurse finally spots me. “I’m sorry, you can’t be here.”
“Yes, yes, I can,” I say, going to Denise’s bed, stroking her hair, my fingers touching her cold cheek. “This is my family.”
“Oh,” the nurse says. “I’m so sorry.”
