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“He’s banged up, that’s for sure. I think besides the cuts and bruises, the real damage is those three teeth that came out. A good oral surgeon will fix that up and patch his jaw, too. We’ve got his lower mandible all bandaged up tight and pain meds on board while Doc Stacey heads in to take a look. She’s on call tonight, but I’m sure you know she’s a good ways away. That all goes to say, don’t expect him to chat with you. He can take sips through a straw, though, which is good news.”
She steps past me. “I’m sure he’s not happy with me, stripping him down like that and leaving him to wait. I’ll be back in a tick. Just hang tight.” She pats my shoulder as she passes, and then I’m alone, staring at a curtain.
“Parker?”
I feel sort of dumb, talking to a curtain.
But I also don’t want to intrude on him, so I keep my feet planted where they are.
The rustling sound on the other side and a muffled groan make me hopeful that he’s listening.
“I feel awful for not being around when all this went down,” I say, my voice wobbly. “I was worried sick, driving over here. I thought for sure you were being loaded into a helicopter or the back of another ambulance, heading for major brain surgery or something, and that maybe I’d never get to tell you—”
I take one step closer to the curtain. “Ihaveto tell you this. I know this is a bad time, with your jaw all wrapped up, and I’m sure you’re in a ton of pain—but I don’t think I can wait. We’re a match, Parker. You filled in those questions and did that interview with Mark, and they ran our numbers, and we’re compatible.Verycompatible.”
Behind me, the opening door makes a hushed sweeping sound against the linoleum floor.
The red-haired nurse bustles past me, a stack of gown and blanket in her arms. “ ’Scuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.” She slips behind the curtain.
I haven’t said everything I want to say yet.
I’m too eager to get it out to wait. So, I keep going. “I know it might sound stupid to you, me being so hung up on those scores. You’re so tuned into life, in general, but I’m not always and I needed those numbers. I know it’s probably way too early to talk about our future, but at least this lets me know that it’s there, if we want it… You know, a future. Together.”
My face is flushed, my voice is coming out tighter than I want it to. It’s hard to bare your soul to a curtain.
This room is stuffy and warm, and the muffled grunts and groans coming from the other side of the curtain are slightly distracting.
Is he in pain?
Did he fall out of bed?
Did the nurse turn her back and he’s choking on a sip of juice from some sweaty styrofoam cup?
This isn’t ideal, but I’m finally saying how I feel. To him, and to myself. And to this random nurse, but that’s okay. It’s good to be honest outloud.
“I love you. I really do,” I tell the curtain. “You said the ‘L’ word earlier today at that totally perfect fall festival. I guess I sort of freaked out, but it’s only because I thought our compatibility score was low. And yeah, I’m a dork and a statistics nerd, but that worried me. But now that I know our score is high, I feel good about using the ‘L’ word, because that’s definitely how I feel. I love you. I want to be with you, if you want to be with me. I’ve been happier this week than I have been in years. We’ll make the distance thing work. I’ll come here whenever I can… it’s not really that far, and I love it here. You make me laugh, and feel safe and loved and like every day is Christmas, basically.”
The curtain ripples. Then the nurse pokes her head around it. She frowns at me. “Well, he’s all dressed and ready to see you.”
“Thanks.”
She won’t quit frowning at me.
“Sorry you had to hear me get all gushy,” I tell her, as she starts to slide the curtain back. The hooks along the ceiling squeak in protest as they travel along the rusty track.
“No, that part’s fine. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with telling a man you love him. Aman. I don’t mean to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but this one here’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”
She drags the curtain another foot, and I get my first peek at the bed.
Ransom’s propped up on a pile of snow-white pillows, his head wrapped in layers of gauze equally as pristine.
He’s starry-eyed as he gazes across the room at me. Then he starts writing something on a whiteboard.
I just spilled my guts to a crooked-toothedkid.
He flips the board. His letters are blocky and big:‘I think I love you, too, Ms. Lafferty.’
Behind me, I hear a deep chuckle. The laughter’s warm, and the sound resonates through me.
