Holding On

When someone you know is sent to the hospital, you usually find out once they are there. The hospital calls you and you come running, or driving. You don’t think of anything other than whether or not that person will make it, will be able to make their way out of that building. But, I didn’t find out this way, I wasn’t called. I was left to find out on my own.

I was sitting on the plush brown couch in my room watching the morning news while eating cereal. The Breaking News came on and I took it as my cue to go rinse my bowl and continue getting ready for school. When I got back up to my room, my TV was still on. The news anchors were discussing the morning traffic as I walked toward my closet to pick out something to wear. My cell phone began to ring and I skipped over to it expecting it to be my boyfriend.

“Hey!” I said, cheerily drawing out the word.

“Natalie?” It was my best friend, Emma, but something was off. “Have you heard?” she asked, her voice strained, almost as if she were holding back tears. Clueless as to what was up, I answered,

“About…?”

“Aaron Cooke,” the TV answered me. I lowered the phone from my ear. “Was on his way home from a friend’s house last night when a drunk driver ran a red light, crashing into Aaron’s side of the car. The driver, Joshua Bennet is in Stable Condition at Northern Arvada Hospital. Aaron Cooke took the extent of the injury and is in Critical Condition in NAH. We’ll keep you posted on his condition and we wish the best to him and his family. In other news…”

“Natalie!” Emma yelled. I put the phone back up to my ear, but was able to hear Emma’s crying without doing so.

“Holy crap,” I said, cussing for the first time in my life. My cell dropped to the floor as I hurriedly put on the closest pair of jeans, grabbed my car keys and put on my flip-flops. I ran out of my room, down the stairs and out the front door to my car, ignoring my families’ questions. I put the keys into the ignition and made my way to the hospital, all the while waiting for the tears to come.

When I got to the hospital I was directed to the third floor. The receptionist at the desk was talking with a visitor, so I waited patiently, as patiently as I could,

“I’m here to visit Aaron Cooke,” I said to her once it was my turn.

“Name?”

“Natalie McKaphlin.”

“Relationship?” she asked never looking up from her computer.

“I’m his g-girlfriend,” I said starting to stutter and the tears made their grand appearance.

“We can’t let you in to see him until the parents have gotten here, but we’ve been unable to get a hold of them. You’re welcome to stay until they get here,” she said as if staying was the greatest privilege.

“Is he… is he going to m-make it?” I sobbed.

“Wait until the parent’s get here.” With that I was dismissed. I went tot go sit in the waiting room where I broke down into uncontrollable sobs. He had to make it he just had to. I couldn’t live without him.