Distance

I hate hospitals. They're so deceivingly clean and shiny, lulling you into a false sense of security just in time for the doctor to whisk out of the operating room and shatter your entire world with two words.

Just two words. All I needed was two little words. "She's okay." or, "She's fine." or even, "She's not dead."

Okay, so that last one was three words. But still. That's all I needed to hear to make the painful throbbing of my heart stop for a moment so I could think straight and stop seeing her pale face underneath me.

She'd been so calm, like she'd expected it. How could she be so calm? How? I wasn't even sick, and I could barely force myself to breathe. I was so afraid. I was shaking. I hadn't even had the presence of mind to call her parents, or Mike, or even Tre. I needed someone here with me, to hold my hand, to soothe my jittery nerves.

But the only person who'd ever been successful at that had been whipped away into an examining room, and then into the E.R. for surgery.

I wish I could have understood the medical jargon that had flown from their mouths. The nurses had barely glanced at me as they'd ripped the only woman I'd ever truly loved from my arms to lay her, naked and shivering, on a stretcher, with ice bags pressed against her already frozen skin, trying to cool the fever that raged inside of her.

A sob escaped from my mouth and I dropped into a chair, tapping my foot nervously against the tile, beating a nervous tattoo while fragmented thoughts chased each other through my mind. My lips moved soundlessly, pleading with the gods I didn't believe in, begging them to let me keep her with me.

"Sir?"

I turned my head so fast that my neck cracked. Rubbing it, I stared at the white-garbed doctor standing before me. He was young, barely older than me, and his eyes were wide. He must be new, fresh out of college, yet he was experianced enough to hide his emotions. His voice betrayed nothing.

He took a step back as I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping over my sneakers and sprawling on that sprakling white floor in my haste to wring his hand.

"How is she?" I demanded breathlessly, skipping over any possible questions about my relationship to her.

The young doctor bit his lip.

I could feel the blood draining from my face. I gripped his hand tightly, blinking back tears.

"Your friend has...a rare disease. We haven't been able to diagnose it."
"What?" I nearly screamed. He took a step back, but I refused to relinquish my hold on his hand.
"The only symptom we have is a fever. There's nothing else."
"Then why did she go into surgery?"
"She was born with a heart murmur, and had surgery before. We thought maybe there was an internal infection, and proceeded with exploratory surgery, but we found nothing."

I collapsed into a chair, hands over my face.

"However, the fever broke, and she's recovering nicely." His eyes were sympathetic.
"Can I see her?" I asked eagerly, but the young doctor shook his head.
"She's sleeping. We gave her a mild sedative to calm her down. She was delusional, screaming. She'll wake up completely refreshed."
"Oh."

I nearly cried from disappointment. The young doctor put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"How about you and me go get something to eat?"