by Julie Solano
Feeling grateful, I bow my head. “Thanks, Sarah. I owe you one.”
“I know. You can pay me back by getting over there and showing that pretty, little girl of yours some love. I’m a sucker for hospital romance. Now go.” She tilts her head toward Peyton’s bed, urging me to make use of my limited time.
As I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, I stand up to make my way to Peyton. The fear of seeing her up close for the first time since the accident is terrifying. I’m a nervous wreck. I already lost the entire contents of my stomach just glancing at her from across the dimly lit room. What makes me think that I’ll be able to endure the sight of her up close? I’ve got to do this, and I don’t have much time. Get over there, Caden. Now. I convince myself to shuffle my feet across the floor. Left. Right. Left. Right.
I’m slow in my movement, but I’m doing the best I can to fight the combination of nausea, painkillers, and straight up fear. My pulse quickens as I zero in on the floor beneath the bed. When my thighs are nearly touching it, I shakily grab onto the cold metal rail and work up the courage to look up. Painstakingly, I force myself to find her closed eyes.
Thump. In one big free-fall, my heart nearly drops out of my chest. My lungs deflate instantly at the horrifying sight. My entire body crumbles from the inside out. A slight whimper escapes my trembling body. I can’t stop shuddering. Get it together, Caden. The shaking is so bad, I’m pretty sure the tremors might register on the Richter scale. My anxious nerves slap and splash at the residual bile that has tried so desperately to settle in my stomach. I’m glad it’s empty, or I could lose it all over again.
Looking down at Peyton’s motionless body is horrifying. Tears well up and beat at the back of my eyes. She is barely recognizable. Her face is pale and bloated. Her blackened eyes are nearly swollen shut. Traces of iodine line the turban of white bandages that form a band around her swollen head.
My God. This is worse than I imagined. I want to erase the horrifying image I see lying before me. Is this the same girl who stole my heart with her contagious smile? There’s a small resemblance. It has to be her. I move closer to the bed so I can get a better look. I need to see if there’s any recognizable piece of her lying in the wreckage before me, to discern even one of her beautiful features. I know they are hiding somewhere beneath her swollen black eyes and pale, puffy cheeks.
She’s too lifeless. Buried beneath the mound of blankets, I can’t see the rise and fall of her chest. It sends a wave of panic through me. Careful not to tangle myself in the IV line and monitors, I wiggle my way through the maze of tubes and machines. I have to touch her. I need to feel her heart beating. I need to feel the breath coming from her soft, pink lips. Leaning in slowly, I allow my cheek to delicately graze the tip of her nose and mouth. At the same time, I gently set my hand on top of her heart.
For the briefest instant, I can’t feel it beat. It’s at that precise moment that a fierce spike of adrenaline rushes through me. I envision myself weeping at her graveside. I can’t handle the thought of her lifeless body, surrounded by the silk, padded lining of that box. I can’t live in a world where her heart doesn’t beat. Wake up, Peyton. Wake up. I pray over and over, leaving my hand on her chest, wishing it to jumpstart her back to life. Pressing a little harder, I concentrate on the stillness of her body beneath my fingertips. And then I feel it. A tiny thump.
The monitor above her head, sounds a tiny blip, breaking the silence of the room. I jump reflexively. The sudden panic attack brought on by Peyton’s missing heartbeat has me feeling dizzy. I need to sit down. I struggle to find something to hold onto before I pass out. Placing my hand on the bed, I steady myself as I slowly move toward the chair. I can’t breathe. I gasp for air. I’ve got to calm down and fight this rush of adrenaline before I pass out. I feel the sudden increase of my heart rate as I look down at my girl, bandaged, unrecognizable, and fighting for her life. Why did I let her sacrifice herself? I shouldn’t have let her get in that truck with me. It was dangerous. I knew that. I’m a selfish bastard. This is all my fault! It should be me in that bed. What have I done?
I stare at the monitor, and then back to my girl. Leaving my hand on her chest, I check to make sure that the small zig-zagging lines followed by the long green line, are truly connected to her beating heart. They are moving so slowly. I watch the tiny, digital heart blink on and off, on and off. So slow. I wonder what 38 means? Is that okay?
Maybe if I just talk to her, maybe if she hears my voice, I can convince her … God, please help my Peyton.
When I start to speak, my voice comes out in a whisper. I pull the chair right up next to her bed, sitting down and leaning into her so I don’t have to raise my voice.
“Peyton, if you can hear me, I’m right here, babe. I’m so sorry.” My shell of a voice cracks as it quickens and raises pitch. I shake my head and pull my hand up to wipe the tears that are starting to slip from my eyes. Get it together. You don’t have much time. “Peyton, I’m sorry that I let us go over the embankment. I know better than that. I should’ve veered the other direction. I can’t bear the thought of you stuck out there while I was passed out on the bank. I couldn’t even get to you. I hate myself for this, Peyton. I’m weak. It kills me inside that I wasn’t the one to save you. I let you down.” I have to reach for the Kleenex on the table. The snot bubbles are suffocating. I can’t breathe. I can’t talk.
As I sit and blow, trying to clear my nose, I listen to the monitor beeping. The near stillness of the rhythm has me worried. The number next to the blinking heart has dropped to 30. Why has it slowed? What if it stops altogether? At some point, an alarm is going to sound. If it doesn’t, I’m going to get a doctor myself. I’m no specialist, but this can’t be right. She’s slipping away. I can see it. I have to let her know how I feel about her before I lose my chance.
I lean in, close enough for her to hear me. “Peyton, I need you to know the difference you made in my life. Before you, I was such a player. The only thing that mattered to me was football, baseball, and partying. Girls?” I let out an ashamed huff. “I know that you know, there were a lot of them. The numbers were a big, damn joke to me. It was all about having fun. I didn’t care about any of them. All they wanted was popularity … dating the quarterback, wearing my jersey to ball games and stuff. They meant nothing to me. They used me, and I used them right back. Every one of them. They made it so easy. I hate to admit that, but it’s true. I thought all girls were the same. Until you.”
The monitor continues to drop. I know I need to hurry. How do I get this out right? She needs to know how much she means to me.
“You changed all that for me, babe. You knew how I was, and you gave me a chance anyway. You never asked anything from me. But for some reason, I wanted to give you everything. You were the first girl that I ever wanted to call back. The first girl I was proud to let wear my jersey. The first girl I ever stopped myself from crossing the line with. You were too good for that, too good for me. Do you hear me, Peyton? You were just too damn good to be true. I loved you with everything in me. You were it for me, beautiful. You were my future.”
Why am I talking to her in past tense? She’s still here. She’s still with me. Fight for her, damn you. Fight.
I move in closer, desperately pleading in her ear. “You’ve got to come through this, babe. I need you. I need us. I want to be the guy you deserve, and I will be that guy. I know I’m not good enough. Not now. But, I sure as hell am going to try to do everything in my power to be the person who is worthy of you. I promise you, Peyton.” I look up toward the ceiling. “God, please wake her up. I promise I will take care of her this time. I promise.”
I reach for her hand once again. At the contact, I hear an alarm sound. The green line of the monitor begins to spike and flutter. The beeping and chaotic line have me panicked. I look around frantically, “Sarah,” I call in an audible whisper. She must still be out of the room.
I look back toward Peyton. “I’m here for you, babe.�
� The line on the monitor spikes again. Squeezing her hand, I mutter desperately through my shaking voice, “Hang on, I’ll go get help.”
Again, the little green heart flashes faster. The number has climbed to 120. “Sarah!” I raise my voice, releasing Peyton and stumbling toward the door. “Sarah!” I shriek out. She’s not in the room. I pat a path along the wall, finding my way to the door. As I throw it open, the rapid beeping drifts out into the hallway. Thankfully, Sarah stands just outside holding a stack of fresh bedding. She whips her head around at the sound of the alarm.
“Go, Caden. Quick. I need to get help,” she says as she tosses the sheets onto my newly vacated bed.
Nodding my head, I step into the hallway, catching a quick glimpse of Mrs. Carter walking rapidly toward Peyton’s room. Quickly, I turn my head toward the wall, hoping to avert eye contact. I pause, feeling the swoosh of Mrs. Carter’s racing air push past me. I can’t have her recognize me, or this could get even worse. After she passes and the door closes behind her, I walk back to the window and take a look inside. Nurse Sarah is standing at Peyton’s bedside. She’s on the red, emergency phone. I hope she can get help before it’s too late.
“Doctor Smith, Doctor Smith, please report to room 83A. Stat!” I hear Nurse Sarah’s voice boom over the intercom.
What have I done now?
TURNING BACK TO FACE THE hallway, the weight of a thousand elephants pushes against my shoulders. I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t believe I’ve done this to Peyton. I’m dying inside. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. A low wail escapes my searing throat. Nothing can hold it back. Slowly sliding down the wall, I tuck myself into a ball, and weep like a baby. I bury my head in my knees and peek up at the sound of pattering feet. As the sound of footsteps slows to a stop, I hear a man’s voice. His hand comes down on my shoulder, “Are you okay, son?” I nod my head and wave him off.
“Go help her! Fast!” I cry.
“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you.”
Moments later, I wince at Jenna’s unexpected voice, “Caden, come on!” She tugs at my hospital gown. “I heard the alarm. You’ve got to get up now. They can’t see us down here or we’re done for.” She nudges the foot of the wheelchair against my leg.
“I can’t go! Not now!” I gasp, wiping the residual tears from my eyes. “I need to make sure they save her. I think I just crushed her heart! It’s out of control. It was pumping so fast I thought it was going to blow up the damn machine! I know I did it, Jenna. It was steady until I started talking. I just couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut.”
She continues to tug at me. “You are not going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself. You and I both know that you’re not the one to blame for this. Get your ass up! Now! I’m not going down with your sinking ship!” she barks viciously. Then grabbing the sides of my face she orders, “Look at me. She’s going to be okay. But you have to let them do their job!” Her fiery glare pierces my vision, snapping me out of my pitiful state.
That’s when I realize she has a point. I’m not doing myself, or Peyton, any good by sitting here distracting the doctors and nurses who need to get in there to help her. I slowly start to inch my way up and off the wall. I’m so shaky, I teeter back and forth like a toddler learning to balance for the first time.
“Get in!” she growls, pushing the wheelchair into my trembling calves. With one quick thud, I fall into the seat and pull my feet onto the metal footrests. Before they’re completely off the ground, Jenna begins to barrel down the hallway. She takes off with enough speed that we skid out of control, leaving black marks from the racing tires. The wheelchair tugs right, and nearly takes out one of the decorative Christmas trees lining the wall. When she overcorrects, the metal footrest catches an abandoned IV stand that tumbles to the ground with a thud. At the thunderous rattle, I hear a lady’s voice fade off in the distance.
“Slow down, Nurse! Do I need to report …” Panic rises once again, when I hear footsteps beating at the floor behind us. Holding tightly to the armrests, I blink my eyes closed, trying to keep from getting sick.
“Jenna, move. Faster!” I desperately squeal. When I re-open my eyes, Brody and Kaitlyn are standing at the end of the hall. Kaitlyn motions left, calling attention to Brody, who is holding the elevator door open.
“Jump in! I’ll distract them,” he grunts.
At the open door, Jenna spins me around and pulls me through, slamming the DOOR CLOSE button, followed by the L1.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying us some time. We can’t stay up there. Didn’t you hear them trailing us? That place is like an anthill. Every nurse and doctor on duty is crawling around up there right now.”
There is a long silence as the elevator drops to the first level. When the door opens, Jenna is quick to slam the DOOR CLOSE button once again. She turns, looking down at me furiously. Then panting, she screams, “What the hell, Caden?” Her eyes burn into me. “How could you be so careless hanging out in the hallway like that? You completely exposed us! And after all my planning and disguises and …”
“Stop, Jenna!” I throw my hand in her direction. “Listen to yourself!” My voice booms from my hollow chest. “Peyton could be dying, and you’re worried about getting caught?!? All I was doing was waiting to see if she’s okay. As if brain surgery wasn’t enough, now it’s her heart. It’s bouncing all over the place. If you won’t let me go up there, then you have to go make sure they fix her. I won’t be able to live with myself if they can’t.”
When Jenna finally pauses long enough to realize what a wreck I am, her demeanor begins to soften. She releases an audible breath, and then reaches out and wipes a tear from my cheek. “You’re right. Peyton’s way more important than staying out of trouble. What do you need me to do?”
“Take me back up there with you so I can see what’s going on. I have to make sure she’s alright.”
“Absolutely not! We can’t take that risk. Look, I’m still dressed as a nurse. They don’t even seem to know that I’m not a temp. I’ll go back and look through the window … see if I can get a handle on what’s happening. But first, we need to hide you until everything settles down up there.” Jenna’s eyebrows pull together as she bites at her lip. “Look, I care about Peyton too, but we have to act rationally. If we get busted, there’s no way we’re going to find out how she’s doing. Trust me on this.”
I look away from my friend, taking a second to think things through. The doctors on staff tonight are pretty great, and I haven’t heard a code blue come over the speaker. Things must be going okay. “I guess you’re right. I’m not thinking straight. So, where am I going to hide out if I can’t go back to the room to wait?”
“I’ve got an idea. There’s a perfect place down around the corner. You won’t even need to hide. Actually, it may bring you a little peace while I’m up there checking on Peyton.”
The elevator door opens, and once again, I find myself rolling through the halls of Jefferson Medical Center. We pass the gift shop full of colorful, stuffed bears and flowers, and come to a stop at a small, dimly lit room with no windows. Jenna turns the chair and begins to push me through the open archway. Thank God nobody is in here. At the front, sits an altar with a hanging cross. There are a few empty wooden pews up front. I hear the creak of the old wood as we roll past them, making our way toward the front row. When we come to a stop, I glance off to the side and notice a square table holding several rows of flickering candles.
“I want to light one, Jenna. For Peyton. Can you get me over there?”
She nods her head and pushes me over, leaving me at the table long enough to light a candle and send up a prayer. I stare into the glowing blaze, as everything in my periphery grows dark. I’m captivated by the light, as it gently sways back and forth. It seems to be dancing with the surrounding flames. In and out, back and forth. Just like Peyton, my little fire is too attractive to keep to itself. It reaches out and gently touches the flame to its right, quickly
pulling away before the two small blazes fully merge into one. Watching the friendly flame has the warm memories of my Peyton burning inside of me.
God, she is beautiful. I think of my sweet girl, and how everyone loves her so much. I don’t know how I’ll live if she doesn’t make it. It would destroy me. God, I know I’m not much worth listening to. I’ve done some terrible things over the last eighteen years. Look, I’m sorry about the time I took my nana’s pop bead necklace and gave it to Kali at Sunday School. I’m sorry about the time I kissed Carley in the coat closet when the teacher wasn’t looking. I’m sorry about switching the signs on the spiked apple cider at our barn dance. And God … I’m sorry I didn’t take better care of Peyton. Look, I know that you are a forgiving God. Please don’t hold my childhood sins against me. Please find it in your heart to let her stay here with us. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything if you let us keep her …
My prayer is interrupted by a soft voice, “I’ll be back. Take your time.”
“Oh, hey, Jenna, I’m done here. Can you take me back over to the pew? I can’t wheel myself out of here with one arm, and someone else may need to light one of these.”
“You’ve got it.” Jenna rolls me away from the light of the newly flickering candle. “Now don’t go getting yourself into any trouble while I’m gone. Stay here,” she winks.
Emotionally drained and exhausted, I rest my cheek on my hand. “I won’t leave here without you. I don’t have the strength to get out of this chair right now, anyway.” I look around the small, empty chapel. “This seems like a great place to calm my nerves.” I take in a deep breath and release it slowly, as Jenna pushes me across the room.
Once I’m settled next to the front pew, I’m able to take in the serenity of this place. It’s dark, quiet, and relaxing. I feel safe here. Watched over. I haven’t felt this sense of peace for days. Every time I close my eyes, I relive that horrible day of the Christmas tree hunt. I need this. I need the rest. The flickering glow of the soft candlelight lulls me into a dreamlike state. Before I know it, my eyes blink closed. Peace at last.
