Wild Child

CHAPTER THIRTEEN- Jenna

I’ve never been so torn and conflicted in my whole life!  Granted, I was just turning four when my mother died, but I still learned to hate the hospital.  Luckily, she wanted to spend her last days at home, which she was able to do, but I remember the smell and the hopelessness, and riding home with my father while he cried quietly in the front seat.  All in all, I hate hospitals.  With a passion.  I feel short of breath just thinking about going to visit Rusty.  So much so that I just freaked and hung up on his mother, which I’ll have to call and apologize for.  And I will.  Later.

After I conquer step one, step one being Rusty.

Despite my fear of hospitals, despite the fact that I probably just deeply offended his mother, despite the fact that I made one of life’s biggest confessions and he said nothing, despite the fact that he totally bailed at the wedding, I’m going to see Rusty.  At the hospital.  Because I love him.

I was more than a little hurt when I found out that he left before the reception.  Not only did he not find me and tell me, but he almost seemed to be avoiding me altogether. I just don’t understand it.  The only thing I can figure is that my use of the L word freaked him out.  I’m sure Rusty knows I love him, but I’ve never gone out on a limb and told him.  Until last night.

Maybe this all adds up to the fact that he really doesn’t have deeper feelings for me.  Maybe it’s just great sex and great companionship, nothing more.

It’s as I’m pulling on a pair of jeans, getting ready to leave that I find something else to be nervous about.  What if he doesn’t want me there?  What will I do then?

I push the thought out of my mind.  I can’t think about that right now. I have to go.  Not only is it the right thing to do, but it’s Rusty.  And I love him. And he was almost taken from me.  I have to see him again. I have to.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN- Rusty

Time feels different for some reason.  Slower.  Like every minute is an hour.  Maybe because I’ve slept so much.  Maybe because I can’t sleep now.  Maybe it’s because I’m waiting.  On Jenna.

I don’t know what to think about her anymore. I can’t figure her out.  And I’m not sure I should even try.

I was hoping I was wrong about her, that she’s really not like my dad.  He always thought there was something better somewhere else, too.  So he left.  He abandoned me and Mom, and never looked back.

I’ve always been bound and determined that I won’t make the same mistake she did.  And, the more I think about it, the more I realize that leopards don’t change their spots.  The things I loved so much about Jenna are likely some of the very things that will take her away from me.  I guess you really can’t have your cake and eat it, too.

Maybe I should just let her go. If she hated Greenfield before, she’d hate it twice as much if she felt like she had to stay to take care of an invalid who may or may not have a future at all.

No, the days of me having anything to offer Jenna that could compete with the rest of the world are over.  I guess it’s time to cut her loose before she cuts and runs.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN- Jenna

As it turns out, my memory (and probably my imagination, to some degree) had vilified hospitals much more than necessary.  At least so far, I think as I ride the elevator to the third floor.

I’m inclined to rethink my bravado when the doors open and a long sterile hallway stretches out before me.  The heavy scent of sanitizer stings my nose and makes me think of unpleasant things, of sick people and dying people and people who are lost without each other.  In a way, at least in the way my memory reacts, it’s like the hospital took my mother from me.  Visit by visit, month by month.

The doors start to close again, so I step out in a hurry. After two deep, shaky breaths, I start to turn back, only to find them closed and my means of escape gone.  For a second, panic strikes.  I spin in a wild circle, looking for the glowing red EXIT sign.  I feel my forehead prickle with sweat as the walls draw closer and closer and the air gets thicker and thicker.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

Finally, I spot the exit.  I take a step toward it, but a swell of heat gushes over my face, making the room swim right before my eyes.  I reach for the wall, anything that’s steady in a world that’s grown disturbingly unstable.

Why did I come?  Why did I come?

My palm hits the cool concrete of the wall and I lean toward it, pressing my cheek to the pale, painted surface.  My pulse is racing, my heart is thumping and my addled mind is struggling to answer my own simple question.

Why did I come?  Why did I come?

But finally, like a cool breeze to parched skin, my head clears enough for me to feel the answer.

Rusty.  I came for Rusty.

I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath.  Just the thought of him, of the fact that he was so nearly taken from my life in a very permanent, irrevocable way, gives me the focus I need to get a grip on myself.

I don’t move for several long minutes as I wait for my calm to be restored.  Still leaning heavily against the hard wall, I give my shaky legs a test.  They don’t feel strong by any means, but they’re strong enough to support me. That’s the main thing.  I push away from the concrete and smooth my hair before I turn my back to the wall and face, head on, the two intimidating wooden doors in front of me.

As I approach, I read the large, red lettering emblazoned across both panels.  AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.  I hardly fit that description.

I chew my lip as I think of what to do now.  As I look casually from left to right, I see the little buzzer to one side of the door.  There’s a sign below it that has a schedule of ICU visiting hours and the procedure for getting inside.

Following the directions, I depress the buzzer and wait.  After a few seconds, a pleasant enough sounding voice comes on.  “May I help you?”

“Um, I’m here to see Rust- er, I mean, I’m here to see Jeff Catron.”

“Hold please.”

The line goes dead, leaving me standing in front of the door, staring at the box like an idiot.  I look all around to make sure no one is watching me.  I’m still alone, thank God.

Finally, she comes back on.  “Room three oh four.  Come on back.”

A click is followed by a loud buzzing sound just before the two doors swing open in opposite directions, allowing me to pass into the sick people inner sanctum.

The center of the large, bland room is dominated by an enormous nurse’s station.  Arranged in a semi-circle around it is a ring of patient rooms, all with glass windows and doors that allow the nurses to see inside unless the curtain is drawn.  I look to my left and see room three-twelve.  I figure Rusty is all the way at the other end, so I start walking along the rounded edge of the nurse’s station until I get to his room.

The curtain is drawn and I hear no sounds coming from behind it.  Hesitantly, I knock on the metal frame that surrounds the open glass door.