Sometimes it's all random and out of our control, with no rhyme or reason.
I want to have hope, but I have just seen too much.
And how will her husband feel? I don't want to be the one to have to tell him.
But I will be.
His voice is still ringing in my ears. Like some sort of infernal echo, stuck in my brain. Stupid woman. Stupid woman.
Swallowing back a lump of fear as I enter the room, and see doctors and nurses rushing around her hospital bed. She is still flatlining. For perhaps the first time in my career, my feet feel a bit frozen. I know I should do something to help, but my eyes are just drawn to the silver, jeweled cell phone case on her bedside table.
I don't want to make that phone call. Please.
"Camilla!" the doctor shouts at me. "Prepare the ventilator."
What? But she's dead. I stand there feeling like a zombie.
"As soon as we get her back, she needs to go on that thing," the doctor explains. "Immediately."
Well, that's optimistic. But I've worked with Michael for years, and if he's optimistic, then maybe I should have some hope. My body moves without my permission to do as he says and assist him. I bring over the breathing machine for a woman who isn't breathing—her heart isn't even beating.
And then a beep.
Oh, thank God.
"She's back," Doctor Mike says with a sigh as he removes the paddles from her chest. "Welcome back, Yvette."
The woman is lying there dazed and confused, struggling to breathe. "Quoi…? What happened?"
"You died for a little bit," one of the other nurses says, squeezing her hand. "But you're okay. Good job, girl. Keep fighting it."
Emotion and anxiety floods my chest like pins and needles. That's usually me, being comforting, being a rock, but right now I somehow feel incapable.
Yvette looks around the room, dizzy with vacant eyes until she sees me. "Camilla," she says, gasping for air, and lifting her hand. Her eyes fill with tears. "Can you call him?"
I nod and stop what I'm doing to move over to her phone.
"There's no time," Doctor Mike says. "Look, Yvette? I'm sorry, but we are going to put you into a medically induced coma right now so that you can go on this ventilator. It's your only chance of survival."
"No," Yvette says tearfully, "please, no.”
"I'm sorry, we have no other options."
"Can we flip her over on her stomach?" I ask the doctor.
"It's too late," he responds. "We're going to lose her again if we don't act now. Sedate her.”
"Call my husband!" Yvette begs me, her voice raw and gasping. She uses almost all her oxygen to say his name. "Call Gabriel."
I press the phone against her thumb to follow this request while the other nurses set up the machine. For a second, my mind is blank. Gabriel? That's the first time I've heard his name. Then I remember.
He's the Huge Fucking Asshole.
I press that name on the phone to dial him while they put her to sleep.
"Gabe," she is crying, sobbing, unable to breathe. "Gabe—I'm sorry. Tell him I'm sorry."
"She's too excited," the doctor is saying. “Her heart is going to stop again. Put her under now.”
"Can we just wait one minute so she can hear his voice?" I ask, as the phone is ringing. I stare at the nurse delivering barbiturates into the IV. "Please. It's important to her."
"Sorry, Milla. There's no time. We need to act now.”
I watch the fluid being injected into her veins, feeling helpless. I look over to her dark eyes, and I see the desperation. I see a human being filled with love and need, clinging to life. Fighting for a chance to fix her mistakes. To finish her unfinished business.
And just like that she’s gone. While the phone is still ringing in my hand.
Chapter 3
I am leaning against the wall of the hospital hallway, not even remembering how I got here. The glitzy silver cell phone is still in my hand, which is hanging limply against my side. I was supposed to take some bodies to the morgue, but I was just feeling so drained of energy… the doctor saw me struggling and offered to help me with that task.
That look on Yvette’s face is going to haunt me for a long time. I am sure it will be added to the ever-spinning carousel of virus victims in my head—but right now, I can only think about her. It’s really bothering me more than it should, and I don’t know why.
I don’t even know her, but I almost wish it me instead. She has a lot more to live for than I do. She has a real relationship with a real man, and it sounds complicated, but they clearly love each other. I have nothing. Just a long string of failed relationships and exes who seemed really interested in me at the start—but quickly moved on to find a more beautiful and exciting girl. Someone more like Y.
She has only been in the hospital for a few days, but everyone already cares so much. She has that special, magnetic quality about her that makes everyone pay attention. Even unconscious and on life support, she’s more dazzling and vibrant than me after five shots of espresso.
She’s basically a Disney princess. Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, waiting for the kiss of her prince.
I’m an ugly dwarf in scrubs. Frumpy. Lonely. Crabby.
After a long shift like this… Smelly.
Is it any wonder that she is not only married, but also has a mysterious Sexy Babe?
I don’t have a pet. If I did, it would surely run away to stay with a neighbor. I don’t even have a houseplant, but I am thinking of getting a cactus. Seriously, no one would miss me if I were lying in that
