LJ Idol, Topic Two: "Three Little Words"
Hospital waiting rooms at four in the morning can be some of the loneliest places on Earth. They're usually deserted, bereft of the life that pulses through most of the rest of the building's corridors even at the slowest times. Even if there are other souls there to keep you company, at that bleak hour there's no comfort to be had from anyone else's presence. Nothing good ever brings you to such a place at such a time; each person sits hunched over his private agony, or paces endlessly, wearing tracks into the sensible carpet, or stares flat and unseeing out the window, clenching fists helplessly.
It's even more of a ghastly irony when surroundings that should be familiar and comforting become places of horror, thought David as he looked around blearily. Hilary had spent so much time here, greeting others with a smile of reassurance, or with face carefully composed, bearing news that could break or destroy. In her grimmest times she used to call it "bearing life or death" when she returned to tell the families whether their loved ones were out of danger, or had lost their battle. Now she was fighting a battle of her own, somewhere behind those doors.
His eyes fell on them yet again, those forbidding double doors at the end of the room. He'd tried to avoid looking, but no matter how many cups of bitter coffee he gulped, how many insipid magazine articles he read, how many paces he marked off in his self-created circuit, his gaze kept wandering back to those doors, as the endless refrain beat in his head: I should never have let her go. I should have made her wait for the ambulance. But Hilary had laughed at him, fondly caressing his cheek, and tut-tutted him for being such a worrywart.
"I can make it to St. Mark's in ten minutes," she'd said. "If I wait for the ambulance to get here to pick me up, it might be too late for the poor bastard who needs my help."
Forestalling his objection with a raised hand, she smiled gently. "And you checked the chains just yesterday. The truck'll be fine. Honestly, Dave, it's like you thought I'd never done this before. Now go back to sleep. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She kissed him and dashed out the door, still pulling on her winter jacket. He heard the engine roar as she pulled out, an angel on a mission of mercy, borne on 4x4 tires rather than feathery wings. He tried to ignore his misgivings, and eventually drifted back into a troubled sleep.
Until twenty minutes later, when the phone had rung.
"Dave? It's Jon. I need you to come over here as soon as you can. It's Hilary."
Jon was Hil's friend and coworker, the chief of surgery on her unit. "What? What about her? She left...um, twenty minutes ago, she should be there by now."
There was a pause, and David felt a vice clamp down on his heart. "She's here, Dave, but....well, there was an accident."
"A what? Oh, God, no. I told her to wait for the ambulance, I......please tell me she's all right."
Jon's voice was tense, fraught with hidden meanings and unspoken terrors. "It wasn't her fault. The other driver was going too fast and didn't have any chains or snow tires. He plowed into her pretty hard. I -- well, I won't gild the lily. She's in bad shape, Dave. Get here as quick as you can."
Now Dave stared out the window at the swirling flakes, cursing them, cursing the unnamed other driver, cursing the fates, cursing the gods, anything, everything, but cursing himself especially for letting Hil go. I should never have let her go. I should have made her wait.
There was a noise from the double doors, and Dave turned, feeling suddenly as if he were buried in cold mud, whirling in slow motion, the coffee cup falling from nerveless fingers as he saw Jon standing in the doorway.
"Hilary........?" he tried, unable to get any other words out, sensing the darkness closing in, knowing the truth before Jon ever spoke it.
Jon's voice was soft, kind, filled with sadness. "She's gone."
Two little words, Dave thought crazily. How can two little words mean so damned much, and hurt so damned much? The darkness pounced. The abyss opened at his feet; his world was crumbling. His throat burned, raw with grief; his jaw clenched; his ears buzzed; his head whirled. He crossed the room to where Jon stood, and those ten steps took eons.
And then Jon spoke again, his eyes already brimming over just like Dave's were. "But..." he said softly.
A third word, seemingly completely unrelated. How could any word have any meaning after those two? What anodyne could there possibly be for a life cruelly ripped away, an injustice unparalleled? Yet Dave felt the darkness easing back a bit, felt an undisguised hope spark to life somewhere deep inside. He choked back a sob, brushing angrily at the tears burning his face. "But......?" he wanted to know.
"She's gone, but......we were able to save the baby, Dave."
The spark flared, grew brighter, blossomed into a steady candleflame. "You...you saved her?"
Jon nodded, smiling through his tears. "You have a daughter. She looks just like her mother."
***********************
At last, the party guests were all gone and David sank into a chair wearily. Playing shepherd for a group of eight-year-old girls wasn't what he would exactly call fun, but Tina had flashed those baby blue eyes at him and said please, and he'd given in with barely a fight. She had Daddy wrapped around her little finger, all right, he thought, grinning. But where was she?
Heaving himself to his feet, he wandered through the kitchen and hallway, kicking aside discarded wrapping paper and ribbons, in search of his pride and joy.
He found her standing in front of the mantel, looking at the picture that stood on the corner. Her hand was stretched out to it without quite touching, as if she were afraid to disturb the status quo. She turned to face him, and those baby blues were filled with tears.
"Dad, why don't you ever talk about Mom?"
David looked at the picture: he and Hilary, the two of them smiling, laughing. Felt the old constriction return, the memories as fresh as yesterday. Felt the constriction lessen, his heart expanding, emotions swelling as he looked at his daughter, standing there waiting for his answer.
He took a deep breath, and sat down on the couch.
"Come here, sweetheart," he said, patting the couch beside him. "Let me tell you about...three little words."
-- END OF LINE --
[[This has been my entry for week two of LJ Idol. Hope you enjoyed it. Edited 11-1-11 to add that the full list of other participants is now available as well as the voting ballot. Please do go read the others as there is once again a lot of good stuff out there.]]
It's even more of a ghastly irony when surroundings that should be familiar and comforting become places of horror, thought David as he looked around blearily. Hilary had spent so much time here, greeting others with a smile of reassurance, or with face carefully composed, bearing news that could break or destroy. In her grimmest times she used to call it "bearing life or death" when she returned to tell the families whether their loved ones were out of danger, or had lost their battle. Now she was fighting a battle of her own, somewhere behind those doors.
His eyes fell on them yet again, those forbidding double doors at the end of the room. He'd tried to avoid looking, but no matter how many cups of bitter coffee he gulped, how many insipid magazine articles he read, how many paces he marked off in his self-created circuit, his gaze kept wandering back to those doors, as the endless refrain beat in his head: I should never have let her go. I should have made her wait for the ambulance. But Hilary had laughed at him, fondly caressing his cheek, and tut-tutted him for being such a worrywart.
"I can make it to St. Mark's in ten minutes," she'd said. "If I wait for the ambulance to get here to pick me up, it might be too late for the poor bastard who needs my help."
Forestalling his objection with a raised hand, she smiled gently. "And you checked the chains just yesterday. The truck'll be fine. Honestly, Dave, it's like you thought I'd never done this before. Now go back to sleep. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She kissed him and dashed out the door, still pulling on her winter jacket. He heard the engine roar as she pulled out, an angel on a mission of mercy, borne on 4x4 tires rather than feathery wings. He tried to ignore his misgivings, and eventually drifted back into a troubled sleep.
Until twenty minutes later, when the phone had rung.
"Dave? It's Jon. I need you to come over here as soon as you can. It's Hilary."
Jon was Hil's friend and coworker, the chief of surgery on her unit. "What? What about her? She left...um, twenty minutes ago, she should be there by now."
There was a pause, and David felt a vice clamp down on his heart. "She's here, Dave, but....well, there was an accident."
"A what? Oh, God, no. I told her to wait for the ambulance, I......please tell me she's all right."
Jon's voice was tense, fraught with hidden meanings and unspoken terrors. "It wasn't her fault. The other driver was going too fast and didn't have any chains or snow tires. He plowed into her pretty hard. I -- well, I won't gild the lily. She's in bad shape, Dave. Get here as quick as you can."
Now Dave stared out the window at the swirling flakes, cursing them, cursing the unnamed other driver, cursing the fates, cursing the gods, anything, everything, but cursing himself especially for letting Hil go. I should never have let her go. I should have made her wait.
There was a noise from the double doors, and Dave turned, feeling suddenly as if he were buried in cold mud, whirling in slow motion, the coffee cup falling from nerveless fingers as he saw Jon standing in the doorway.
"Hilary........?" he tried, unable to get any other words out, sensing the darkness closing in, knowing the truth before Jon ever spoke it.
Jon's voice was soft, kind, filled with sadness. "She's gone."
Two little words, Dave thought crazily. How can two little words mean so damned much, and hurt so damned much? The darkness pounced. The abyss opened at his feet; his world was crumbling. His throat burned, raw with grief; his jaw clenched; his ears buzzed; his head whirled. He crossed the room to where Jon stood, and those ten steps took eons.
And then Jon spoke again, his eyes already brimming over just like Dave's were. "But..." he said softly.
A third word, seemingly completely unrelated. How could any word have any meaning after those two? What anodyne could there possibly be for a life cruelly ripped away, an injustice unparalleled? Yet Dave felt the darkness easing back a bit, felt an undisguised hope spark to life somewhere deep inside. He choked back a sob, brushing angrily at the tears burning his face. "But......?" he wanted to know.
"She's gone, but......we were able to save the baby, Dave."
The spark flared, grew brighter, blossomed into a steady candleflame. "You...you saved her?"
Jon nodded, smiling through his tears. "You have a daughter. She looks just like her mother."
***********************
At last, the party guests were all gone and David sank into a chair wearily. Playing shepherd for a group of eight-year-old girls wasn't what he would exactly call fun, but Tina had flashed those baby blue eyes at him and said please, and he'd given in with barely a fight. She had Daddy wrapped around her little finger, all right, he thought, grinning. But where was she?
Heaving himself to his feet, he wandered through the kitchen and hallway, kicking aside discarded wrapping paper and ribbons, in search of his pride and joy.
He found her standing in front of the mantel, looking at the picture that stood on the corner. Her hand was stretched out to it without quite touching, as if she were afraid to disturb the status quo. She turned to face him, and those baby blues were filled with tears.
"Dad, why don't you ever talk about Mom?"
David looked at the picture: he and Hilary, the two of them smiling, laughing. Felt the old constriction return, the memories as fresh as yesterday. Felt the constriction lessen, his heart expanding, emotions swelling as he looked at his daughter, standing there waiting for his answer.
He took a deep breath, and sat down on the couch.
"Come here, sweetheart," he said, patting the couch beside him. "Let me tell you about...three little words."
-- END OF LINE --
[[This has been my entry for week two of LJ Idol. Hope you enjoyed it. Edited 11-1-11 to add that the full list of other participants is now available as well as the voting ballot. Please do go read the others as there is once again a lot of good stuff out there.]]