Amanda’s head snaps to me. “Oh my god! You did? I would have freaked.”
“I practically did! Just thinking about it still makes my heart stop and my lungs tighten. I completely froze as I watched them crumble to the ground.”
One of the head nurses stops by the station and hands me a patient’s chart. “Hey Melanie, this one was just added into your rotation. He had surgery earlier today so he might be in and out of it for a while. Oh, and his family is present.”
I flip open the chart and examine it. Amanda bends toward me, taking a peek at the chart. A loud gasp escapes her lungs. “Holy shit! This is the guy.”
I give her puzzled look. “The g
uy?”
She shrieks. “Yes! The firefighter, the one who saved the boy! Look, it says right there.”
Scanning the chart, my eyes read the fine print.
Rescued firefighter from rubble at the Lexington Ave collapse. Partial second-degree burns throughout 20% of the body. Internal hemorrhaging. Spinal fracture.
“Damn, his back’s broken.”
Amanda whispers, “He’s gotta be on some serious drugs right now.”
Glancing at the chart, I browse the listed medications prescribed; she’s right. At least six medications are listed, each one for a specific symptom, plus the painkillers.
I close the chart, placing it on the counter as I return to completing the online paperwork and medical insurance forms. Amanda stalks off to complete the rounds for the upcoming hour and I glance at my watch, ready to do the same.
Standing steadily, I lift the chart and walk over to room number three, softly knocking before I enter. I have no idea why I’m nervous, but I am. It’s rather unnerving, and frankly I’m a little unsettled by my reaction to all of this.
Exhaling softly, I push the door open and take a couple steps into the room. At first glance, I notice a couple sitting together by the windowsill, cupping hands and looking out the room’s wide window.
I clear my throat and begin, “Uh, hi. I’m Nurse Stevens and I’ll be taking a look at, uh…”
Shit, I don’t even know his name. Stupid.
Quickly skimming the name label on the chart, a sense of deja vu occurs. Roman Moretti.
A soft whisper escapes my lips. “Roman?”
At that instant, I glance up to look at the couple in front of me and I immediately recognize the old woman from the bakery. Mrs. Zeppieri.
Mrs. Zeppieri flashes a bright smile and taps her husband’s shoulder. “Look dear, it’s the éclairs girl.”
Frozen in place, the encounter causes the hairs on my arms to stand at attention. My eyes travel to the patient sleeping in the bed as his face comes into focus. Even though it’s burned and reddened from the flames, I immediately recognize him from that run-in months ago. My lungs tighten as they yearn for air. My eyes look down upon the handsome stranger. It’s him, the guy who worked at the bakery in high school.
Holy shit.
Roman
A SLIGHT BURNING SENSATION RADIATES throughout my body. My skin itches profusely as the pain intensifies. Irritation and soreness exude as the heat inside me rises. My eyes shoot open and take in my surroundings. The gleaming moonlight shines into the darkened hospital room. A bedside table holds a picture of myself with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. Across the room, near the window, I see a display of large flower vases and greeting cards. Heart-shaped balloons tied to the bedpost float in the air.
I swallow hard to silken my dry throat. I look around for a glass of water, but can’t see very clearly. Feeling for the button to call the nurse, an excruciating pain shoots out from my right hand. Looking down, I see my blistered hand covered in ointment and wrapped in medical bandages.
I try to maneuver my head to scan the rest of my body, but it’s extremely difficult to move. I sense something taped to my face so I lift my left hand, touching the bandage and flinching at the contact. My stiff neck prevents me from observing anything past my chest. My eyes close as I concentrate on wiggling my toes; I’m barely able to do so.
A sense of panic magnifies as my breathing falters and becomes harsh. The worst possibility of what happened to me after the fire seeps into reality. My body trembles as the trauma of the recent events flashes through my mind. Tears spill down my face as I think the absolute worst. I’m paralyzed.
I feel my heart pound against my chest and the blaring sound of beeps from the vitals machine chimes throughout the room.
Seconds later, a nurse bursts into the room and yells out, “He’s awake!”