Until Lexi

Another nurse appears and leads us back through a set of double doors.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Riley asks, trailing behind the nurse.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” he tells her with what I’m sure is meant to be a comforting smile. “The doctor will be able to answer any questions you have.”

The frustration and worry pouring off Riley is almost tangible.

It trumps my own worry for Lexi. Not that I don’t care about the others—I do because she cares about them—but Lexi is quickly becoming my everything.

I feel for Riley, though. Her entire family is somewhere in these halls, and she has no idea what happened, or how severe their injuries might be. She’s desperate for someone to tell us something, and so am I.

We follow him around a corner to a set of elevators.

“They’re not in the E.R.?” Riley asks as we step over the threshold.

“They’re in a private room.”

“That’s gotta be a good thing, right?” Riley asks me, but I can only shrug.

I’m not sure how they do things at the hospital here. Seems kinda fast for them to already be moved to a private room, but then again, I don’t know how long they’ve been here. The only thing that tells me is that they’re being admitted.

We ride the elevator up two floors, stepping off when the doors open. The nurse leads us down another series of hallways before coming to a stop outside a closed door. He knocks, opening the door slowly and announcing his presence.

“You all have someone very worried about you,” he says, stepping inside.

I let Riley go first, even though I’m dying to lay eyes on Lexi.

“Where’s Hope?” Riley asks, coming to a stop a couple of feet into the room. I follow her in, stopping behind her, immediately noticing the same thing she did.

Two hospital beds.

Lexi, Penny, and Mercy are all curled up together in one of them, but the other remains empty.

No sign of Hope.

Neither woman speaks, but they don’t need to.

Both Lexi’s and Penny’s eyes are bloodshot filled to the brim with tears, pain etched onto every inch of their faces. I understand immediately. Riley comes to the realization seconds later, when Lexi shakes her head solemnly, eyes darting to Mercy.

“No.” Riley rasps.

My heart slams against my rib cage.

Tears roll steadily down Lexi and Penny’s cheeks, and Riley starts shaking her head.

“No,” she repeats, voice raw, broken.

Her body goes limp, legs giving out from underneath her, and I step forward in time to catch her before she crumples to a heap of devastation on the floor. Scooping her up in my arms, I carry her to the bed where what remains of her family waits and set her down gently at the end. She crawls to them, wrapping herself around them as much as possible.

I take a few steps back, giving them a much-needed moment. I’m desperate to hold Lexi, but this isn’t about me. They’ve lost someone who means the world to them.

My chest aches watching the three women mourn together, Mercy cocooned between them. It’s heartbreaking to witness, but I can’t bring myself to look away. These women… the bond between them is a thing of beauty, even in their pain.

Suddenly feeling like an interloper, I wonder if I should give them some time and come back later, but then I hear Lexi whisper my name.

My gaze zeroes in on her, and I realize I could never leave her at a time like this.

When she reaches out for me, I go to her without question.

Uncertain of her possible injuries, I sit on the edge of the bed next to Lexi and offer her my open arms. She comes to me without hesitation, curling herself against my chest. I wrap my arms around her body, holding on tightly as her grief soaks the front of my shirt.

That’s how the doctor finds us when she comes into the room.

She says nothing about the fact that the five of us are piled onto a single hospital bed. In fact, she apologizes for interrupting, explaining that she’s doing her rounds and wants to check on the girls. Clearly, she knows of their loss and wants to give them space, but three of them are patients and she has a job to do.

Riley and I pull ourselves away, giving the doctor access to Lexi, Penny, and Mercy. She asks each of them questions about how they’re feeling physically. It’s obvious to anyone who looks at them that they’re not okay mentally, but it’s expected after what they’ve been through.

Standing silently on the sidelines, I listen carefully.

I’m happy to learn that the three of them are relatively unharmed.

They’ve all got some bumps and bruises, but nothing to be too concerned about. Lexi has a few cuts, from what I’m assuming was broken glass. All minor, no stitches required. The worst physical injury is Lexi’s concussion. From her conversation with the doctor, I’m able to piece together that when the airbag went off, the force of it somehow slammed her head against the window, knocking her out.

The doctor has already admitted all three of them for the night as a precaution. She explains that they might not have any life-threatening injuries, but sometimes injuries from accidents aren’t always immediately noticeable, like whiplash.

Not knowing the details of the accident, I have no way of knowing how much worse their injuries could have been, but when the doctor makes a comment about the girls being lucky, the air in the room grows thick, suffocating.

Lucky.

Hearing the word leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Luck is never a factor when it comes to surviving a trauma.

There’s nothing lucky about being in a car accident. The severity of injuries doesn’t matter, not when someone you love doesn’t survive. Survivor’s guilt is real, and it can be a real mind-fuck for those who suffer from it. I know first-hand how it can eat away at you.

The doctor immediately realizes her insensitive blunder and apologizes profusely before excusing herself from the room.

The mood is still solemn after the doctor leaves, but Penny and Mercy move to the second bed. Riley sits with them, and I return to Lexi’s side. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.

Now that I’m aware of her concussion, I slip into the bed with her, urging her to lay down and rest. Still, I hold her tightly, knowing all too well how easily the outcome of the accident could have been different. Part of me desperately wants to know what happened, but I’m not going to push her to talk about it. Not now.

I don’t know how long we lay there in silence, Lexi’s back against my chest. She faces her sisters in the opposite bed, clearly wanting to keep them in sight. Eventually, Mercy drifts off to sleep, and Riley quietly voices the question I’ve been dying to ask.

“What happened?”

Penny sniffles but remains silent.