But I couldn’t think of that right now.
Instead, I kissed my son and murmured that everything was going to be okay. Told him I loved him. Watched him leave, watching my heart and strength go with him.
People approached me. Women took turns sitting next to me, holding my hand, handing me coffee, sometimes speaking, though I couldn’t remember what they said.
At some point the doctor came out again. My heart crawled up my throat as I watched her slow walk toward our encampment. There was nothing on her face. Of course there wasn’t. Doctor’s couldn’t wear their news on their faces. Couldn’t carry their heart on their sleeve. Being human amongst all of this sickness and death was the quickest way to go insane.
I knew that because we’d all clutched on to our humanity with bloody fingertips in the midst of the worst years. After Laurie.
She was coming to tell me he was dead. However long it took her to get here was my remaining time to clutch on to that singular word.
Alive.
Three seconds.
Two.
One.
None.
The doctor stood directly in front of me.
Bex was beside me now, not holding my hand, because that wasn’t exactly her style. Which I was grateful for. I didn’t want to be touched. She was close enough that I could feel her body tense, waiting for impact. Everyone was. No one thought he was going to make it. It became clear to me now. They’d been listening better before, when the doctor had explained his injuries.
They were ready for death. They were waiting to watch me hear about it. So they could try to do something. Save the human in me.
But there was no saving me.
After this moment, I’d be human for my children. I’d fuse my mask to my face, but I’d be empty inside.
“You can see him now,” the doctor said.
The words didn’t penetrate at first because I’d been trying to block out words of death. I blinked rapidly.
“He’s not awake,” she continued. “We’ve got him in an induced coma. There is some brain swelling that needs to go down before he can wake up. Once that happens, we will be able to gage the full extent of his injuries. For now, he’s stable. Serious, but stable. You won’t be able to see him for long, but I’m sure he’d love to hear your voice.”
She said the last part with kindness. With a humanness about her. Her eyes smiled ever so slightly, but there was still a detachment there that I understood and envied.
Serious but stable.
Not dead.
I still got to hold on to the word alive. But now came the complexities of what that meant. Alive but... what? Brain dead? Paralyzed? Unable to remember my name?
If he could open his eyes and breathe on his own, it would be a victory. Surely, I could handle anything else.
I didn’t want to see him. To see him hooked up to things. To see him in a hospital bed without his cut, without his smile, without his ease.
But I had to.
That was my job.
I’d made the decision to become and Old Lady again. I’d known the risks. Known that this life could steal him from me at any moment. All the while, I’d been worried about gunshots and explosions when it was a semi-truck that might steal my second chance. My second life.
Strength was required here. The club was all around me. I couldn’t disrespect Kace with my fear. With all of my ugly worries. So I stood, my knees thankfully holding me.
I followed the doctor in silence. Sterile smells invaded my senses as we walked past rooms. I didn’t want to get to Kace’s room. Be faced with him while fragile.
But I eventually reached his room, because there was no room for wants in times like these.
He looked worse than I’d imagined. Which had been pretty bad. One of his legs was in a cast, with scary looking metal prongs going through the plaster and presumably into his skin and bone. His body still looked big, crowding the small hospital bed, though the tube down his throat and the machines he was attached to looked bigger still. White bandages covered his head. Had they done brain surgery? Had someone cut into his skull?
“I know it’s overwhelming to see him like this,” the doctor conveyed softly. I hadn’t caught her name. I hadn’t wanted to know it. If there was still a chance that she was going to tell me that Kace was dead, I didn’t want to know her name.
“He has gotten through the worst of it,” she continued. “The next few days will be critical, but he’s young. He is healthy, and strong, which are all of the ingredients needed to get through this.” Her eyes found mine. “And he has a life to fight for, and obviously, a whole lot of love. I know I’m a doctor and supposed to speak purely on the science of things, but sometimes, love can be what brings people back from accidents this.”