Point of Retreat

mine is surreal. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel it again. I close my eyes and I kiss her palm again and again. I sit there and cry and kiss the only parts of her I can over and over.
     
    “Will,” Dr. Bradshaw says. “We need to go now.”
     
    I stand up and kiss her on the forehead. I take a step back, then take a step forward again and kiss her hand. I take two steps back, then walk two steps toward her again and kiss her cheek.
     
    Dr. Bradshaw takes my arm. “Will, we need to go.”
     
    I turn around and take a few steps toward the door. “Wait,” I say. I put my hand in my pocket. I pull out her purple hair clip and walk back to her bed. I open her hand and place it in her palm and close her fingers over it, then kiss her on the forehead again before we leave.
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
     
     
     
    The rest of the morning drags by. Kel left with Sherry. Eddie was discharged. She wanted to stay with me but Gavin and Joel wouldn’t let her. All I can do now is wait. Wait and think. Think and wait. That’s all I can do. That’s all I do.
     
    I wander the halls for a while. I can’t keep sitting in that waiting room. I’ve spent way too much of my life in there….and in this hospital. I was here for six solid days after my parent’s died when I stayed with Caulder. I don’t remember much from those six days. We were both in a daze, not really believing what was happening. Caulder hit his head in the wreck and broke his arm. I’m not sure his injuries were near extensive enough to warrant six days in the hospital, but the staff seemed like they didn’t feel comfortable just letting us go. Two orphans, into the wild.
     
    Caulder was only seven at the time so the hardest part was all the questions he had. I couldn’t get it through to him that we weren’t going to see them again. I think that six day hospital stay is why I hate pity so much. Every single person that spoke to me felt sorry for me, and I could see it in their eyes. I could hear it in their voices.
     
    I was here with Lake for two months off and on when Julia was sick. When Kel and Caulder would stay at my grandparents, Lake and I would stay here with Julia. Lake stayed most nights, in fact. When Kel wasn’t with me, he was here with them. By the end of Julia’s first week here, Lake and I ended up bringing a blow-up mattress. Hospital furniture is the worst. They asked us to remove the mattress from the room a few times. Instead, we would just deflate it every morning and then blow it up again every night. We noticed they weren’t so quick to ask us to remove it when we were asleep on it.
     
    Out of all the nights I’ve spent here, there’s something different about it this time. Something worse. Maybe it’s the absence of finality…the lack of knowledge. At least after my parent’s had died and Caulder was here, I didn’t question anything. I knew they were dead. I knew Caulder was going to be okay. Even with Julia we knew her death was inevitable. We weren’t left with questions while we waited…we knew what was happening. But this time…this time is much harder. It’s so hard not knowing.
     
    ***
     
    As soon as I begin to doze off, Dr. Bradshaw walks in. I sit up in my chair, but he takes a seat next to me so I don’t stand.
     
    “We’ve moved her to a room in ICU. You’ll be able to visit her in an hour during visiting hours. The scans look good. We’ll try easing her off the anesthesia over time and see what happens. It’s still touch and go, Will. Anything can happen at this point. Getting her to respond to us is our priority now.”
     
    I can feel the relief wash over me, but a new sense of worry creeps in just as fast. “Does…” It feels like my throat is squeezed shut when I try to speak. I grab my bottle of water off the table in front of me and take a drink, then try again to speak. “Does she have a chance? At recovery?”
     
    He sighs. “I can’t answer that. The brain is the most delicate organ in the body. Right now the scans show normal activity, but that may not mean anything when it comes to trying to wake her up. Then again, it could mean she’ll be perfectly fine. Until that moment, we won’t know.” He stands up. “She’s in room five in ICU. Wait until one o’clock before you head down there.”
     
    I nod. “Thank you.”
     
    As soon as I hear him round the corner, I grab my things and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction to ICU. The nurse