The Longest Ride

get lost in the hustle and bustle of the hospital. She wanted to hand it to the doctor, or better yet, to Ira himself…

Or that was what she told herself, anyway. All she really knew was that the almost peaceful expression Ira had been wearing when they found him made her wonder what he’d been thinking or dreaming about. It was miraculous that he’d survived his injuries given his age and frail state. Most of all, she wondered why, to this point, no friends or family had come bursting through the doors of the emergency room, frantic with worry. He’d been conscious when they’d wheeled him in, which meant Ira probably could have told them to call someone. So where were they? Why weren’t they here yet? At a time like this, Ira needed someone more than ever, and —

Luke shifted in his seat, interrupting her thoughts. “You know that we’re probably not going to be able to see him, right?” he asked.

“I know,” she said. “But I still want to know how he’s doing.”

“Why?”

She turned over the letter in her hands, still unable to put the reasons into words. “I don’t know.”
     

     
    Another forty minutes passed before a doctor finally emerged from behind the swinging doors. He went first to the desk and then, after the nurse pointed them out, approached them. Luke and Sophia stood.

“I’m Dr. Dillon,” he said. “I was told that you’ve been waiting for a chance to visit Mr. Levinson?”

“Do you mean Ira?” Sophia asked.

“You’re the ones who found him, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask what your interest is?”

Sophia almost told the doctor about the letter then but didn’t. Luke sensed her confusion and cleared his throat. “I guess we just want to know that he’s going to be okay.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t discuss his condition since you’re not family,” he said.

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

The doctor looked from one to the other. “By all rights, you shouldn’t even be here. You did the right thing by calling the ambulance. And I’m glad you found him when you did, but you don’t have any further responsibility. You’re strangers.”

Sophia looked at the doctor, sensing he had more to say, watching as he finally sighed.

“I don’t really know what’s going on here,” Dr. Dillon said, “but for whatever reason, when Mr. Levinson heard you were here, he asked to see you. I can’t tell you anything about his condition, but I must ask that you keep the visit as short as possible.”
     

     
    Ira appeared even smaller than he had in the car, as though he’d shrunk in the last few hours. He lay in the partially reclined hospital bed, his mouth agape, his cheeks hollow, IV lines snaking out of his arm. A machine next to his bed was beeping in rhythm to his heart.

“Not too long,” the doctor warned, and Luke nodded before the two of them entered the room. Hesitating, Sophia moved to the side of the bed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Luke pull a chair away from the wall and slide it toward her before stepping back again. Sophia took a seat by the bed and leaned into his field of vision.

“We’re here, Ira,” she said, holding the letter in front of him. “I have your letter for you.”

Ira inhaled with some effort, slowly rolling his head. His eyes went first to the letter and then to her. “Ruth…”

“Yes,” she said. “Your letter to Ruth. I’m going to put it right here beside you, okay?”

At her comment, he stared without focus, uncomprehending. Then his face softened, becoming almost sad. He moved his hand slightly, trying to reach hers, and on instinct, she reached over and took it.

“Ruth,” he said, tears beginning to form. “My sweet Ruth.”

“I’m sorry… I’m not Ruth,” she said softly. “My name is Sophia. We’re the ones who found you today.”

He blinked, then blinked again, his confusion evident.

“Ruth?”

The plea in his tone made her throat tighten.

“No,” she said quietly, watching as he moved his hand and inched it toward the letter. She understood what he was doing and slid the letter toward him. He took it, lifting it as though it were an enormous weight, pushing it toward her hand. Only then did she notice Ira’s tears. When he spoke, his voice sounded stronger, the words clear for the first time. “Can you be?”

She fingered the letter. “You want me to read this? The letter you wrote to your wife?”

His gaze met her eyes, a tear spilling down his