“I suppose I could dothat.”
“I figured since you’re already in yourpajamas…”
“I’m naked,” I tellhim.
“I know.” He wraps himself around me, embracing my body with his. “I likethis.”
Now settled down without intention of moving, he grabs the remote and turns the TV on, which immediately brings up the comedy channel. I would have to watch comedy before bed too if I saw what he sees everyday.
I fall asleep in the crook of his arm and chest, inhaling the fresh soap scent on his skin as if it werearomatherapy.
Without knowing what time it is, based on the darkness outside his window, I’m startled when Jackson’s phone rings on the nightstand. It shouldn’t come as a surprise since he’s a doctor, and I’m sure he’s on call at times, but my heart pounds with curiosity and a nervousness I shouldn’t feel fromassumptions.
I look around for a clock, but the only one is across the room on his cable box, and it’s blurry from all the way over here. “Beck,” heanswers.
He rubs his hand over his eyes, pressing his thumb against his temple. Jackson looks over to his side, and I look too, finding an alarm clock showing that it’s two in the morning. “Yes, stabilize her, and I’ll be there in twenty.” He looks over at me with an expression I can’t read, but it makes me more nervous. “No, she does not have a DNR on record, so continueefforts.”
The moment Jackson disconnects his call, he’s out of bed, grabbing his boxer briefs and slipping into his bathroom for a quick second. “Take a deep breath,” he tells me as hereturns.
“I can’t. It’s my grandmother, isn’tit?”
“You’re coming with me, but I need you to breathe because I haven’t heard you take a breath in at least thirty-seconds.”
“What is it, Jackson?” There’s panic among my breaths, but the panic is louder than the minimal air escaping mylungs.
“She wanted to go for an unassisted walk and fell. It sounds like she may have dislodged the pacemaker, but I won’t know for sure until I getthere.”
“Is she alive?” I cryout.
“They’re keeping heralive.”
Jackson is dressed in a clean pair of scrubs within a minute, and I’m still sitting in his bed, wrapped in a sheet. Since I’m in shock and haven’t found a way to move, he helps me dress. “Come on,” hesays.
I’m shaking so hard, I’m having trouble standing, but Jackson takes my hand tightly within his, holding me up with his other hand as we make it to the front door. He leaves me to lean against the wall for a moment as he grabs my bag, diary, and his bag, then returns to my side, helping me out as if I’m completelybroken.
“Jackson.” I keep sputtering his name with nothing to follow. He doesn’t have answers, but I want them. “I need her to be okay. I’m not ready to saygoodbye.”
“I know, Emma,” he says as the elevator closes us inside. With the bags draped over his shoulders, he faces me and smooths my hair out, pulling it together behind my shoulders. His knuckles then tend to my falling tears and his hands cup around my cheeks, forcing me to look up at him through the blurriness. “I will do whatever I can forher.”
“I know,” I mumble through a weakmoan.
The doors to the elevator open, and I hardly feel my feet touch the ground as Jackson guides me over to the passenger door of his car. “I thought the pacemaker was put in to regulate her arrhythmia if it happened. How could it cause her heart to stop if it’s notworking?”
“I don’t want to give you any answers until I have them. He leans in quickly and places a kiss on my cheek before closing thedoor.”
We drive much faster through the city then I’ve ever driven before, and we whip into the parking lot with available spaces up front. I jump out of the car as fast as he does, even though I know I’ll be stopped at some point since I won’t be allowed in there again. More waiting than I can stand.I have to call Momtoo.
The elevator brings us to the ICU floor, and Jackson stops briefly, gazing at me with pain encircling his eyes. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you in there. It’s protocol.” He hands me my bag and opens the door to the waitingroom.
I nod through my quivering chin and walk into the empty space I’ve become all too familiar with thisweek.
After placing my bag down, I pull out my phone and dial mom’snumber.
She’s groggy and sounds confused when she answers the phone. “Mom,” I say softly, trying not to startle her more than I probably already have. “Grams fell, and I need you to come down to thehospital.”
“What?” she shouts. “Why didn’t they call me? Did they call me? Did I miss a call? When did this happen? Emma, is sheokay?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I just need you to get down here, okay? Please drive carefully…please.”
She hangs up the phone without a goodbye, and I know she’ll be driving like a maniac down the highway. I’ll be worried sick until she gets here—I don’t want anything to happen toher.
My mind is spinning, and I can’t think of any way to calm myself down other than pacing the room a hundred times before my knees start to ache. I know Jackson will tell me something as soon as he knows, but I’m not sure how long it will be before thathappens.
I finally drop down into one of the chairs. My foot catches on the handle of my bag, and it falls over, spilling Grams’s diary out onto the floor. As I lean down to pick it up, I contemplate whether I can stand to read it right at the moment. Her story doesn’t making me feel better, it only reminds me of how much she has survived though, and how ridiculous it would be for her to die from her heart of steel after everything she hasexperienced.
Will she escape death a second time? I curl into my seat, holding onto hope as I impulsively reopen thediary.
