Feeling desperate, I message him.
Me:Can I get a mental health status update?
The light by his name switches to green almost instantly, as if he was there holding the phone. It softens the blow just a little. Jordan rarely lets my messages go unanswered. It isn’t much, but heistrying.
Jordan:Here and breathing. I’m better, I think. IDK. You?
I smile weakly. Jordan always asks about me. Like he knows how hard this is for me too.
Me:Here but hurting…I delete that and say,I’m okay. Love you.
Jordan’s silence is not because he doesn’t want to be with me, it’s because he can’t. His body is in hibernation mode while the chemicals settle. I know this. My medical training prepared me for it. But to experience it… fuck. I’ve never really understood how difficult it is for a patient’s loved one. How helpless it makes them feel to see them suffer. In all my patient care, I’ve never felt as useless as I do now. I want to help him, and I can’t.
At his check-up last week, I expected his doctor to say it was time to switch medication, but Dr. Briggs assured him the signs are there and that it’s working.
It had thrown me for a loop. What signs? Jordan hasn’t told me about any signs!
The one small thing I have noticed—God help us both—is his libido is finally peeking through the fog. We had video sex two nights ago, and he was the one who initiated it.
Which brings me back to the oversized box and shiny new dildo. I want him to keep trying, even without me.
I read the messy handwriting on the lid and have a flush of embarrassment.
Jordan’s Box of Love!
I groan. Did I really have to write that?
The box isn’t small either, nor is it poorly planned. It’s top-tier level of boyfriend care.But is it enough?Will it reach him in his darkness? I don’t know. We literally built our relationship through text and video calls, but this is different. It feels impossible.
I dash at some tears. I seem to be crying so much these days, overcome with emotions. I just miss him. I miss Sophie too. And Ana, who is covering in the maternity wing for a few weeks. I still see her, but it’s not the same. She told me yesterday that she’s leaving soon for a position in Washington. On top of that, I miss my family, and as crazy as it is, I miss Jordan’s family too, for the whole one day I got to see them. Declan’s messages have been a lifeline. Piper and Seth check in with me too.
“I’m fine. Everything’s okay.” Maybe if I say it out loud, I’ll believe it. “Jordan is getting better and things will return to normal soon. It’s just time for my big boy pants, that’s all. I can do this.”
Lily jumps down from the couch, turning to look at me with green eyes full of judgment.
I sigh. It’s a sign of how bad things are when I start talking to myself, isn’t it? “If you’d let me hold you…”
She walks away.
“Brat. You’re supposed to be my travel buddy, not my travel diva!”
She doesn’t even respond with a tail flick.
Sitting up, I finish taping and labeling the box. Then I get dressed for work and head out the door. I don’t realize until I’m on the shuttle that I forgot to bring the box with me. Dammit. I was going to mail it from the hospital’s gift shop since they do that sort of thing.
Tomorrow, then. I’ll do it tomorrow.
I meant to do itlast week,but still. Late is better than never, right?
When the shuttle appears in front of the main entrance of the hospital, I paste a smile on my face and get off. A surprise waits for me in my locker, making me pause. I double check the number on the door, confirming I hadn’t accidentally opened someone else’s. 247. Okay. So it is mine, but where’d this sunflower come from?
I pick up the small orange pot, finding a card tucked underneath.
I saw this and thought of you. My little sunshine! Love, Ana. P.S. The hot chocolate on the maternity floor is way better than ours! Come try it!
I crack a smile. Oh, sweet Ana. I needed this. I could definitely use a little hot chocolate today too.
At the nurse’s station, I grab an iPad and log into the employee portal. A message from Administration is in my inbox, marked urgent.
