It’s going to be a long fucking day.
10
MILES
Jordan sent me some of his writing?
I sit up, clutching the phone as I read every hand-written line slowly and carefully.
Then I read it again.
At first, it sounds like a moody fragment of a forgotten tale, something abstract and poetic, which is exactly what I would expect from Jordan. But the more I read it, the more I hear the deeper message.
Charlie stood at the edge of an impossible divide, miles laid out before him. Fractures of light glittered against the jagged rock—a warning and a beckoning. He had a choice to make, but a deadly one. One wrong move, one slip, and he would be lost to eternal darkness.
I can feel it in my chest—this isn’t about some sci-fi character in some half-formed story. It’s about him. Aboutus.Thatimpossible divide? That isn’t metaphorical. It’s the vast distance between San Diego and Salt Lake City. It’s his depression. How he doesn’t believe it’ll work or if he can handle a trip to see me.
He’d even usedmyname. Miles. Not distance. Not terrain.Miles.As if I’m the one laid out on the other side, beckoning him…and he wants to go.
Fractures of lightare words of hope, yet they’re clouded in his uncertainty.
I touch my lips, overwhelmed. I want to cry at these words. That’smyJordan, fighting with himself without even realizing it.
Does he really think this is useless? Just a scrap piece of writing? No. God, no. This is a scream from the depths of his soul. He’s telling me, without telling me, that he wants to be with me, but is too afraid to take the first move. He wants to change, but he’s so damn scared of falling back into that darkness.
And I get it. I really do. One wrong move, one slip, and he thinkshewill disappear into nothingness. He’d hinted at being suicidal in his past. If that’s true, I wouldn’t blame him for being afraid now.
I read it three more times, crying. I’m such a jerk. I’d told him I’d wait for him, yet Jordan knew he might never be ready to come to me. He wants to, but he can’t. Which means I need to go to him.
I can’t do that without first coming up with a plan. Can I even take time off? I’ve never tried outside of scheduling a week or two between rotations. Maybe I don’t need to take time off, though. Maybe I just need a couple of days. I can fly down after work, take a red eye, then arrive on his doorstep and—okay, no. That’s stupid. I’d be dead on my feet by the time I got there, and what kind of first impression would that make? He’d definitely tuck tail and run.
Besides, I don’t even know where he lives. But Idoknow where he works. I’ve peeked at his profile enough to know the name of his bar. It’s the only public post he’s shared.
If I can get a ride from the airport, I can just go there, right? Meet him at work? Except, that means meeting Jordan in front ofeveryonehe cares about too.In front of all of his friends and coworkers. Would he want that? DoIwant that?
Oh, screw it. I don’t care. I’m probably going to meet his friends at some point anyway, if this goes well. If it doesn’t, well… I’ll catch an early flight back here.
Maybe I can talk Ana into taking my shift this Saturday. That could work, couldn’t it? Gives us a few days. It’s not ideal, but it would be less intimidating. Because Jordan isn’t the only one who’s scared about meeting in person. I am too. For different reasons, but Iamscared.
When I get to work that afternoon, I go straight to Ruth’s room without stopping at the locker room. Something tells me I’m out of time to give her the gift.
The light is on, and someone pulled the privacy curtains open, exposing her room through the tall glass panels. I stop in my tracks when I see a team of doctors standing around her bed. But to my relief, they seem happy. Dr. Mullins, Dr. Nelson, and Dr. Springsteen are smiling and nodding at her, and Ruth is smiling too. Bigger than I’ve ever seen.
As I get closer to the door, I notice a middle-aged woman dressed in plain clothes standing in a corner. She has dark brown hair, glasses, and a petite frame. She looks slightly terrified to be there.
I slip in through the door but quietly stand to the side, not wanting to be in the way.
“…yes, everything checks out and you’re free to go,” Dr. Nelson says. “Do you have a ride home?”
The middle-aged woman takes a tentative step closer. “Y-yes. She does. I’ll drive her.”
When they all seem confused, the woman adds, “I’m Cora. Ruth’s daughter.”
Warmth spreads through me. Ruth called her, then. Good for her.
“Okay. Good.” Dr. Nelson touches Ruth’s shoulder briefly. “Take care, Ruth. We don’t want to see you back here any time soon. Make sure to go to those follow-up appointments.”
“I will. Thank you.”
