And then I hold her as the evening light falls from the sky, and the clouds roll in heavy and dark through the hospital window.
I hold her until my arms ache, and I feel the steady, slow breathing of sleep overtake her.
And then I hold her, still.
When she wakes again, Rae and I are ready for her. We have fresh food, the good coffee from the café down the street, and thanks to Bea, her favorite fuzzy throw from Pearson House to replace the scratchy, standard hospital-issued blanket.
Bea had also dropped off a bottle of Rombauer Sauvignon Blanc, despite Rae’s blatant judgement and commentary of “thisis a fucking hospital, you wino.” But Bea had been insistent that just seeing the wine would help make Katherine feel better. And who am I to argue with a best friend?Bea had been here whenever she could in between patients.
So, the bottle had stayed and is now featured prominently next to a few get well soon cards and a large vase of flowers sent over from the other therapists in her office.
Kat stirs and Rae helps her sit upright, gently brushing her long hair back over her shoulders. Once she is situated with plenty of pillows behind her, Kat readily accepts the food and coffee. I watch her with renewed hope. Each time she sleeps, she wakes with more life behind her eyes, more color in her cheeks and lips.
She’s going to be alright.
We are going to be alright.
The headline fromThe Seattle Timesscreams out from the page where it lays folded on the edge of Katherine’s bed:
“TERROR RETURNS: DEMON OF THE PNW ESCAPES TO EXACT REVENGE.”
Kat’s eyes immediately fall to the newspaper, and she reaches for it.
“Are you sure you want to read it?” I ask.
“Why not,” she replies. And holds out her other hand for her glasses.
I nod as I hand them to her.She’s got this.
Realizing that Kat isn’t going to freak, Rae excuses herself to head downstairs to return a work call. I turn my attention back to Kat, watching her eyes quickly scan over the article. She mouths a few words and rolls her eyes once or twice.
“Dr. Pearson has denied providing a comment at the time of this article’s publishing… Yeah, no shit, I’ve been mostly unconscious, haven’t I? Fucking assholes,” she murmurs under her breath. But despite it all, a good-natured little smile plays across her lips.
In the beginning we were swarmed by reporters and media outlets. Law enforcement wanted Kat’s official statement on her kidnapping and any comments she could provide from her evaluation of Eastman. I think Kat was borderline catatonic for most of it. It took me looming over the detective and fixing him with aback the fuck offglare for them to finally leave Katherine be.
And she has been different since that night. Since I pulled her up from that well. It’s as if her worst fear coming true has set something free inside of her.
She is fearless now.
I toss the newspaper aside and fix her with a warm smile. The smile is bittersweet, as I know we still have a tough conversation ahead of us. I need to talk to her about her father. I need to explain myself. I owe her that. No more running. No more hiding. No more lurking in the shadows.
“Katherine,” I start. “Look, about your father’s diagnosis...”
“It’s okay, Zayn, really,” she says, cutting me off. “You don’t need to.”
“But Idoneed to, baby. I owe you this.”
She sighs. “The only thing you owe me is a new pair of black Sarah Flint heels. Size eight.”
Huh?My brow cocks and I shoot her a quizzical look.
“Never mind, baby,” she says, taking a small sip of her coffee, and humming in approval.
Still confused, I shake my head and start again. “So, about your father, Kat…”
“You two knew each other,” she inserts.
“Well, yes,” I say, “I knew Mr. Pearson. I spent a great deal of time with him before he died. Every week, we’d play chess. He talked openly with me about his diagnosis. When he decided that he wanted a second opinion, I gave him the name of the doctor who had treated my mother, when she fell sick. Although her treatment was ultimately unsuccessful, I had appreciated how Dr. Wagner treated my mother with dignity and such loving kindness. I wanted to offer the same care to your father if he chose to take it. Which as you now know, he did.”
