Throwing the truck in gear, I tore out of the parking lot and got us on the highway in record time. My eyes were drawn to the rearview mirror, watching her as she laid her head on Macie’s lap. They were talking quietly, and I strained to hear some of what they said.
“I should have stayed and helped you,” Macie said, crying softly as she rubbed Ava’s cheek while holding the towels against her wrist.
“I told you to go, it’s not your fault. All of this is my fault. All of it. I shouldn’t have thrown the glass, then this wouldn’t have happened.”
Glass?
I wasn’t about to ask questions, but maybe I jumped to conclusions.
Ten minutes, and I had her at the ER entrance. Jumping into action, I tore the back door open and carried her through the automatic doors of the hospital.
“We need help!” I screamed. “She’s bleeding badly, most likely from an artery.”
Nurses surrounded us immediately, a gurney pulled alongside for her to be placed on, but then she was whisked away.
Then Macie and I were left alone.
We moved to the waiting area together, sitting quietly amongst the other people. I knew I should ask her what happened, but I think I was scared to hear the truth.
I eventually worked up the nerve.
“How did she get cut, Macie?”
Macie put her face in her hands, distraught.
“We argued a little, and she threw a glass in the sink. It shattered everywhere, she must have cut herself cleaning it up. I wanted to stay and help, but she told me to go upstairs.”
My hands pressed against my eyes, trying to relieve the pressure, or stop the tears, I wasn’t sure which. The stifled cry that came from me had Macie shifting in her seat.
I turned toward her, her eyes wide at my appearance.
“So it was an accident?” I squeaked out.
The reality of my question hit her immediately.
“Yes,” she said, reaching for my arm, a simple gesture of support.
And I broke. The whole week came out. Our whole past couple months. Tears fell, loud cries muffled were against her shoulder as she pulled me to her. She held me, no questions asked, which I was thankful for. Once I calmed down, she remained quiet, the two of us sitting in solitude.
An hour had passed, and that made me nervous. If it had been simple stitches, I felt as though she would have been done. My concern was she needed surgery to fix the damage.
“Friends of Ava Kennedy?” A nurse stood in the doorway of the waiting area, looking around.
We stood, our hands in the air, to get her attention.
“She’s asking for you both,” she said. “She’ll be OK to go home, but probably not for a couple hours. They want to watch her for a bit due to the blood loss.” She started walking away, so we followed her. “Does she have any family nearby, or only friends?”
“Just friends, she goes to school here,” I said.
“Her family is about four hours away,” Macie responded.
“I’m sure one of the other nurses contacted her parents, I was just checking,” the nurse said as we continued following her through a maze of hallways and curtained off rooms. We got to a small cornered off area. “She’s in here. She needed a blood transfusion, and she’s on an IV. She’s stitched up, but requested a sedative for the stitches, so she’s a little groggy still.”
The nurse pulled back the curtain, and Ava was curled up in the bed. She looked so tiny as she lay on the gurney, the blue and white gown tied at her neck. Her eyes popped open at the sound of the curtain sliding on the metal rings, but she didn’t move.
Macie rushed to her side, and I let them have their time, moving out to the main area. It was busy, doctors and nurses rushing about from patient to patient. It made me want to findthe nurse or doctor who worked on Ava and personally thank them.
“Logan.” Macie startled me. “Can I use your truck to head back to the house? She wants some clothes to go home in, the others are kinda trashed.”
