“Come in.” Tori’s voice filters through the door as I push it open to find her in a large hospital bed, wearing a gown that drowns her tiny frame. Her long, dark hair hangs limply around her face and cascades down her shoulders. Her skin is pale like a porcelain doll, and her eyes look like they’ve somehow grown bigger. She looks tired, hollow, a shell of her former self, but she can steal my breath away with her natural beauty and aura that no tragedy could take from her, because beneath it all, she is still Tori, and I’d fight so hard to help pull her to the surface again.
"Hi,” I say softly with a small wave.
She places the spoon she was eating her pudding with on the table and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, clearing her throat before speaking. “Noah, hi.” She gives me a weak smile, and I fight the urge to scoop her up and protect her.
“Hey, I hope it’s okay to stop by. I wanted to see how you were,” I say nervously, feeling a bead of sweat forming on my forehead.
“Of course. It’s good to see you.” Her eyes fall to the brown paper-wrapped flowers in my hand.
I lift them, taking slow steps towards her bed, and hold them out to her. “These are for you.”
A flicker of light shines in her eyes, and a little pink dusts her cheeks as she looks at them.
“You brought me daisies?” she questions, taking the bouquet and sniffing them.
“Uh, yeah. I asked the lady in the flower shop for something that would make someone smile.”
She beams at me. “Mission accomplished.”
I grin as I take a seat beside her bed. To my surprise, she leans over and presses a featherlight kiss to my cheek, leaving the skin hot and tingling.
“Thank you. That was really sweet of you. You’ve made my whole day.”
Warmth spreads across my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone’s day.
A silence falls between us, and I tap the heels of my military-style boots against the hard, shiny floor and glance around.
“Nice room.”
Nice room? That’s all I can say?
“It’s okay.”
Just when I think my mundane shit talk can’t get any worse, I ask, “How’s the food?”
She presses her lips together as if she’s fighting back a smile.
“The food is terrible. I’d do anything for something that didn’t look as anemic as me.” She points to a half-eaten plate of chicken, some questionable mashed potatoes, and some green beans that have been over-boiled and are more gray than green.
I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, that looks like it’s seen better days.”
She holds up an empty pudding cup. “God bless the chocolate pudding,” she says with a lightness in her voice I haven’t heard in a very long time.
Another awkward silence falls, and I shuffle uncomfortably in my hard plastic seat. I hate this; this isn’t us. There are so many questions I want to ask her and things I want to say, but I don’t want to upset her or dredge up the past week’s events unless she wants to. We both know why she’s in here, and I’m sure she’s told the same story over and over. I want to give her space to breathe, a safe place to land, and a break from her reality.
I reach into my back pocket for the pack of playing cards I always carry with me and toss them onto the table in front of her.
“Any game. You pick,” I say as I point to the pack. She lifts them and inspects the battered, torn box. This pack of cards has traveled all over the world and been my relief when my mind has needed a rest.
“Do you usually just walk around with a deck of cards in your back pocket?”
I nod in confirmation. “A wise man once said, carry a deck of cards with you at all times, and you’ll never be bored a day in your life.” I pluck the pack from her hands and slide the cards out, and begin shuffling.
“Your choice, Tor. What are we playing?”
We’ve played for hours. Solitaire, Go Fish, Gin Rummy, Cribbage—we have done them all. I could have won every one, but I wanted to let her have some wins. Watching her facelight up when she beat me did something to me. We kept the conversation light, no deep questions, no mention of why she was here. If she wanted to open up to me, I’d listen. Being here distracted me from my own thoughts. I couldn’t tell you if I’d had time to process and mourn Scotty yet. Aside from that night on the bathroom floor with Brad, it’s the only time I have let myself feel. I just have to push aside the nightmares. In my line of work, there wasn’t time or space to grieve. You acknowledge, accept, and then get back to what you do best: the job you trained to do.
There’s a tap at the door, and a doctor in a long white coat and holding a clipboard enters the room with a nurse dressed in blue scrubs.
