Page 111 of Sweet Heart

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It is almost midnight when I finally step back into my office, the events of the day pressing down on me like a weighted blanket. We lost twenty-one patients today, five of them children, more than half of the casualties that came in. The numbers have never been this high, but then again… we have never experienced a plane crash before, either.

The fallout was horrible. All the passengers were dead on impact except for one young boy. Thirteen years old, his leg ripped clean off him, and somehow, he managed to stay conscious for the whole ride. He lost everything in that crash. His parents, his sister, and the only uncle he had left were all pronounced dead while the paramedics were working on stabilizing him. He will not only have vivid flashbacks of the crash, but will also have to deal with survivor’s guilt. This boy will carry that moment with him until his very last day.

I run my hand over my face and sink into the chair. My head throbs, my back aches, and I can’t even feel my feet anymore. I’m completely and utterly spent. Even my emotions have been drained out of me.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and stare at the black screen for a good two minutes before I realize I need to actually turn it on to see something. My thumb flicks over it, revealing a missed from my parents, a voicemail from an unknown number, and a text from Mary.

04:13 p.m. – Mary Mary

Hey, baby, I know you will not see this until after, but I didn’t want you to sit with it alone. I have no idea what has happened or how bad it was, but I know it wasn’t good. And I know you will feel that. Take whatever time you need. I will be here. If you want me to come to the hospital, let me know.

04:15 p.m. – Mary Mary

Te quiero

Despite my state, my lips tick up in a brief smile. My fingers dart over the keyboard.

00:03 a.m. – Katherina

Te quiero también, amor. I’ll be home soon.

I tuck my phone away, remove my coat, and take off my sneakers. The benefit of having your own office is not having to use the changing room every single day. I slide into my heels, wincing a little at the protest of my feet, and pull on my jacket before I slip out the door. The movements are mechanical, like I am on autopilot. I don’t stop to question it. This is what will get me home, what will get me to Mary. And right now, that’s the only thing I want to be thinking about.

I shuffle through the now nearly deserted and quiet hallway. The two nurses at the night station look equally exhausted. Their jaws are tight, their eyes glued to the screens, the silence laced with the fragility of dropped cortisol and insulin levels. They still nod as I walk past them. Days like today bring us all closer, and in this moment, I’m feeling it more than ever. I take out my phone again, open the Domino’s app, and order a dozen pizzas to be delivered to the bay before pushing through the door.

The waiting room is still filled with people. Patients who likely had to wait the whole day to see somebody and at one point refused to go home because they’d already wasted all that time. I’d almost pity them if it weren’t for them now keeping the night crew slammed as well, which will result in a backed-up queue in the morning. At least they had the decency to be hushed in the lull of the night.

I’m so tired that I don’t even register the ride home. I really shouldn’t be driving in these conditions, but all I want is to crawl into bed with Mary instead of spending the night in some on-call room.

When I open the door, the warm light washes over me, and the scent of garlic and tomatoes wafts toward me. There is a soft humming in the kitchen, and when I find my way there, Mary is swaying her hips to some imaginary music while stirring something in a pan. It smells divine. I walk over and slide my arms around her waist. She startles for a breath, but then relaxes back into me.

“Hola, mi amor. You are still awake.”

“Hi, baby,” she hums and turns her head so that she can kiss the corner of my mouth. “I just wanted you to have something warm to put in your stomach after today.”

I gaze at her, my eyes pricking with tears that have no business showing up.

“You cooked for me, even though you didn’t know what time I’d be home?”

“Of course,” she states simply. “Or, well… I tried.”

Her voice is more hesitant now, and I quirk a questioning eyebrow.

“I made ropa vija, but it is my first time, so I’m not sure if it is any good. I mean, it tastes good to me, but what do I know? I only had the—”

I cut her off with a deep, hard kiss, turning her in my arms so I can pull her closer against me. I squeeze my eyes closed, but the tears fall anyway. What did you do to get this lucky, Katherina? I don’t know what, but I’m happy I did.

Chapter 40

Mary

“Ay, guapas, estáis aquí. About time, no?”

Carmen’s face beams up at us as we enter the small strip of sand. It’s still early, so other than her and Isa, the beach is still deserted. But the sun is already smiling down on us, warming my skin with the promise of a hot day. This place will be filled with families in no time. It isn’t a real beach, not in the truest sense of the word, but it has fluffy white sand and clear water to swim in, which is good enough for me.

“Miss us?” I grin while I lean over to kiss her cheek.