He smiles at me, squeezes my shoulder gently, and then walks away. The images of seeing my dad dragged out of that hole in the ground, barely alive, will haunt me for as long as I’m living. I know that. But, all I need is for him to stay with me, so I can build more memories, and so I can forgive him. So, I can forgive myself.
I get up and walk over to Fynn. He doesn’t lift his gaze, even though he knows I’m sitting next to him.
“We found him,” I tell him, as if it’s news and he has no idea.
Only now does he look up at me. “But, look at the condition we found him in.”
“My dad is a tough guy,” I smile, trying to convince us both of this. “He’ll make it.”
“We were supposed to make sure this didn’t happen,” Fynn tells me.
“Listen to me now,” I suddenly take his hands into mine forcefully, like I’m taking back something that was always mine, but he only held it for a little while. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not. You did exactly what you were supposed to do and exactly how you were supposed to do it. It’s only thanks to you and Anderson that I’m alive, that my dad is finally safe in a hospital, and he can start healing.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. He only shakes his head. I know he doesn’t believe me.
“I didn’t do my job. I failed you again. I failed all of you.”
“That’s not true,” I assure him. “You can’t be held responsible for everything someone else does. It’s not your responsibility to predict the actions of others.”
“But, it is to try and counteract them. That’s my job as a cop.”
“And, you did exactly that!”
“You saved me. It wasn’t the other way around,” he looks down, as if he’s ashamed of this.
His reaction makes me sad. Not because I wanted him to be all grateful, but I simply wanted him to appreciate what I had done. I wanted him to realize how much it took of myself to do that. However, he doesn’t feel anything apart from remorse.
“I’m sorry you see it that way,” I whisper. “In the end, does it really matter who saves who, if the good guys win?”
I don’t wait for him to reply. Instead, I get up and see Anderson walking over with three cups of that poor excuse of a coffee in his hands.
“Here you guys go,” he smiles. “A fresh batch of bat piss for everyone.”
I chuckle, and look at him gratefully.
“What happened here?”
He glances over at Fynn, but before I can tell him anything a nurse walks over to us.
“Miss Holloway?” She smiles at me cordially, bringing some more of that painful whiteness with her.
She has a slick ponytail, and a very minimum amount of makeup. Still, she looks refreshed. Definitely not like someone who works in a hospital, and who we just caught on night shift.
“Yes?” I turn to face her, my heart trembling with fear at what she is about to tell me.
“Your father has been taken care of,” she starts slowly, accentuating every word, like it’s something she has rehearsed for a play. In a way, she has. “He is in the special care unit on the third floor – “
“Can I see him?” I interrupt her, but she remains calm and polite.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible tonight. The doctor needed to put him into an induced coma. This was necessary for the purposes of reaching a level of sedation that is referred to as burst suppression.”
She keeps talking like a teacher explaining a tough math problem to her students for the third time in a row. Still with a soft smile on her face and still with the same level of patience.
“There has been significant swelling in the brain, which results in painful pressure and damage of the brain tissue. Your father’s brain needs to rest, so that his entire body may recover and so that his brain swelling reduces. His brain is fully sedated for a few seconds, then it forces itself into a few seconds of activity bursts. His brain is kept active, but at the same time, these periods of rest are crucial for his healing process.”
“When will he wake up?”
“That depends on the speed of his recovery,” she explains. “We can’t give any estimates. It can be anywhere from a few days to a few months. Sometimes, it’s even years.”
“Years?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” she speaks, pressing her thin lips together, expressing regret.
“Can I just see him? I won’t talk to him. Just through the glass,” I plead.
The nurse’s lips part, probably in an effort to find a polite way to refuse my request, but she sees the tears in my eyes. She hears the pain in my voice.
“Just through the window,” she finally agrees. “And, just for a few seconds.”
“Of course,” I nod quickly. “Will you guys wait for me here?”
Fynn and Anderson nod, as I wave a little awkwardly, allowing the nurse to lead me to the third floor. While riding the elevator, she turns to me.
“You’re lucky. You brought him in just in time.”
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was this close to losing him. I’m still close, but I won’t let go. I’ll hold on til the very last breath in my body.
“Also, I haven’t mentioned it, but I shall need to report this to the police. Gunshot wounds are always reported.”
“Those two men with me are police officers,” I explain, as the door pings and opens up for us, letting us out.
“Then, they can sort it out with the officer on duty,” she nods.
“Of course,” I smile. “We have nothing to hide.”
She looks at me, as if she’s trying to find out if I’m lying or not. Her gaze is long and steady. I wonder how many patients she saw dying. Did she see something in their eyes? Did she see the window to their soul?
She turns away without another word, and leads me to the room at the end of a quiet, and much less busy hallway. She stops in front of a small, rectangular window.
“This is your father’s room.”
She steps a little to the side, so I can take a look inside. As I do so, I gasp silently. His head is wrapped up. There is a tube coming out of his mouth. An IV is connected to his right arm. The machines in the room, next to his bed, are beeping steadily. I press my hand to my lips.
I remember getting my appendix out when I was a girl. I was petrified of the operation, and even more so because they said that neither of my parents could spend the night at the hospital. They could be there all day, but at night, they’d needed to let me rest. My mom promised me all the ice cream I could eat once I got out. And, she made good on that promise. But, dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at me in my hospital pajamas and at the place where the wound was, underneath the covers. He didn’t speak much, but he hugged me and kissed me much more than usual. I never thought much of it before. But, now, it all makes sense.
Seeing your loved one in this situation brings out something in you, something primal, some primordial fear about the fleetingness of life, and the fact that it takes one single second to erase us from the chronicles of this life. It’s that easy. And, while you’re walking the streets out in the world, this knowledge is in the back of your mind. You barely pay any attention to it. But, when you’re at the hospital, the constant reminders are there, right in front of you, and no matter how hard you want to close your eyes, they don’t go away.