quiet. When Raymond pulled the car up in front of the hospital, Jack got out and held the door open for me. I followed after him, but before I could step out, Raymond’s voice stopped me with one foot in the car and the other one out on the pavement.
He slung his arm over the passenger seat and turned his body so he could meet my eyes. “You will be fine,” he assured me, his voice soft and quiet. It was the second time I teared up that morning. Everything else had been just automatic. I’d woken up, taken a very quick shower, gotten dressed, grabbed my hospital bag, and walked out of Jack’s apartment. It had almost felt like I was just going to travel somewhere I didn’t necessarily want to go to.
“Okay,” I replied.
Raymond arched his eyebrows. “You can do better than that.”
“I’ll probably be fine.”
“No probably about it. I’ll come up when you’re out of surgery to say hi, all right?”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted anyone to see me after the surgery, but I didn’t say that. “I’d like that. Thank you, Ray.”
“See you soon.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
I got out and, with Jack by my side, walked into the hospital. I cast quick glances at him, but his face looked all stony, like the first day I’d met him. I didn’t know what to say to him. That wasn’t true—I actually did know what to say to him, but it wasn’t the time for it. After we checked in and they confirmed our surgery time, a nurse took us up to a hospital room, apparently not the one I’d be staying in, but a different one.
Jack stayed in the corner with his hands in his pockets. I now knew what that meant: he was nervous about something, unhappy.
The nurse gave me my hospital gown and asked me a whole lot of questions: my name, my age, my weight, the things I was allergic to—all things they already knew, but double-checking never hurt anyone. I was allergic to penicillin. That was the one thing I remembered I kept saying. She put the identification band on me, walked me through what was going to happen next, and left me with Jack so I could change into the gown.
I was like a robot. I went into the little bathroom and took off my clothes, all but my underwear, and put the gown on. My heart hammering in my chest, I stepped out of the bathroom and met Jack’s hard gaze.
Spreading my arms, I tried to sound cheerful when I asked, “How do I look?”
He didn’t answer, just stared into my eyes.
I took a step toward him, because now was the time to say what I needed to say to him. The same nurse who had been in just a few minutes earlier popped her head through the doorway, and both Jack and I glanced at her.
“Is she dressed? Oh, good, you’re ready. I’m sending someone in to get you in the wheelchair.”
“I, uh, can I have just a quick minute with my husband?”
Her eyes darted to Jack then she checked her watch. “Just one minute. We need to get you to the OR on time, okay?”
I nodded, and she left.
Letting out a deep, deep breath, I walked over to where Jack was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest.
“I have some things I want to say to you,” I started, feeling a little sick and very small in front of him. It could’ve been the thin hospital gown, the surgery, nerves, or simply because of what I was about to tell him. I ran my hands up and down my arms and his eyes followed my movements.
He was silent for a full minute as we took in our fill of each other.
“Okay,” he finally said, looking all miserable.
“Jack, I want us to—”
“I’m sorry, but they need to take you now,” the nurse said, walking into the room with someone else trailing behind her with a wheelchair.
Oh, dammit! Things just got real.
The fear that spiked in me wasn’t much different than my panic attack in the MRI machine, and I looked back at Jack with fear in my eyes. I really wanted to talk to him.
He straightened up off the wall. “We’ll need another minute.”
“We’re already running behind. She—”
Jack walked over and took the wheelchair from the other woman’s hands then turned to the nurse, gritting his teeth. “I need just a moment with my wife. Please.”