34. Omar
Chapter thirty-four
Omar
Emily and I sat in the NICU waiting area with a few other parents. She refused to leave the safety of my arms, though her sobs had quieted, and her breathing had returned to normal. We both looked a wreck, fitting in with those around us. In that moment, nothing about me spoke of nursing or medical knowledge. I’d somehow become the people I saw every day whose families clung to the thinnest threads of hope.
A blur of blond in the doorway heralded Matty’s arrival. His arms were around me faster than I could stand. Emily barely looked up.
“Emily,” I said, finally getting her to ease back into her chair. “This is Matty. He is an ER nurse here. We are . . . well . . . I don’t know what to call whatever we are. We haven’t really given ‘us’ a name yet.’”
She looked from me to Matty, then a tiny smile, like the sun peeking through the blackest of clouds, slipped free.
“He’s your boyfriend,” she said. “That’s obvi.”
Despite the gravity of the moment, Matty snickered. I elbowed him.
“Labels are not important right now.” I shot Matty a “don’t go there right now” glare. “We are here for you and Josh. You aren’t going through this alone. Do you hear me?”
I hadn’t meant to inject my “I’m the boss here” tone into my words, but there was no room to argue after I spoke. A wide-eyed young girl nodded and looked at Matty.
“What he said.” He reached out, gripped her arm, and smiled. “And yeah, I’m scared of him, too, especially when he uses that voice.”
Emily, despite herself, laughed. God, I loved that man.
“Emily, where is your family?” I asked after a moment. “Is there anyone we should call?”
I felt stupid asking that. How long had I been visiting Josh? How had I never asked her about her family? What an idiot I was.
She shook her head. “My parents died when I was little. It’s just me now.”
Something crossed before her eyes, and tears welled as she added, “Me and Josh.”
Matty, the one of us who hadn’t been involved to this point, corrected her. “You and Josh and Omar and me.”
Pain and grief was slowly replaced by something strange, an expression of confusion or bewilderment or . . . awe? I couldn’t tell, but Emily didn’t look away or argue. She nodded and reached up to grip Matty’s hand, which was still holding her arm.
How long did the three of us sit there holding each other? I couldn’t say. It felt like forever—and it felt right.
“Emily?” a male voice, sounding equal parts clinical and compassionate, asked. The three of us looked up to find a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and thick glasses. He wore the lab coat of a physician and the sympathetic face of a father.
Emily wiped her face. “Doc? Is Josh—?”
“He’s all right.” The doctor dropped into an uncomfortable squat before Emily. “Sometimes babies that premature have trouble.”
“Like a heart attack?” she asked.
“No, nothing like that. Josh didn’t have a heart attack.” The doctor smiled and shook his head. He searched for words a moment, probably trying to translate medical speak into frightened teenage mom, then said, “You already know his organs haven’t fully formed.”
Emily nodded.
“Well,” the doc continued. “That creates some problems when the body needs to . . . do all the things a body does. Your body is formed. It knows what to do. Each part has a job and does it well. Josh’s parts are trying, but they aren’t . . . how can I say this? They aren’t able to do their job as well as they will once he’s . . . formed . . . grown. Yes, grown is a better word.”
“But, what happened? The nurses looked so serious.”
He nodded. “We all want Josh to heal and grow, so we take even the smallest thing seriously. Your nurses did everything right to help him.”
Emily’s eyes darted from the doctor to me. It looked like she was at a loss for questions or what to say next, so I stepped in.
“Doctor, can you help us”—I felt awkward saying “us” right then—“understand what just happened and how Josh is right now?”
He looked to Emily, who blinked wide eyes, then sighed. “Josh is stable and sleeping. I gave him something to knock him out, so don’t expect him to wake up for quite a while. As with all preemies, he needs rest more than anything. His nurses will be visiting more frequently, so don’t let that alarm you.”
“But is he okay?” a small girl asked.
The doc hesitated, then said, “He is. For now.” He checked his pager, then glanced up. “I need to go. Josh is in good hands. Just let him rest, all right?”
Emily nodded as the doctor stood. To both Emily’s and my surprise, Matty rose.
“Why don’t I walk with you, Doc?”