Chapter 19 #2
The rest of the day passes in a haze. Everyone from the other students to the teachers seems unusually somber, and I spot more than a few people with streaked cheeks and red eyes in the halls.
It’s as if the principal’s announcement left the entire school on mute, Greta’s influence plain to see.
Even the normally boisterous corridors following the final bell are near silent.
I feel as weighted down as everyone else as I shuffle outside with the rest of the crowd.
I think back to Greta’s phone call summoning me to fetch Ash from Emily’s party.
In a very real sense, she’d been the one to bring us together.
Without her looking out for Ash, we’d probably still be avoiding each other.
“Want to head back to my place for a bit?” Ash asks once we’ve met up and started down the sidewalk. “I could watch you play that Final Fantasy game some more.”
“Not sure I’m in the mood.” I kick at a pile of loose stones on the sidewalk, sending them scattering. “Though, I suppose I wouldn’t say no to some snuggles from you and Onyx.”
Ash links his fingers with mine, giving me a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That could probably be arranged.”
We walk without speaking, just his closeness enough to ease some of the ache in my chest. Every time I think of poor Greta strapped to a sterile hospital bed, a pang ripples through me.
I usually avoid taking sides among my friends, but this time, I’ve gotta agree with Cat—if there is any sort of plan to this, then it’s a fucking stupid one.
We’re about halfway to Ash’s aunt when a sudden thought occurs to me, and I skid to a halt. Ash looks over, frowning. “Why’d you stop?”
“Because,” I say, my mind racing, “I think I have a better idea for how we can spend our afternoon…”
The waiting room at Banton Memorial Hospital is deceptively calm when we arrive. Given my own tumultuous emotions, it feels like there should be doctors and nurses running around frantically barking orders while lines of maimed patients moan and wait desperately for their turn.
Instead, Ash and I are the only ones there.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Ash mutters beside me. He has the look of someone who’s about to be sick, his pained face contorted in a half-grimace.
“We’ll be quick,” I reply, swallowing down my own nerves. “Greta would do it for either of us.”
Ash opens his mouth to retort, then sighs and closes it. Shoving his hands in his tight jean pockets, he strides quickly toward the reception desk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
The receptionist’s directions to the Intensive Care Unit are easy enough to follow. However, visiting Greta turns out to be more difficult than I’d hoped.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse stationed at the front informs us, his voice polite yet firm. “Only immediate family members are allowed in the ICU. It’s important for the well-being of our patients that they have the peace and quiet they require to successfully recuperate.”
“We won’t be long,” Ash argues. “We just wanted to stop by and see how our friend is doing—you know, offer our support.”
“And I’m sure your friend will appreciate the gesture, but I can’t let you go back.” An older man and woman walk past us into the hall as the nurse glances at a nearby clock. “I have to continue my rotation. If you like, I can let your friend know you stopped by.”
Ash narrows his eyes at the dismissal, and I hastily step in. “That’d be great, thanks!”
“Sure. What’s the patient’s name?”
“Greta.” I sneak a glance at Ash to make sure he’s not about to keep arguing. “Greta Mathers.”
With a final nod, the nurse hurries off, leaving Ash and me standing there.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ash says, glaring after the retreating nurse. “What do they think we’re going to do, throw a goddamn party in there?”
“It’s not his fault—he’s probably just following standard hospital procedure.” I sigh. “I guess I should’ve known better than to visit her so soon. We’ll just have to wait and try to see her again once she’s out of the ICU.”
Footsteps echo off the polished hospital tiles. “Excuse me, but did you boys say you’re here to visit Greta?”
I look over to find the older man and woman who’d passed us standing there. Judging by their rumpled clothes and the heavy bags under their eyes, they’ve been here awhile.
“We are,” I say cautiously. “Do you know her?”
The man’s haggard grin oozes exhaustion. “You could say that. We’ve known her all her life.” He holds out a hand. “Pete Mathers. And this is my wife, Julia.”
I take his hand, suddenly feeling awkward at intruding on what must be one of the worst days of their lives. From the way Ash hangs back, his shoulders hunching, I assume he feels the same.
“Sorry to barge in like this,” I say once introductions are complete. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Mathers says. Her kind smile reminds me of Greta’s, sending a ripple of sorrow through my chest. “It’s good to know there are other people out there who care about Greta like we do.”
Her voice trembles, and her husband rests a hand on the small of her back. He sneaks a furtive look toward the ICU. “Rules or not, I’m certain Greta would appreciate the company, even if she’s still out from her surgery. Come.”
Gesturing for us to follow, he walks past the station where the nurse had stopped us, his wife in tow. The other doctors and nurses ignore them.
I hesitate, glancing at Ash.
Ash shrugs. “Guess I’m not the only one who thought that policy was bullshit,” he says, following after the Mathers.
Rolling my eyes, I join him.
Mr. Mathers pauses outside a closed door about halfway down the ward. Though the door and walls are all made of glass, drawn curtains block line of sight.
“Here she is,” Mr. Mathers says, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat. “We’ll wait out here. Please, take as much time as you need.”
Murmuring my thanks, I carefully open the door so that Ash and I can slip inside. Despite having the blessing of Greta’s parents, it feels like we’re doing something wrong, entering some kind of forbidden zone.
The room is small, with barely enough space for a bed, a counter, and all the equipment. Two doors at the far end open onto a bathroom and closet, respectively. Beeping instruments monitor Greta’s vitals, their blinking lights slicing through the dimness.
Greta herself lies in the bed, hooked up to a tangle of multicolored wires.
Drawn sheets cover most of her body, though by the lumps underneath, I can tell she’s wearing several casts.
Her exposed face is mottled by purple bruises and laced with angry red gashes.
Bandages swath the left side of her head.
“She looks like shit,” Ash says, echoing my own thoughts.
It’s worse than I expected, seeing one of my classmates so frail and broken. My vision blurs as a wave of grief claws at me. Something like this never should have happened, especially to someone so kind and good.
“Hi, Greta,” I manage, choking the words past my clogged throat. “Ash and I just wanted to…to see how you were doing.”
Silence save the monotonous beeping. Greta doesn’t stir, her eyes firmly shut and her body as still as a corpse. If not for the instruments monitoring her, I might’ve worried she’d already passed.
Come on, Dylan, keep it together.
I take a deep breath, swiping at my eyes.
“Everyone at school misses you. We’re all rooting for you to come back soon.
Alexis is going to get her church to help out your parents however they can, so you don’t need to worry about them.
And I’ll make sure to keep track of the work you missed and take copious notes.
You just focus on healing and leave everything else to us. ”
For a moment, I think I spot her arm shifting, and I hold my breath. A trick of the light, I tell myself when nothing else happens, my stomach sinking.
I turn toward Ash, who’s been standing quietly beside me so far, tension roiling off him in waves. “Anything you want to add, Ash?”
A shudder racks Ash’s back as he stares at Greta, not blinking for several long seconds. Then, he abruptly spins and stalks toward the door, his hands balling into fists.
“Ash? What—?”
I cut off as he barrels out into the ICU. Hurrying to keep up with him, I mutter a hasty thank you to the Mathers as I follow Ash down the hall and out of the ward. I wait until we’ve exited the hospital to grab his shoulder and jerk him to a halt.
“What the hell, Ash? If you wanted to leave, you could’ve just said so!”
Ash whirls on me, the fury contorting his face making me release his shoulder and take a hasty step back. “It’s not fair! She was a kind, generous, good person. She doesn’t deserve this!”
“No,” I agree, my voice calm despite the hollow pit opening up in my chest. “It’s not, and she doesn’t. But sometimes, that’s life.”
Ash clenches his jaw, his fists trembling as though he yearns to lash out and hit something. Then, all at once the anger leaks out of him, his back hunching as he sags.
“Well, sometimes life is bullshit,” he says, his trembling voice almost child-like.
Not knowing what else to do, I pull him close, letting him lean against me as my own tears begin to fall. Despite our best wishes, Greta’s fate is out of our hands. All we can do now is wait.