Meeting Destiny (4 page)

The doctor seemed mildly curious as he waited for my response, and I finally responded, “We don’t know each other that well, we just met recently.” This was the truth. I had only just met him in person last night, although I’ve had hundreds of conversations with him – at least I think I have. I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of this guy that I even gave him a name – Destiny. Now my destiny’s name is Max.

“
Huh, I would have guessed you were old friends. He did compressions on you in the ambulance and refused to switch with anyone until you were prepped for surgery and we were ready to bring you in. I just assumed you two were close.”

“
You said he called checking on me?” I tried to be as nonchalant as possible.

“
Yeah, I just hung up with him a few minutes ago. He wanted to know if you were awake yet. Max asked if he could come into recovery to see you. I told him you were already out of recovery and we had set you up in a room.”

“
Into recovery?”

“
After surgery we keep patients in the recovery room until the anesthesia wears off and vitals are stabilized. It’s normally about an hour; you were in a little longer than most.”

“
But why would he ask you?”

“
Recovery is for medical staff only. Family and friends have to wait until someone is cleared from recovery before they can see them. Max was trying to get around the rules with his hospital credentials. I like Max and would’ve bent the rules for him, but there wasn’t any need. By the time he asked, you had already been moved into your room.”

“
So did he say if he would be stopping by?”

“
No, but since he was on last night, he should be getting off work soon. He may decide to check on you himself.”

I hoped that the doctor couldn’t see the flush on my face, as I did a momentary flashback to my time with Max in the ambulance. His amazing green eyes peered at me through my mind, and I felt giddy that he might pop through the door at any time.

“
I’m going to give you a sedative to help you rest. I need you to get as much rest as possible, your body needs it.” The doctor put a syringe into my IV bag.

“
You haven’t mentioned anything about my leg. Was everything okay with the surgery?”

“
The bullet fractured - well shattered is a better description, a section of your femur and clipped your femoral artery. We were able to repair your artery in surgery and stop the bleeding. You’re young and in good health, so after we got the bleeding to stop and the bullet out, I kept you open a little longer. We put an intramedullary rod in your femur, screwed it in place, and did a bone graft to speed the healing process.”

The image of pins in my leg brought with it a flash of Frankenstein. I looked down at my leg to see metal pins sticking out of either side of my thigh. Gross! My leg was propped up on pillows, without a cast.

The doctor continued, “This would normally have been two surgeries, but the damage to your leg was pretty extensive and we wanted to get the rod in right away. We’ll need you to stay off it today. Tomorrow we’ll have you try crutches and see if we need to put a frame on it for stability.”

“
No cast?” I felt my senses slowing down as the sedative made its way through my bloodstream.

“
The rod we inserted acts like a cast, from the inside. We’ll wait for the swelling to go down before we have you work on mobility. With any luck we may not need to put a frame on.” He laid down my chart and made his way to the door.

The doctor seemed surprised as he crossed the threshold and declared, “Well - speak of the devil! We were just talking about you.”

My eyes were so heavy I couldn’t keep them open. I saw someone step through the doorway in a blue uniform shirt, just as my eyes closed.

I awoke feeling groggy again, with my throat on fire. There was a perfume fragrance that was nearly overwhelming, almost as though I were breathing in through some floral air freshener. I forced my eyes open, and this time, the light wasn’t as blinding as it had been the last time I awoke.

I blinked my eyes a couple times and looked around to see if my room was empty. Seth was sitting on the visitor chair on my left, sound asleep. He was the best friend ever. I could see the worry on his face through the slumber. I reached out to touch his arm, but the tubes protruding from my arm acted like a restraint, so I wasn’t able to stretch my arm to him.

I looked around the room, surprised to see bouquets of flowers lining every table top, window sill and flat surface in the room. It looked like a floral shop, all sizes of arrangements in every pastel color: pinks, yellows, oranges, their combined fragrance overwhelming. I started to count the vases: one, two, three…seventeen, eighteen! Where had all these flowers come from?

The curiosity got to me, and I reached to the table on my right to see the card on the arrangement closest to me. It was from Melissa with a quick message scrawled, “I would trade with you in a minute and am still mad about the freezer.” The card warmed me knowing my ruse had kept Melissa safe.

I mulled over the events of last night. As soon as the man was in the restaurant, I knew he was trouble. My body reacted to him before he even got near me. I’ve always had a sense for people, for their intentions, but never anything like last night.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always known things without proof and believed in outcomes others would never fathom. This would normally paint a picture of someone who is gullible and easily deceived. There are things that I understand that I cannot quantify, but unlike so many other personalities in the world, I do not always require proof to validate my instincts.

Instincts: those elements that make the hair on your arms stand on end when danger approaches, that permit you to turn around quickly to catch a man’s gaze in a bar before he looks away. The last several years, these instincts have become sharper; I’m not certain if it is due to practice, age, hormones or what. I’m not physic or clairvoyant, just more perceptive than most.

I could have handled things differently, but if I had, the results might have been dreadful. As it was, my leg may have been shot, but I wasn’t in any insurmountable pain or anything. No one else had been put in jeopardy, so I was confident that my course of action was the best option among some seriously crappy choices. I put Melissa’s card back in the holder.

My throat might as well have been lined with sand paper, the pain radiating was nearly unbearable. I laughed at myself - I lose a couple quarts of blood, suffer a gun-shot wound, die a few times on the operating table and it’s a sore throat that’s unbearable. I looked for a glass of water. I didn’t want to wake up Seth, who knows how long he had stayed awake. I decided to push the, “Call Nurse” button on my bed. Mere seconds passed before an older stout woman came charging through the door. I raised my index finger quickly to my lips in an effort to keep her from talking aloud. I pointed at the sleeping Seth. She nodded in understanding. When I cupped my hand in a pretend glass gesture as if I were drinking, she nodded, understanding my sign language.

She smiled and walked over to a table that was overflowing with flowers. Tucked behind a large arrangement was a little plastic pitcher and glass she carried across the room to me. In a hushed tone, respecting my wishes not to disturb Seth, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

I managed a smile of my own and replied, “I think okay, what time is it?”

Her name tag read Felicia. She looked at her watch, “A little after noon. Are you hungry?”

Until she said the word
hungry
I hadn’t noticed, but by stomach was definitely empty, and I nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be right back with some lunch for you. You may not want to let him sleep very long. The poor guy’s been worried sick about you all morning. I know he’d be thrilled to see you awake and having a bite to eat.” I nodded and she turned around and was out the door in a flash.

My voice sounded like gravel. I drank the whole glass of water in relatively slow sips, partly to sooth my parched throat and partly to try to smooth my voice before I spoke. I cleared my throat quietly, then in a soft but audible voice uttered, “Seth…Seth helloooooo.” The sound gave him a sudden jolt and I felt bad; he was sound asleep and my voice startled him awake. He had a brief second of confusion, uncertain what had awoken him, then I could see the relief spill over his face.

In as smooth and playful a voice as I could squeak out, I asked, “So don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday than sit in a hospital all day accepting flower deliveries?”

Seth’s face beamed. He was on his feet and at my side in an instant, holding my hand with his, and gently caressing my forehead with his other hand. His touch felt wonderful. Seth had never pushed me to be physical with him, and any handholding or tenderness had always felt a little awkward. It was always as if touching him was the furthest thing from my mind.

Now, today, through these circumstances, I could see his genuine desire to be closer to me. I had never really craved his touch before, but feeling his tenderness provoked a desire for more, a yearning I didn’t know I had. I have no idea how long we spent motionless with one another, the only movement his gentle caress on my forehead.

In barely louder than a whisper he asked, “Lauren, I have so much to say to you, are you really awake?” I nodded and couldn’t help but feel the warmth that emanated from him and the wave of unfamiliar tingles in my body.

He stared at me, then looked away as if he were embarrassed. His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. I saw his eyes were fixed on our hands. I squeezed his hand as if trying to prove I was okay.

“
I promise I’m awake…sorry I’ve been so out of it today. I guess I have some idea how a bear feels, hibernating and everything.”

Whatever he wanted to say, I didn’t want to push him. I liked this moment. I had never felt so close to him before and wanted to savor the moment a little bit longer. I knew this was more a result of a horrific event than a new revelation on our relationship. I felt his breath speed up as he leaned in to kiss me. My mind was full of uncertainty: Where was this coming from? Although I liked it, a part of me was screaming that this is a huge mistake.

When I closed my eyes, all I saw were those sea foam green eyes with brown speckles in them, and I knew my desire was not at all for Seth. I needed to stop this.

Seth’s smile faded away. He looked briefly to the ceiling as if he needed his composure before his mouth would cooperate. Then finally in a remorseful voice, “This has been the worst day of my entire life. I feel so powerless to help you. I need you to be okay. Do you understand?” Seth stared at me. His voice full of sorrow. He didn’t break his stare or pull his hand away from me.

I nodded, but after feeling the intensity of his stare, I needed to calm him down, if that was even possible. “Seth, I’m fine, really. I’ve never been shot before, and honestly hope never to repeat it, but I feel okay. The doctor says I’m going to be fine.”

I tried to switch gears on him and asked, “Where’s Mom?”

“
Molly went home to get a shower. The doctor said you wouldn’t wake up for a while. She should be back any time. I’ll call her and let her know you’re awake again.”

The nurse came in with a lunch tray, then rolled an odd-looking table over the bed in front of me. She adjusted the bed so that I was seated nearly upright, and the table was at exactly the right height. I peered at the unappealing tray of food she set in front of me. She filled my glass with water again and could see my disappointment. “Sorry Sweetie, this is the standard tray. I’ll bring you a menu so you can pick your meals for the remainder of your stay. You don’t have any dietary restrictions, so you can eat chocolate ice cream for every meal if you want.” She giggled a little and her less serious mood was exactly what I needed. I picked up the fork, “Well, thanks,” and pushed the food around a little. She gave me a half smile and disappeared out the door again.

I was pretty sure the meat was chicken, but it had creamy stuff all over it. Peas were my least favorite vegetable and there was a near mountain of them on my plate. The biscuit was hard as a rock, and to top it all off – tapioca pudding. I can’t imagine who would want this meal – certainly not me. After poking everything, I realized no matter how hungry I was, I wouldn’t find this lunch appetizing. Without trying to sound pathetic, I asked, “Seth, do you think you could get me some real food?” I looked at him hopefully, knowing he didn’t want to leave.

“
Sure, what do you want?”