A Lover's Lament(108)

Why is this happening?

Hasn’t he been through enough?

Haven’t I been through enough?

Devin is finally within reach—for good—and I can’t even touch him. He’s in one of those cold, sterile rooms, hooked up to God knows what, and I’m not in there with him. I should be in there. Curling my fingers inward, I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, making a fist, and then pound furiously against the one thing separating me from him.

I have no idea how long I bang on the door, determined to get someone’s attention, but no one walks by or offers to help, and eventually anger and determination overshadow my pain. Dropping my arms, I step back from the door, remembering something Devin once said to me. “Strength comes from within. We make ourselves strong, Katie, and right now I need you to dig deep and find your strength. And when you find it, I need you to hold on to it. I don’t care how many times you want to give up and let go, you hold on to that strength and you fight.”

A shiver runs through me as though he physically just whispered those words in my ear. Pushing past the sadness, exhaustion and pain, I dig deep, finding that strength he was talking about. Straightening my back, I step up to the intercom and push the button again.

“May I help you?” It’s the same woman from before. I cringe, knowing I’m not going to get anywhere but determined to at least try.

“I am not leaving.” My words come out firm and strong, the complete opposite of how I’m feeling on the inside. The tears sit just behind the eyes, waiting to erupt again, waiting to pour down my trembling cheeks. “I will stand outside this door and push that annoying little button until someone lets me in there.”

“Ma’am, listen—”

“No, you listen,” I demand, pointing my finger at the speaker as though it’s her face. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. I’m crabby, I’m tired and I’m scared to death because the man I love is in one of those rooms fighting for his life, and you won’t let me see him.” Adrenaline is flowing through my body, and I run a trembling hand down the front of my shirt. The desire to see him, to feel him, surpasses any weakness in my legs. It puts the breath back in my lungs. It quells the tears that want to fall. “Devin is mine,” I proclaim, fisting my hand over my heart. The truth and potency of that statement seeps through my veins, warming me from the inside out. I know that if Devin were standing here right now, he would be proud as hell. “He. Is. Mine. And if you think for one second that I’m going to walk away now because you say visiting hours are over, well then, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The handle on the door shifts and I step back, eyes wide, thankful that someone is giving me the time of day. The door cracks open and a short, plump, older woman steps into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“Ma’am—”

“Katie,” I interject. “Please call me Katie.”

“Katie, I understand that you want to see your loved one, but as I stated earlier, visiting hours are over. We have strict visiting hours for very specific reasons, and I know how frustrating it is, but you cannot stand out here acting like this. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to call security.” Without so much as a second glance, she turns away, shutting the door quietly in my face.

“Fuck,” I hiss, pacing across the hall. Every ounce of strength I had managed to muster shatters. My head spins and I reach out, steadying myself against the wall. I’m completely numb—my heart, my brain, my body … all of it is numb. Pure and utter exhaustion takes over. Pressing my back against the wall, I slide down until my butt hits the cool tile. I bend my knees, wrap my arms around my legs and pull them in close. “I’m here, Devin,” I whisper, burying my face in my arms.

A tight band constricts around my chest, and this time when the tears fall, there is no warning. They simply fall, and I let them. My heart is telling me to get my ass up and find a way to get to him, but my head is having no part of it. The last thing I need is to get hauled out of here by security.

“Miss?”

My body jerks when a hand lands on my shoulder, but I don’t look up. I can’t. “I’m good,” I mumble, a sob crawling up my throat because I’m anything but good. “That’s a lie.” I sniff, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m not good. I’m miserable. I have no idea if Devin is okay.” My voice cracks when I say his name out loud. “They tell me he’s alive,” I cry, “but that’s all I know, and all I want to do is go in there and … I want t-to tell him that I l-love him and that he has to s-stay strong. I need to t-tell him th-thank you for saving me and for”—I suck in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the amount of things I need to tell him—“loving me. I don’t know what I’ll do if h-he doesn’t make it.” Blowing out a slow breath, I pinch my lips together. My chin is trembling so much that it physically hurts, and I wonder if anyone would mind if I just curled up into the fetal position right here on the floor. “I won’t sur-survive without him. I know I won’t.” I shake my head, batting away the tears, still staring at the floor between my legs. “He has to be okay. He just has to…” I keep rambling because it feels good to get this all out, but I have absolutely no idea if the woman is still there or if she really did go to get security.