All This Time(65)

Water splatters loudly against my window, startling me.

It stops abruptly only to start again a couple of seconds later. On and off, over and over, the sound filling the room.

Sprinklers. In the courtyard.

I roll over to my other side, turning quickly away from the window, my leg screaming out in pain. Frustrated, I roll onto my back, but I can’t get comfortable on this hard-as-hell hospital mattress.

I turn my head to look outside, watching as the sprinkler noisily batters the glass again. My eyes find a small snail crawling slowly across the window. I watch it fight its way along.

I want to tell it to just sit there and wait it out. There’s no use in the struggle. But suddenly, without warning, it’s plucked from the glass by a pair of fingers that disappear from view just as quickly as they came.

Huh?

I look closer, realizing there’s someone outside in the courtyard. Pushing myself out of bed, I grab my crutches and shuffle to the window. A girl in dark clothes on the other side of the glass is moving up and down the courtyard, plucking snails out of the way of the sprinkler and moving them to safety.

I smile sadly to myself, watching as she looks around, finding another and moving it over to one of the benches, setting it carefully down on the wood.

I freeze as she turns, the glowing lamplight illuminating her face.

Marley.

My heart speeds into triple time, my stomach going molten as it flips over itself. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to wake myself up. To pull myself out of this cruel second dream. But when I open them, she’s still there.

This is real.

Before I can process what I’m doing, I’m booking it out of my room and flying down the hallway. I almost make it to the door before a nurse slides in front of me, blocking my way.

“Where do you think you’re going this time?” she asks me, crossing her arms. “Are you determined to rebreak your leg? No more evening excursions for you.”

I try to get past her, desperately shuffling right and left, but she’s too quick for a guy on crutches with only one working leg.

“Goddammit…,” I say, frustrated. I need to get out into that courtyard. I have to get to her before I lose her again. She’s here. There’s no fog. No clashing of my dreams with reality.

“Really?” the nurse says, plucking a crutch out from under my arm.

I wobble, grabbing ahold of the wall and bracing myself, but it’s obvious I’m not getting any farther like this.

“See you guys in a few,” a nurse in a pair of blue scrubs says to the ladies at the station, oblivious to our standoff. She walks past us. “They’ve got me in Cardiology the rest of this week.”

I glance to the side at her, my eyes widening when I see her eyes, her long brown hair, the wrinkle in her forehead, all of it triggering a memory. Her face peering down at me as I woke up, her voice calling out into the hallway for Dr. Benefield.

The features just like Marley’s, only older. Long brown hair, rose-petal lips, warm hazel eyes, but hers crinkle at the corners.

I watch her go through the double doors.

And then… I remember.

She was the nurse who checked my vitals the night I broke out of the hospital. The nurse who wheeled me down to my first physical therapy appointment.

I’ve been too distracted searching for Marley to pay attention to everything around me.

“Holy shit,” I say aloud, and the nurse blocking my way glares at me.

I give her an apologetic smile, and she grants me the crutch back, steering me to my room. I hurry to the window. I get there just in time to see the woman in blue scrubs call out to Marley, leading her away and out of the courtyard. It’s her mother. It’s got to be.

My mind is exploding.

I stagger to the bed, sinking down on it. “Holy. Shit.” She’s real. Marley is real.

I grab my phone off my nightstand, quickly starting a text to Sam, but the words won’t come out right no matter what I try to say. So instead I scroll through my recent calls and press Kimberly’s number.

I rip the phone away from my ear and quickly disconnect after the first ring.

No. Not yet. I have to be 100 percent sure this time.

Cardiology. The nurse said she’d been in Cardiology this week. And if she’s in Cardiology this week, maybe that means Marley will be too.

I flop back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, a smile breaking out on my lips.





36


The next evening, I check my hair quickly in the bathroom mirror as I wash my hands. I see that one stubborn, unruly strand of hair, but I don’t even try to smooth it down. Marley never seemed to mind it.

My face is still gaunt, though, from the accident and the weeks lying in a coma. Will she recognize me? A pasty complexion is probably the least of my worries on that front.

Grabbing my crutches, I brace myself, flicking the light out and heading into the hallway. I peer at the empty nurses’ desk before working my way down the hall, hiding behind doors and around corners as I move toward the sign that says CARDIOLOGY in big black letters.

Pushing inside, I quietly look around for her.

Doctors, nurses, orderlies, all of them distracted by the clipboards in their hands and the monitoring of their patients. No Marley, though. I try one waiting room and then another, stepping through the second door to find the seats are all empty. She’s nowhere to be found.