Page 88 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

“I have to queue,” Rosie said, feeling frustrated, “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“It’ll be okay. Just a few minutes. He’s in theatre, remember? Can’t see him anyway.”

“I know.” She hopped from one foot to the other and then brought her hands in front of her and wrung them together.

Mark grabbed one of her hands and held it. He rubbed at her arm. “He’s a fighter. Remember that. He’ll be okay. He’ll be in there, demanding to go home or kicking up hell about his bike.”

“His bike … I knew. It’s icy. I asked him about it. He said he knew what he was doing.”

“It was just an accident,” Mark said. They moved up a space. Three more people joined behind. One woman with a child in her arms whose face was so red. “He’ll be okay.”

Every second they stood there was like pain lancing through Rosie. She tried to listen to Mark’s words and tell herself that he was right. William was strong, William was fine, and that he was in surgery right now anyway, so there was nothing they could do. But by the time they got their turn at the window, she was a stuttering mess.

“M-my b-boyfriend. William Carter. He was brought in. They called me. He was in an accident.”

The woman tapped something into the computer. “Date of birth?”

“Erm …” Her mind went blank. Like the date was there and she could see it in her head, but could she actually say it. “June 12th,” she said.

“And the year.”

“1986,” Mark said. Then he gave William’s address.

“Visiting is for family only,” the receptionist said.

“I’m his girlfriend.”

The receptionist nodded. “Yes. But you’re not listed here. His next of kin …”

“I’m his brother,” Mark cut in, “His next of kin is our mother, Maria Carter, but she is elderly. Rosie is his fiancé and expecting his child. Now, can we see my brother?”

Mark’s words were enough to make Rosie stop listening to the sound of her own heart beating wildly. It was an echo in her head and a wonder anyone else couldn’t hear it.

“And you are?”

“Mark Carter,” he said, “We were called by someone named Regina. She told us William is in surgery and that we should come.”

The woman stared at Mark. Probably because of the tone he used—his solicitor voice. Any other time, it might have made Rosie worry, but right now, she was thankful for it.

“One moment,” the woman said, and then she went to the back. Rosie could just see her talking to a nurse. The nurse flipped through some chart and nodded. When the receptionist came back, she said. “He’s still in theatre, but there is a waiting room just there. They’ll come for you when he is in recovery.”

“But I--”

Mark put his hand on Rosie’s arm. “Thank you.” He nodded at the receptionist and led a very reluctant Rosie to the room on the side. A room filled with leather seats, a table strewn with old magazines and a television nailed to the wall for patients and relatives to stare at as they waited.

“See, he’s okay,” Mark said as he led Rosie to a seat. There were only sparse seats available here and there. Two at the back, but other people sat on either side. Rosie didn’t normally care for that, but in here it felt odd. Still, she let Mark take her there and sit her down.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. If there was anything wrong, they’d have said someone will be out to see you in a minute, or they’d have let us in and sat us in a room at the back. That’s code for there’s a problem.”

“But maybe …”

“Trust me. He’s okay. I’ll grab us some coffees. It might be a long wait. Do you want anything?”

“No. Thank you.” The idea of anything in her stomach, coffee, tea, even water was enough to make her want to be sick. How could she stand to sit there, drink coffee when her William was in the operating room going through god knows what. She could hardly keep still, let alone hold a drink. She tapped her leg, much to the annoyance of the man sitting near to her. She shot the odd look, but she tried to focus on the screen.

“I got you a bottle of water, just in case,” Mark said when he came back minutes later. “Probably a good idea you said no to coffee, this stuff is bitter enough to make the cast of Sesame Street bitter and twisted.”

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