Page 27 of Sparking Sara

“Some family,” I say. “She’s got a cousin who can’t even show up most of the time, an old friend who she cut ties with years ago, and a boyfriend who’s MIA.”

“And how is that your problem, man?”

“Why do you even give a shit, Bass? I did my job this morning.”

“Because thoughts of this girl are consuming you. It’s not healthy.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” I say, springing up off the cot.

“Because I’m not sure you can be.”

I flash him an uninviting stare. “Are you telling me I should see a goddamned shrink?”

“If that’s what it takes. The department has a lot of resources. And it doesn’t have to be a shrink, you know. FDNY has chaplains stationed around the city. But I think it’s time you talk to someone, Denver.Anyone.”

I do talk to someone, I want to tell him.I talk to Sara.

I walk out of the bunk room and into the bathroom where I splash some water on my face. Then I spend the rest of the day thinking about the girl lying in the hospital bed, wondering if anyone showed up to hold her hand today.

Chapter Seven

She looks so different without all the tubes, tape, and wires around her face. I’ve never seen her whole face before. When I was in the car with her, all I could see was her eyes and the top of her head. And after she was pulled out, she had an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

She looks almost peaceful now.

I walk to the head of the bed and study her skull. She has new stitches where the ICP monitor used to be, to go along with the twelve stitches on the right side of her head.

They did a good job preserving her hair, which looks like it’s been recently cleaned. It’s dirty-blonde with an edgy cut that falls just about to her shoulders. I imagine if her hair doesn’t fully grow back around the stitches, she’ll be able to cover them easily.

I notice a birthmark on her face by her left ear. It’s a darker patch of skin about the size of a fingernail but in the shape of a flower.

“Good morning,” I finally say to her, wondering if she can hear me. “It’s Denver again. Sorry I couldn’t visit yesterday. I was working all day.”

I put my jacket around me, shivering in the cold. I’d hoped her fever would be down by now, but the nurse outside told me that a spike in temperature was expected after her surgeries yesterday. They hope it will abate soon.

“Damn, girl. You’ll be ready to move to Antarctica after all this,” I say.

I pull the chair to the side of her bed and sit down. Then I tell her what I’ve told her twenty times a day. “You were in an accident, Sara. You’re in the hospital now. They gave you drugs to sleep, but you should wake up soon. You’re going to be okay.”

I look at her hand, hoping my voice will have her finger moving again, but it doesn’t.

I reach into the pocket of my coat and pull out the book I bought on my way home from the hospital the other day.Anne of Green Gables. Lydia said it was Sara’s favorite book growing up. She told me Sara read it at least fifty times. I open the cover and start reading.

A nurse comes in a while later, catching me during the third chapter. I look up at her. She’s not the same day nurse as the last few times I was here.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she says. “I think it’s great that you’re reading to her. Most families will just sit and watch TV or play around on their phones.”

“I’m not family,” I tell her.

“I know. Krista told me. She said you’ve been here a lot. Told me the whole story. I think what you’re doing is heroic.”

I shake my head. “I’m sitting with a woman in a coma. There’s nothing heroic about it.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she says, as she replaces Sara’s empty IV bag with a full one.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye and immediately stand up, my heart pounding.

“Look, there,” I say. “She moved her hand. Did you see that?”

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