Page 72 of Severed Rivalry
Cian: True story.
Me: I’m looking forward to Tuesday.
Cian: Odd segue.
Me: One step closer. And since we’re looking on the bright side, I’m expecting smooth sailing and miraculous healing.
Cian: Promise me if I come out of anesthesia angry or violent, you’ll stay far away.
Me: Just come out of it on the other side, and I promise I’ll duck.
Cian: That’s not funny.
Me: Sure it is. I’m going to go pass out.
Cian: I’m not far behind you. Sweet dreams, Angel. Know that you are loved.
Me: ’Night, Ci. Right back atcha.
21
face first
Sariah
He’s not awake yet.
Surgery came and went. He’s in recovery, but he won’t wake up. Why won’t he wake up?
Ayla and I sit in the waiting room with her mom, Janie. The woman carries herself with an air of authority and affluence but seems smaller than who she is. I don’t know how to describe it. But her tailored expensive clothes are a bit too baggy. Her pallor is a bit gray and the bags under her eyes aren’t well concealed.
She’s said nothing other than to kiss her daughter on the cheek when she arrived and then move several chairs away.
She didn’t say a thing to me, but nor did I to her. It’s been since college, and I don’t know that she even recognizes me.
The tension in here is thicker than frozen caramel, and I’m not wading in to thaw it out.
I brought my computer and am trying a new method of pen testing on the app. Ayla brought her own and is editing photos. She also brought a small pantry’s worth of coffee and snacks from her favorite coffee shop.
I’m glad for the variety and the distraction since the testing isn’t doing it.
I have no clue how long the three of us have been sitting in silence, all focusing on our devices when a man in scrubs walksout. “Ayla,” he greets before looking around. I’m at attention, and Janie stands, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“Dr. Singh. How’s Cian?” She stands eye to eye with the young surgeon.
“He’s still in recovery. We were able to wake him, but he asked for pain killers and a nap, which we obliged.”
“And?”
“No change from before. The surgery was much more invasive than we’d hoped, but it was successful. The swelling from the original injury actually protected the ocular nerve, so he shouldn’t have any vision issues and there’s no damage to the retina. We were concerned about the need for an acrylic eye, but that shouldn’t be necessary. For the amount of damage sustained, he was exceedingly lucky.”
The gasped hiccup behind me is swiftly followed by retching. Janie Murphy isn’t hearing the positives.
They’re all I want to hear. No prosthetic. No blindness. Complete repair. I hate that it’s happening but will take the outcome since he already sustained the injury.
“How long before we can see him?” Ayla asks before I can.
“Let’s let him wake up on his own. I suspect another hour, maybe more. It took a bit of anesthesia to get him under.”
