Page 12 of Made For Me

She laughs and shakes her head, looking back at Penelope. “OR is going to be ready in five.” I nod at her.

“Christine is on her way in,” I say, and her eyebrows shoot up.

“Called in the big guns,” she jokes with me, turning around and walking over to the gurney as she pushes Penelope toward the operating room. “You joining us?”

“In a bit,” I say as I walk out of the room and go to find Julia. I look into the room where we originally brought Penelope and find it empty. I walk toward the waiting room, and my eyes find her. The room is filled with brown chairs with two vending machines and one coffee machine. She paces the room, walking from one wall to the other until she finally sits down. Her legs start moving uncontrollably as she looks at the phone in her hand. She must feel me watching her because her eyes fly up to mine.

She gets up, or at least she tries to, but then she sits back down again. I walk to her, sitting in the chair beside her. “Is she…?”

“She’s going into surgery now,” I reply, and her eyes well up. She lifts one of her hands, and I can see it shaking. My hand reaches out to grab hers. Her hand is ice cold as I hold it in mine, willing her to take my heat and strength. “Are you all right?”

CHAPTER7

Julia

I walk the white-tiled floor twenty steps to one wall, then twenty to the next until I think I’m going to collapse. My stomach is in my throat, and my whole body shakes from my nerves. I sit down in the chair, my legs shaking without me even doing it. I look down at the phone in my hand, knowing I have to call Rosalind. I spring back up on my feet and start pacing the room again. I shake my hands to stop them from trembling.

My body feels like it’s turning to ice, and I start to shiver. I wrap my arms around myself and feel eyes on me, so I look up and see Chase standing there. The last thing I expected when the ambulance doors opened was for him to be standing there in blue scrubs wearing a white medical coat. His hair in a bun on top of his head. I search his eyes, hoping he isn’t coming to tell me she didn’t make it. I don’t think I’ll be able to hear that right now. Actually, I know I won’t be able to. I search his eyes to see if there is something there. His eyes stare into mine, but I can’t see what he’s thinking.

He walks over to me. With every single step he takes, I hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears, louder and louder. I don’t think I even breathe while I watch him. It’s like everything is in slow motion, and the five steps he takes to me feel like forever. I get up, or at least I try to, and then my knees buckle, so I just sit back down again. He finally sits down in the chair next to me and the only thing I can ask is, “Is she…?” I swallow the rest of the question, not sure I want to finish it, not sure I can hear the words.

“She’s going into surgery now.” The only thing I process from that is she is still alive. The relief runs through me as my nose stings, and I can feel the tears ready to escape. Tears I’ve fought back from the minute I walked into the scene. I lift my empty hand, and I can’t keep it from shaking. His hand comes out to grab mine, and the heat radiates through him and into me. “Are you all right?”

I laugh bitterly. Instead of sobbing, I shake my head furiously. “Not even a little bit,” I admit honestly, surprised I’m even telling him this. When push comes to shove, I always, always put up a wall and a brave front. I wait until I’m in the comfort of my home to have my breakdown. And trust me, after doing this for so long, I’ve had my own share of breakdowns but never in front of anyone. Those moments were my burden to keep.

“I’m going to go into surgery,” he says softly. “I just wanted to let you know.” His voice trails off, and his hand squeezes mine just a touch.

“Will she make it?” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat as my eyes search his for a second before I feel the tears ready to escape my own eyes. I watch our hands as the first tear escapes and drips onto mine before it slides off and runs down his hand.

“So far, it looks good,” he replies, rubbing my hand with his thumb. “But we won’t know until we get in there.”

I look up at him, bringing my hand up to wipe away the lone tear running down my cheek. “Then you should get in there.”

He tries to smile at me, but it comes out forced. “I’ll come and get you,” he assures me.

“Don’t worry about me,” I say when his hand lets go of mine, and I want to bring it back to mine for the support. For the comfort. For the heat. For the strength. “Just make her better.”

He nods at me and stands. “Do you want me to call anyone?” His eyes search mine, and the only thing I can do is shake my head.

“I have to call a couple of people,” I say, my stomach sinking when I think about the phone calls I have to make. He just stands in front of me, and I blink away the tears. “I’m fine. Go.” I motion with my chin, and he puts his hands in his pockets, taking one look at me before he turns around and heads down the hallway.

My legs start to move up and down as I look at the phone in my hand. I take a huge inhale and press the side button. The phone screen lights up, showing a picture of me with Jamieson. I swipe up and go into my favorites, seeing Rosalind’s name at the end, so I press her name. The call connects right away, and I bring it to my ear, hearing the phone ring. She answers after two rings, and I can tell I woke her up.

“Hello,” she says, her voice a bit groggy.

“Hi,” I greet as I blink away the tears threatening to escape. “It’s me.”

“Julia.” She says my name, and I hear the rustling of covers on her end. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I reply, my voice shaking, and she gives me the time I need to say the rest. “There was an accident.” My voice is low as I look around the empty room. I hear talking off in the distance, and I feel as if the room is spinning.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a panic. I can tell she’s moving around, probably getting ready to come to me.

“I’m fine,” I reassure her right away to stop her from rushing to me. “It’s not me.”

The movement on her end stops. “It’s Monica.” I say her name, and the pain in my chest fills me, and when I close my eyes, I can see her smiling at me. The tears escape the corner of my eyes.

She huffs, asking me, “What kind of trouble is she in now?” I can even picture her rolling her eyes. I know she isn’t expecting what comes out of my mouth.

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