Page 53 of I Hear You

It’s been nearly five minutes, and she still hasn’t said anything. It’s been too long for her to think I may have more to say, and while I’m sure there is plenty more I can and need to say–I’m out of words for now. Mads shifts in her seat and brings her legs down in front of her.

“I’m not saying I’m not still mad, but I understand you and I appreciate you being honest with me. I’m gonna want to talk about this again, but for now, I think I need to just think about things.”

“Completely fair,” I say.

We still have a few hours left until we land, but at least the conversation seems to have distracted her from her fear. She fell asleep a few minutes ago on my shoulder. I haven’t moved a muscle because I don’t want to risk waking her and not having her touching me anymore.

Even with all the mistakes I made, all the times I thought with the wrong freaking head, I might actually still have a chance with her. I plan on doing anything and everything from here on out to prove to her, I love her, that I’min lovewith her.

Chapter twenty-five

Madison

IwaketoHenrygently shaking my shoulder. My head is in his lap and I’m pretty sure I can see my drool on his pants. After so much crying, I was exhausted, mentally and physically drained. I feel anything but refreshed as I sit up and look around, remembering where I am. The past twenty-four hours crashing back down on me.

Henry’s smiling sweetly at me, holding my gaze intently. He reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and on instinct I lean into his palm, releasing the air from my lungs I didn’t know was trapped there. I pull away sharply when the pilot's voice comes over the speakers.

“If you’ll please fasten your seatbelts, we will be landing soon.”

I sit up properly in my seat and click my seatbelt into place. Henry does the same. I can feel the plane pitching forward and my stomach drops like it does on roller coasters. Without even thinking, I reach for Henry’s hand and grip it tightly, squeezing my eyes closed. He leans toward me and presses his forehead against the side of my head.

“I’m scared,” I say.

He inhales sharply and lets out his breath slowly.

“I hear you,” He whispers into my ear.

My breath hitches, then calms. I concentrate only on the sound of his breaths moving slowly in and out.

Against my worries we would suddenly drop from the sky; the plane lands smoothly. We’re in an Uber on the way to the hospital. Henry and I are no longer seated next to each other, our bodies no longer pressing against each other like they were on the airplane. It’s as if we stepped off the plane and a bubble we were in burst. The realities of our situation and why we’re in California flooding in and washing out the temporary truce we’d called.

Looking out the window, I see familiar places, one after the other. We drive by the dance studio I went to when I was seven and my favorite burger place. Good and bad memories try to permeate my thoughts at the same time. I didn’t expect being back here, where I grew up, to give me so many conflicting feelings.

When the driver finally pulls into the drop zone at the hospital, I want to tell him to turn around and take me back. That would mean getting back on the flying death trap, but it’s a fate I might take over dealing with whatever is waiting for me inside this hospital.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my pants and exit the car. Henry’s already grabbed both our bags and is coming to stand next to me. Extricating myself from the car was as far as I got. I haven’t made a move to actually go inside the hospital.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“No.”

But I take that first step and head into the hospital.

The waiting room is packed; people taking up nearly every chair and kids running around, their parents not caring. I guess when you’re dealing with something serious enough for someone you love to be in the hospital, you tune out a lot. The smell of antiseptic is strong and all the lights are too bright. I’ve never been inside a hospital before. When Dad was in his accident, Mom left me with the old lady who lived next door and went to the hospital alone. He died before she even made it there. Neither of us got to say goodbye.

I make my way to the receptionist’s desk and tell the cheery woman sitting behind a computer who I’m there to see. Her bright smile is a stark contrast to my current mood.

“She’s in room 407. Take the elevator to the fourth floor and turn left. Put this on,” she tells me, handing me a visitor’s badge.

I slap the sticky badge on my shirt.

“Does your boyfriend need one too?” she asks.

“He’s not my–”

“I’ll wait here Mads,” Henry says.

He moves to sit in a nearby chair between a man who looks to be in his seventies, clutching a woman's purse, and a middle aged woman reading a book. I give him a half smile and make my way to the elevators. I look at all the signs on the walls and placards labeling the different departments, searching for any clue why my mom is in the hospital. Intensive Care is on the second floor and she’s on the fourth so she can’t be too hurt or sick. The maternity ward is on the third floor. Thank God she’s not on the third floor. Fourth Floor—general care.

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