Page 111 of Get to You
"Yes?"
"Samantha is awake.”
“We’ll be right in.”
The static cuts off.
Her eyes fall shut and she sighs, "How'd” — she wets her lips— “I make it?” Her question pierces my heart, before I can assure her, or explain how we were lucky.
The door swoops open and two women walk in with big smiles and soft voices. They test her vitals for what seems like ages.
Sam is able to wake up as they collect her blood and check the various monitors attached to her. Her voice comes back gradually, as the nurses prompt her with questions about her condition.
They ask the day and she falters, "I don't know. I think…” she trails off, a frown on her face. “I think two weeks, maybe less?”
I wish I was able to keep quiet, but the noise I make has her turning to look at me.
"It’s nothing, sweets," I dismiss, but of course it doesn't work.
"Beau, what?"
"Sammy don't worry about this right now. Let's just work on getting you better." She turns her eyes from me to the nurses. They’ve been quiet during our exchange.
"What's the date?" she croaks. I grab the cup of ice and place it to her lips. She opens her mouth without complaint but doesn't take her eyes from the nurse.
"November nineteenth," one answers.
The shock is clear on Sammy’s face as her eyes dart back to mine, "But…” she struggles. “That long?" She looks at me with questions I don't have the answers to. She shakes her head disbelievingly, “I gave up…” she looks down. “I stopped counting.”
I place my hand over her cheek gently, "You're here now Sammy."
Her eyes glaze over, and she whispers, "What if I'm not? Will I wake up, there?" Her good hand squeezes my hand that's still touching her face.
It takes every fiber in my being not to fall apart. I want to comfort her with words of reassurance, but my throat is too tight to speak.
I clench my jaw and lean forward to kiss her split lip.
I whisper, "Baby, I promise you will never be in that room again. I promise you are here. I’m right here.”
Her shoulders shake.
“You’re going to be okay.” She cries, as I fumble for better words to comfort her.
“I missed you," she whispers quietly as the door closes quietly behind me. I didn't even realize the nurses left. “I didn’t think…” her voice is still rough, her cracked lips struggling to hold words. “I didn’t think I would see you.”
I can’t speak, so I gather her into my arms. She doesn't make one sound of complaint as my fingers brush against her battered body. She buries her head into my chest and neck and heaves.
I grit my teeth and rock her, half sitting on the bed beside her.
I hold her until her sobs quiet and her body relaxes. I let her go, resting her head back on the pillow.
Her eyes closed, she's close to sleep.
"I love you."
I pull back to look at her.
"I love you too. I love you so much, Samantha. I'm so sorry I let him take you, so sorry." I continue to look down at her, with tears forming in my eyes.
