Page 9 of Pieces Into Place

After he leaves, the gravity of the moment catches up with me and I collapse onto my hospital bed, unable to stop the tightening in my chest. Sucking in heavy breaths, I rub my temples and close my eyes as the heat builds in my core and travels up to burn behind my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I cried. It’s been years. But sitting alone in this white, cold room, I let go and cry. I cry for my best friend and brother, for a life cut short too soon and the unfairness of it. I cry because I can’t remember my last words to him or our last moments together. I cry for his mother and the loss that no parent should ever experience. And I cry for the uncertainty of my future.

Kathrin finally returns the next day. She called the hospital and asked that they relay a message that she would be back soon with a surprise. As much as I’ve wanted to see her and have thought it was strange that she hasn’t been here, after the news I received yesterday, I was grateful for the space. Once my tears ran dry, the pain turned into anger, and it has been simmering under the surface ever since. I needed time to process it before being around anyone.

I’ve been moved to a short-term rehabilitation unit within the hospital, and I’m walking with the physical therapist when I see Kathin walking down the hall with sunshine on four legs.

As soon as she sees me, Annie Oakley runs toward me at full speed, pulling free from the hold Kathrin has on her leash, completely knocking my girlfriend off her feet.

I drop down to a squat and open my arms to catch my sixty-pound Golden Retriever before she launches her body into me. It’s a whirlwind of golden fur and dog licks as she smashes into my chest, nearly knocking me over.

“Annie!” Kathrin yells, quickly making her way toward us.

“It’s OK,” I laugh as my dog wiggles and nuzzles into me. Seeing her is exactly what I needed and I’m so glad Kathrin brought her. I sit in the middle of the hallway for a minute and reunite with Annie as onlookers smile and laugh at the interaction.

Standing, I embrace Kathrin with the exuberance I couldn’t when I first saw her. She melts into my arms and places her face in my chest as we both slowly exhale and try to reign in our emotions. After a moment she pulls away and I gesture at her to follow toward my room where we can have some privacy. I understand now why she left abruptly, and I’m grateful for her thoughtfulness.

Once we enter my small hospital room, I take a moment to study this woman. She is so beautiful. Now that the lingering fog in my brain is gone and it’s working better, I can appreciate what her presence here means to me.

Her red hair is tamed in a long braid, and her blue eyes shine thickly with unshed tears. I haven’t seen her in almost four months, but every freckle on her face and curve of her body is etched in my memory.

“I can’t wait to get home. That’s what I really need,” I say, pulling her into another embrace. This time I feel her body tense under my touch. She’s likely afraid to hurt me, but she doesn’t need to worry. I’m feeling better every day, physically at least.

I pull away and look at her face. Touching her cheek, I lean in and plant a chaste kiss on her lips. The feel of her soft, warm lips sparks the desire I’ve been missing these past four months, and I quickly deepen the kiss.

My fingers slide down to grip her by the waist and pull her flush to my body, but just as our bodies come together she abruptly breaks the kiss and pulls away from me, casting her gaze downward.

With furrowed brows, I place my fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Kathrin, I’m not going to break. I’m OK. I’m going to be fine.”

“No, I know,” she says, wiping the tears streaming down her face.

“Then, what’s wrong?” I ask, taking her hands in mine. I can feel her hands cold and shaking under my touch. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing,” she replies, a fake smile spreading across her face. She’s lying. My brain may not be fully normal, but I can still spot someone lying a mile away, especially someone I care about.

“Come here,” I tell her, patting the bed beside me. She reluctantly sits and stares straight ahead, still not speaking.

I grab her chin again and turn her face toward me, forcing her to look at me. “It’s me, Kate. You can tell me anything.”

Her face drops again as she begins wringing her hands together. “Kane, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“Hey,” I say, grabbing her hand in my own, “I’m going to be fine. I may even be able to return to my unit soon. You and I have an amazing future ahead of us.”

She blinks and a single tear streams down her cheek. “It’s just that so much has changed,” she admits.

She’s either not making sense or my brain injury is once again casting a fog over my ability to think straight.

“They’ve been changing for a long time,” she continues.

“What’s changed?” I plead. “Stop being cryptic, and tell me what is happening.”

“I met someone,” she says quietly.

Her words hit me like a bullet and I recoil from the shock. The only sound in the room is Annie’s panting as she stands with her front paws on the window and stares out into the parking lot. I close my eyes and try to go back to thirty seconds ago before she made her announcement.

“What do you mean you met someone?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm and steady.

“Kane, you’re never home. I’m always lonely.”

“That’s not an answer, Kathrin. I’m asking you to tell me what is going on,” I demand in a clipped tone.