Page 69 of Lift Me Up

GEORGIE

YOUR MOTHER JUST TEXTED ME

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME

GEORGE I SWEAR TO GOD

There's a break between her older messages and one that just came in a few minutes ago.

Franny:

I love you, George. I'm worried. Please message me when you can.

Georgie:

I love you, Francis. I'm alive. Will text when I don't feel like dying. Please take care of Birdie for me. xx

To which I get an image back of my baby girl Birdie in Franny's house, curled up on Bennie's enormous fluffy dog bed. Birdie looks so sad; it breaks my heart. But in the next image she's sleeping peacefully, and Bennie is spooning her in a cuddle with his paw over her side.

I then turn my attention to the person who sent the largest number of notifications.

Noah

Georgie

Georgie please.

Where are you?

I'm freaking out, please answer.

Georgie, I mean it.

Georgia

Georgia Wright please for the love of god I need to know you're okay...

Please.

Please just tell me what's going on. Please don't pull away. You promised.

I see so many more messages, begging me to tell him, begging me to answer at all, telling me he's worried, he's talked to Franny who also doesn't know anything, and then he goes silent. For minutes, he said nothing. I assume this was when my mom called him. Because then? It's the message that breaks my heart in a single word.

Noah:

Why?

I can't. I can't do it. I can see how badly I've torn him apart; I've let him get attached. Hell, I've gotten attached. But I can't let him fall in love with me. I can't let him feel this way. I love him enough to let him go. I clear my throat, blink away the tears and put down the phone without another word. I continue to focus on breathing through the pain still rearing its ugly head, so I don't freak the nurses out.

"She's in here." When I open my eyes, I think I see Noah standing in front of me. But when I blink again, it's a tall doctor in a white coat who smiles at me and pats my foot gently.

"Georgia, Joanna tells me you're still in pain. I just wanted to update you," He goes on to tell me everything I already know. Cellulitis from the original site of infection from the procedure, led to sepsis because the oral antibiotics were—shockingly—not working. They've got me on antibiotics now they hope will work, wide-open fluids for dehydration, and pain meds accordingly. Those, as promised, are pushing in my IV and the second they kick in, I sigh in relief. It's not perfect, it never will be. But it's enough to make my heart rate slow to a normal rhythm, enough to make my tongue feel heavy and my eyelids slip, despite my trying to stay awake until my mom got back. The doctor tells me he hopes to have me out of here in a few days after tests and antibiotic overload. He pats my foot again to signal his leaving.

"Thank you." I breathe out softly. A thought enters my mind, and I open my eyes long enough to say Joanna's name and have her turn around to smile at me.

"Yes?"

"I need you to do something for me. Please."