-Cara-
I walked away. I walked away from the car/ambulance with minimal injuries. A few cuts and scratches there, but it's way less than what I get at home. Gemma wasn't so lucky. I stare at my best friend, she's lying in this baggy white hospital gown that makes her look more fragile than is good for my sanity. The hospital bed is rather a painful sight. I mean, I've lain in one myself so i know they're not the most comfortable thing, but Gemma looks so peaceful. I know she's not in a coma, she just looks so, gone. I wipe a few tears from my cheeks and brush my curls from the sticky mess that is my face.
Sitting in this room is causing the familiar claustrophobia try to force itself up from where I've hidden it. It tries to make me panic with wave after wave of nausea and labored breathing, but I've got to be strong for Gemma. I look down on her bruised face and just smooth her hair back, just have to touch her to know that she's still here. Know that not everyone is going to leave me. She's still here, I think as i take a deep breath.
I glance at the door as someone enters, but it isn't her parents it's just the blonde nurse. "You okay, honey?" she asks in a charming sort of southern sounding drawl. I just nod, but she looks skeptical and reaches to the bedside table to hand me some kleenex.
She makes a motion for me to scoot over on the loveseat and takes the space beside me. "It's just a sleep. Gemma's just resting." she whispers as she wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me against her. "She's perfect. Look at 'er. She's okay, just sleepy." I lay my head on her shoulder and she moves her hand to rub soothing circles on my cheek. "Gemma's just resting, sweetheart." she repeats.
"Part of me knows that, Shelly." I sigh "The other part of me is terrified because of all the possibilities. Everything that could go wrong. Gemma's all I have left."
"Well," Shelly says, taking a breath before continuing, "in that case, all you can do is pray. She's still here. Trust in the fact that she's still breathing. Still moving, look at those pretty lips tremble. She's talking in her dream. She'll be fine." She releases me and pats my cheek one last time. "You'll be fine too." The look on her face as she says this, is the look of not pity, it's empathy. And in that room, alone when Shelly leaves, I bow my head and say the first prayer I've said in years.
"Dear God, please. I know I haven't talked to you lately. But she's all iI have. Please let her be okay again."
