My Second kiss

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

I knocked on Carts's door at eight o'clock the next morning. An unfamiliar nurse opened the door a crack.

She was stern. "We don't allow visitors in the ICU," she whispered and then looked behind me. "Are you alone?"

Before I could explain that my mother was parking the car, I heard Jess's voice deep inside the room. "It's okay, she's family."

The nurse hesitantly let me inside the room. Jess was standing next to Caris's bed; his arms folded tight, his eyes narrow.

I stepped to his side and whispered, "Hi." It sounded like a stupid thing to say in this place.

Jess took a deep breath and nodded at me. I didn't blame him for not saying hi back. It seemed as inappropriate as saying "good morning." I walked toward him but stopped when he jumped.

"Nurse!" he spoke directly. "The numbers on this monitor are all over the place. Is that bad?"

The nurse, who had been standing by the door writing something on a clipboard, ran to the monitor almost as immediately as he had spoken.

"Everything's fine. This is actually a good sign. It means that she is starting to breathe on her own. She may wake up soon, and it will be best if there are as few people as possible in the room when she does." She looked at me when she spoke.

Jess was watching his mother so intently that I wasn't sure he even heard what the nurse had said.

"I'll wait out in the hall," I said.

Jess glanced at me for a moment then whipped his head back to look at the monitor, where his attention stayed until I exited the room.

Four long hours-and a terrible lunch in the hospital cafeteria-later, Mom and I were finally allowed in Caris' new room on the second floor of the hospital. Caris was awake and sitting up in her bed, but she resembled a corpse with its eyes opened.

She looked older and younger at the same time. Older because her hair was matted to the back of her head and large circles appeared under her eyes where the bandages weren't covering; younger because she seemed so small and fragile-so vulnerable.

Caris was born in Ireland, which explained the tint of red in Jess's brown hair, but lived in Franklin most of her life. For the most part she had the usual American accent, but for some reason today there was a hint of Irish in her voice.

"Hi, ladies." Her voice was hoarse, and I could barely make out what she said. She almost lifted a finger to wave at us but then seemed to change her mind at the last minute. "Thank you for coming."

My mom placed her hand on Caris's bandaged hand. "How are you feeling?" She had a way of making the most common question sound truly heartfelt and sincere.

"Blessed."

Caris's answer was short, but it took me back. Blessed? Her? She just spent Christmas day unconscious and wired to a hospital bed because her ex-husband beat her with a dining room chair, and she felt blessed?

She continued slowly, "I can't say I wasn't disappointed that I missed Christmas, but I trust that you drank

some eggnog for me." Caris was particularly spry considering her condition, and I wondered how much

painkiller was being pumped into her veins right now. I exchanged a glance with Jess, who was sitting on a sofa against the far wall, that told me he was wondering the same thing. I let Mom and Caris continue their

conversation as I slowly inched my way toward the sofa. I sat down carefully next to Jess. I was worried that if I got too close to him he would crack down the middle.