Bad Timing

Ventotto

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

It was the first thing I noticed – the steady sound that played at regular intervals. Somehow, the beeping noise was calming as it rang in my ears. This was either the joyous sound of a heart monitor as it kept track of my living, beating heart rate or the waiting-line-number system going off every time someone in the line before me entered into Hell and I was waiting for my turn.

But judging by the mild pain in my head and the smell of disinfecting items, I was hopefully in a hospital room instead of a stupendously clean, waiting room of Satan.

It hurt to open my eyes. It took a couple of seconds to get used to the lighting. My eyes focused on the tiny black specks on the ceiling tiles before falling to the heart monitor, the IV bag, and all the wires connected to my arm.

Thank God I was in the hospital, tucked safely underneath a thin blanket.

Something warm was in my other hand. My eyes slowly and painfully scanned the room. Balloons, a bouquet of flowers, chocolate, a stuffed cat, and a smeared drawing of me laughing was in the corner above the dresser. Finally, my eyes landed on the hand in my own.

Evan sat in a faux leather chair with his head on the bed. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth was slightly agape as he slept silently. Judging by the dark circles surrounding his eyes and his disheveled hair, he hasn’t had a good sleep in a long time. I felt bad for waking him up, but I squeezed his hand a couple of times to let him know I was okay.

His eyelids shot open and bloodshot brown eyes looked straight into my own. It didn’t take long for him to jump out of his seat and grab my face between his hands. I tried my best to hold back my joyful and sappy tears, but it couldn’t be contained any longer when Evan started crying.

“Oh my gosh, Ems! Thank God you’re okay!” Evan wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I bit my tongue so I didn’t hiss out in pain. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Emma. I’m so sorry – “

“Shh,” I whispered, crying into my brother’s flannel and patting his back.

“I’m a horrible brother – “

“Will you shut up?” I exclaimed in a hoarse voice. “You aren’t a horrible brother. We fought. It happens.”

He handed me a cup of water. I drank the liquid, feeling it soothe my dry mouth and throat.

Evan ran a hand through his messy hair. “You almost died while we were fighting! If only I set aside my arrogance and stubbornness to admit my mistakes, you wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place!”

“Ugh,” I rolled my eyes, causing the room to tilt just a bit. “It’s not your fault.”

“Well, I almost lost you,” Evan bluntly said with a quiver.

It was quiet. I didn’t know what to say or do to take away that fear or calm him down, so I decided to change the subject.