Shift

4. Aiden

I'd had this queasy feeling lingering on the pit of my stomach ever since I'd left John alone in his office.

Spending the afternoon with Delia and her brother had kept me distracted enough, but now, as I sat before my computer, killing time with a videogame while dinner cooked in the oven, I looked back at John's haunted face.

There hadn't been anything unusual in our conversation, in the sense that we'd gone through all of those issues before: marriage, John's family, his overwhelming dedication to his patients and the heartbreak that came along with it. He'd seemed more collected when I'd left him, ready to continue with his day as usual. Yet, I couldn't shake that image when I first entered his office, his hair in disarray...

Game Over, read the monitor.

I sighed. I turned the game off and went to peek inside the oven, decided to leave the cottage pie cook for a little while longer. John prefered a crustier top.

Another fifteen minutes went by. I laid the pie on the countertop to cool down. John shouldn't be long now. Actually, he should have arrived already.

I couldn't explain the anxiety that began taking hold of me, so I figured it was best to take it off my chest. I called John. I never called John when he was on his way home.

He didn't pick up. It rang, and rang, and he didn't pick up.

I put down my cell phone and looked at the clock on the wall. It was no use. He'd be here any minute now, anyway.

Except that, the pie was cold now, and John wasn't here.

I picked up the cell phone and dialed the hospital's number.

"Bondston General Hospital, how can I help you?"

"Howard, hi," I greeted, recognizing my colleague's voice. "It's Aiden. Listen, can you check if John's still in there for me? I can't reach his cell phone..."

"Aiden..."

I could hear it on his voice, even before he said anything other than my name. Something was wrong.

"Dr. Bauer... didn't speak to you yet, did he?"

"Bauer?" I hated to hear the head of emergency's name mentioned when I was asking about John. "No, he didn't talk to me. What the fuck's going on, Howard, what happened?"

"It's John... he's been in a traffic accident. He's alive," he hurried to add.

I felt lightheaded all of a sudden. He was alive. Then, why should Bauer have talked to me instead of John himself?

"They're taking him to surgery now."

I let myself plop down on the couch. The same couch John and I had sat through a Netflix marathon yesterday, before we'd made love.

"Status?"

"Aiden, you should..."

"Give me the fucking status of the patient, Howard!"

"He's suffered severe head trauma, has come in unresponsive, raised ICP from hematoma... Boyle is with him now, decompressing."

My mind blanked. John... my John... he might be seriously injured; he might never wake up again.

"Aiden?"

"Yes."

"I'll send someone to pick you up, OK? You home?"

"Yes... but I have a car, I... I can..."

"No, Aiden, listen, just stay where you are. I'll send someone. Don't drive like that, ok?"

"Yeah... yes, OK. Thank you, Howard."

Another one of my colleagues was nice enough to come pick me up and drop me at the hospital upon ending her shift. A lot of people talked to me when I came in, some offering support, some repeating what Howard had already told me. Their words went right through me. Someone - not sure who - asked me if I wanted them to talk to John's parents. I said yes. I was in no condition to talk to anyone, let alone deliver bad news. I just wanted to speak to Dr. Boyle, I wanted her to tell me that everything was alright. And John, I really wanted to talk to John, but that wouldn't happen so soon.

"Aiden!" Delia entered the hospital's waiting room, wrapping herself around me. "I just heard what happened. How is he?"

"I... don't know." Saying it aloud created a knot in my throat, one that I forced myself to swallow down. I didn't want to cry. John was being treated, there was no reason to cry, no reason at all.

She sat on the cold plastic chairs by me, holding my hand. Her intention was the best but, together with the pitying looks I was getting from each and every member of the staff that passed by, it wasn't making this any easier.

We were there for about an hour, an hour that felt like five, before Dr. Bauer showed up. She was a tall, slender woman in her fifties. Her olive skin was grayish and she looked crestfallen. My heart stopped.

"He's stable now. They're preparing room three for him."

My legs turned to jello and I fell back on the chair, face in my hands to muffle the sobs I could no longer hold back. Delia voiced the question I wasn't able to.

"Any... permanent damage?"

"We'll have to wait and see... when he wakes up. Next few days will be critical."

I cried silently while we waited, until I could no longer cry out of exhaustion. I remember someone calling me about the car, and Delia taking the phone away from me, handling it in a not very polite manner. I didn't care in the slightest.

When they finally gave me permission to go up to John's room, I was scared about what I was going to find. I was right to be.

John's head had been completely shaved. His chest went up and down, at regular intervals, under the white sheets.One would almost think he was peacefully asleep, if it wasn't for the heavy bruising on the right side of his face and his arm, the tube going inside his mouth, the beeping and whirring monitors surrounding him.

I was used to this kind of scenario. John didn't belong in it.

Part of me just wanted to turn around, run away, and pretend this wasn't real. I wasn't so far gone, though. I stepped forward, towards the bed. My hand was shaking when I held John's limp fingers, careful not to displace the pulse oximeter clamped on his index finger. It was cold. I looked at the monitor displaying his body temperature, within normal ranges.

"He's so cold. Is that correct?" I pointed the figures on the monitor to the colleague who had accompanied me there.

"Yes, the measurement is correct. It's normal to feel that way, he's still under anesthesia," she said, like she would to any other relative, one who was completely ignorant about medical procedures. Even though my rational mind already had the information, I still felt reassured by her words.

I pulled one chair closer to the bed and sat by John. I leaned on to kiss his fingers, laying my forehead on the back of his hand. He, of course, remained still.

All sorts of stupid thoughts crossed my mind in that moment. I should have married him. I should have fucking married him.

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Yes, bad things happened...

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