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“It is the ti his hand off, but don’t He’s not afraid of hter My only child”

I hangdeep on my tapped-out reserves of cal soul, I didn’t knoouldn’t have let her go anywhere alone if I’d known She…she ran She was scared”

“How could you put her in that position after what she went through?” He’s hurt too, scared and angry

I get it

“We were getting through it Together Things between us just happened, and I’ht now, or ever She’s an adult, she ood for each other” I force my eyes to his, and damn it if his eyes don’t look so much like hers it hurts “I’ll take care of her Now and always”

He doesn’t answer, just sits and stares atinto me I see the father in hi, searching eyes of acharacter quickly and accurately

“She irl” His voice goes deep and low and threatening “You better take care of her She’s been through enough Now this? You goddaod I’ll kill you”

It’s a threat he didn’t need, but I understand him I meet him stare for stare, let hi who learned early on never to back down, ever, for anyone He nods, after a long tiet out and enter the hospital, ask the desk nurse for her room number

One-four-one The ICU

My boots squeak on the tile Antiseptic tang stingsvoice squawks indistinctly on the PA A young brunette in maroon scrubs hustles pastrooms, one-three-seven, one-three-nine…one-four-one The curtain is drawn A monitor beeps steadily I pause at the split in the curtain,

An older, stick-thin woman with pale blond hair pulled up in a severe bun appears next to ht now They ran a few tests, and they’re going to doany” She looks up at ainst her palm “You’re the father?”

I nearly choke at the term “I’m her boyfriend, yes” My voice is low, nearly a whisper

She realizes her gaffe “I—I’m sorry That was insensitive of o in with her, but let her sleep”

God, she’s white as snow So frail looking, like this Tubes in her nose, needles in her wrist

I sit And sit And sit I don’t talk to her because I don’t knohat to say

They come and wheel her bed ahile she’s still asleep Unconscious, not asleep Don’t need any euphemisms Will she wake up? They won’t say, which tells me maybe not

I end up in the chapel, not to pray, but to feel the silence, to be away from the smell of the hospital, the stench of sickness and death, the sounds of the sneakers on tile and echoing voices and beeping monitors Away from the faces like lea I don’t care to know about The cross is huge and empty and mud-broood, machine-tooled