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“Ben. I love Ben. Where’s Ben?”
Fuzzy faces frown.
“He’s still in surgery, sweetie.”
“Why? I want him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be out soon.”
“Tell him. Tell him I want him.”
“Okay, Holly. We’ll tell him.”
“Good. That’s good.”
I shift and squirm. This mattress sucks. I hate this mattress. I want my mattress.
“Pops. Pops. Pops.”
“Yes, Holly?”
“I want my mattress.”
“I know, Holly. You’ve been saying that for the last five minutes.”
“Did you tell Ben I want him?”
“Why don’t you rest your throat, Holly? It must be sore from the breathing tube.”
My throat? My throat is sore. My throat is sore.
At some point my thoughts begin to stitch together properly. Everything loses the blurry edging, and I stop blurting out every random string of words that flows across my mind.
That doesn’t change the fact that I want to see Ben. His parents are in my room. I don’t mind, but shouldn’t they be with him?
Why isn’t he in a recovery room like me?
I can’t remember asking anyone how much longer his surgery would be than mine.
My four visitors deal with the time in their own way. Marcus has his sketchbook propped on his knee. No surprise there. Pops reads a book. Likely, it’s some historical biography. He never has been a fan of fiction. Mr. Gerhard has a file open in his lap, but I haven’t seen him flip to a new sheet of paper since I became lucid enough to notice things like that. Mrs. Gerhard has an iPad in her lap, but like her husband, she hasn’t touched it. They watch the clock and the door.
“Pops?”
He uses his finger to mark the page and turns to look at me.
“How long since I’ve been out of surgery?”
He checks his watch. “Close to two hours now.”
Two hours, and the Gerhards are still here. My mind might be stuttering by at a slower rate right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel fear.
If I had my striped notebook, I’d write out a list. That always helps to calm me down. Instead, I try to make one in my head.
When Ben and I are better, we will:
1. Eat delicious food, like croissants and crab fries.
2. Go on more official dates, and I’ll buy him a boutonniere.
