Several sets of electric doors opened on the way, and Page tried to force herself back to reality. For a minute, she had been thinking about Brad and all he had told her. But she knew that seeing Allyson would require her full attention. But what she saw when she approached the gurney Allyson was lying on was far from encouraging.
If anything, she looked worse than she had before surgery. The bandage on her head looked frightening, her head had been shaved, her face was deathly pale, and she seemed to be surrounded by monitors and machines. She seemed a million miles away, in her coma.
The operating room nurse had saved a long silky blond lock of hair for Page, and the recovery room nurse handed it to her as soon as she saw her. It brought tears to Page's eyes again, as she clutched the lock of hair in one hand, and gently touched Allyson with the other.
Page stood quietly next to her for a long time, gently touching her hand, and thinking of how life had been only two days before. How was it possible that everything had gone so wrong so quickly? It made you no longer trust anyone or anything, surely not the fates, or destiny. How cruel they had been … as had Brad. … As Page thought of it, she almost couldn't bear the pain of losing Allie. It reminded her of how she had felt years before when Andy was born, and they had thought they might lose him. She had spent hours staring at him, willing him to live, his tiny body filled with tubes, struggling in the incubator. And miraculously, he had made it.
Page sat down next to her, on a small stool, and spoke softly into the bandaged ears, praying that she would hear her. “I won't let you go, sweetheart … I won't … we need you … I love you too much …you have to be a brave girl and fight now …baby, you have to! … I love you, sweetheart … no matter what, you'll always be my baby.” Allie smelled of medical things, and the machines beeped now and then, but there was no sound, no move, no gesture of recognition, as Page knew there couldn't have been, but she needed to talk to her, to feel her near her.
The nurses let her stay with Allyson for a long time, and then finally, when the shift changed at seven o'clock, they suggested she go to the cafeteria and get some coffee. She went to the waiting room instead, and sat there dazed, thinking of Allie as she had been, and as she was now. She didn't even hear anyone come in, until someone touched her arm, and she looked up and saw Trygve. He was clean, and shaven, and he was wearing a crisp white shirt and jeans, his thick blond hair was neat, and he seemed rested and healthy. But as he looked at her, he seemed worried. It was Monday morning, the weekend had taken a brutal toll on her.
“Have you been here all night again?”
She nodded. She looked terrible, even worse than she had the day before. But he understood only too well how desperately she wanted to be with Allie.
“I slept in the waiting room.” She tried to smile at him, but she looked wretched.
“Did you sleep?” he asked, sounding like a stern father.
“A little.” She smiled at him. “Enough. They let me see Allie this morning, in the recovery room.”
“How was she?”
“About the same, I guess. But it was nice just being with her.” At least she was still there with them, at least Page could still reach out and touch her. She couldn't bear the thought of it, and all she wanted now was to be back in the recovery room with her again, telling her how much she loved her. “How's Chloe?”
“Asleep. I just checked on her. They're keeping her pretty blitzed, so she's not aware of the pain, and I think that's probably the best thing for her.”
She nodded at him, as he sat down next to her. “Are the boys okay?”
“More or less. Bjorn was pretty shook up when he saw her. I asked his doctor about it before he came, and he thought it was important for him. He doesn't really understand things sometimes unless he sees them. But it was hard for him. He cried a lot last night, and he had nightmares.”
“Poor kid.” She was sad for him. How difficult life was sometimes. How unfair. It was so hard to understand it.
“How's Andy?”
“Scared. Brad was telling him Allie's going to be fine, and I was less reassuring. I don't think it's fair to mislead him.”
“I agree. But Brad's probably having trouble coping with it himself. Denial is easier sometimes.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” she said, sounding as disenchanted and disillusioned as she felt.
“This is a dumb question,” he said, “but are you okay? I mean …considering what's happening. You look beat.”
“I am. I'll get used to it, I guess …eventually … or something.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I don't know …last night …yesterday … I made Andy pizza for dinner last night and took a bite …something like that.”