I took my time tapping my screen, typing the words “My daughters...Ashley and Caroline” before holding out the phone to her.
“Okay. I’ll do that right now...” She smiled and scrolled through my contacts. “Hello may I speak to Ashley please? No, this is...No, I...Your mom is in the hospital, hun. She can’t speak right now but she wants you to know she’s okay...Calm down, calm down...Well, yes... She wanted me to call you and your sister to let you know...St Francis Hospital, room fifty thirty, east wing. Okay sweetheart. Goodbye.”
She adjusted my pillow and handed the phone back to me. “Anyone else?”
I typed my mother and she called and left a voicemail. After that, I asked her to call Rita—typing “take over for me this week” as the message I wanted to give. And after I had her call Greg—who apparently had been in the waiting room since I arrived last night, I managed a smile to let her know that was it.
“You don’t want me to call your fiancée?” She cleared her throat.
I looked down at my phone and scrolled through my missed calls: Greg, Greg, Greg, Ryan, Greg, Greg, Greg, Ryan. There were a few calls from my business, but not a single call from Jonathan.
I typed “NO” onto my screen and held it up to her.
“Okay then...Well, I’ll be back to check on you shortly, Miss Gracen. If you can think of anything else you may want, just hit the blue call button on the remote and one of the nurses will see that you get it.”
I smiled again and she left the room.
I’d heard her list all my injuries, but it seemed so surreal, especially since I couldn’t “feel” anything. My body was so numb I could barely feel my tongue licking my lips.
Confused, I slowly lifted my right hand in front of my face and stared at the mini gray remote they’d secured in the middle of my palm. There were four buttons: “Call Nurse” “Television” “Volume” “Lights”
I hit the television button and held the lights button until the room went completely dark. As luck would have it, the TV was already set on HGTV and a marathon of one of my favorite shows—Yard Crashers was on.
I lay there in bed for hours, watching them remodel yard after yard, until I couldn’t hold my eyes open anymore.
“Do you think she wants that Jell-O?” “Probably not...She’s never really liked Jell-O.” “Do you think she wants that chicken?” “We could just ask the nurse to bring her some more...”
I opened my eyes and saw Ashley and Caroline taking spoonfuls of my green Jell-O. I tried to sit up, but Caroline shook her head and gasped. “Stop. You’re only going to hurt yourself. They told us you’re not supposed to move.”
Sighing, I nodded and cleared my throat. “When did you get here?”
“Last night. Jonathan flew us in right after we talked to the nurse.” “He got us a room at the Marriott across the street.”
So he knows I’m here and he’s not by my side?
“Oh...” My throat hurt. “Well, that’s great.”
They exchanged glances, and as if they could read my mind, Ashley poured me a glass of water and Caroline adjusted my pillow so I could sit up and drink.
“Grandma’s on her way over too.” Ashley said. “We all came by earlier today but you wouldn’t wake up...Are you in pain?”
“No...”
“They told us you’re going to have to stay here for a few more days and that you’ll have to wear a sling for a couple weeks.” “They say you’ll be healed in time to walk down the aisle...”
I’m not walking down the aisle... “They told me that too...”
“They did?” Caroline smiled. “Well, when you get a chance maybe you can explain that to Jonathan. He seems to think they’re lying. He wants them to run every test they have.”
I wanted to laugh, but even that was too hard. And there was nothing funny about Jonathan Statham right now.
“We’re going to run down to the cafeteria.” Ashley looked into my eyes. “Can we get you anything? Soup maybe?”
“No thank you.”
“I think we should get her some anyway.” “Me too, she’s probably too tired to realize that’s what she wants.”
I rolled my eyes as they walked out of the room, and before I could turn the lights off, I saw Jonathan standing in the doorway.
I looked away and stared straight ahead, pressing the TV button on my mini remote. I would have rather watched the paint mixing show than talk to him right now.
“Claire...” His voice was low.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t believe he’d ignored all my calls for two weeks, couldn’t believe he hadn’t called after not hearing from me in almost two days.
“Claire, how are you feeling today?” His voice was hoarse.
I turned the volume up.
“You’re not talking to me?”
“I’ve been calling you for two weeks.” I kept my eyes glued to the TV. “I’ve clearly been trying to talk to you.”