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“Say that again.”
My throat, my mouth, my whole body feel dry, like a husk. I can’t say it again.
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know, but she needs to stop trying to talk.”
“Is she in pain?”
“She shouldn’t be. I gave her enough morphine.”
“She has to make it.”
“She will. She’s strong.”
***
BEFORE I OPEN MY EYES, I become aware of my labored breathing, strained voices and shuffling steps. The word I’ve been trying to say sits like a practiced verse on my lips. It rolls off easily and this time I’m strong enough to make myself heard.
“Xave.”
Someone squeezes my hand. “Hey, sweetie. Can you open your eyes?”
“Xave.”
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
No, it’s not okay. My eyes spring open. I want to know where Xave is.
Kristen stands over me. Other indistinguishable figures surround me.
“Xave,” I repeat as forcefully as I can, which isn’t saying much. Hot irons press against my ribs with the effort of saying his name.
“Calm down.” James appears next to Kristen. “We’re at The Tank. Clark and Xave don’t know this place.”
They don’t know if Xave’s okay. They still don’t know anything! If I could scream, I would. I struggle, feebly. Yet it’s enough to get a reaction.
“I’ll go find him for you. I promise,” James says.
“No, I’ll go.” It’s Aydan. I must be in really rough shape if he’s offering to help.
Kristen calls the shots. “C’mon, let’s take her in for an X-ray. Then I’ll hook her to an IV.”
***
I SLIP IN AND OUT OF consciousness. My lips move in a constant litany no matter whether I’m awake or dreaming. I don’t know other words. Only Xave’s name. In my semi-wakeful moments, the pain is just a dull, faraway thing. There’s something on my face, but my hands don’t obey me when I order them to fling it away.
How long have I been here? If they told me it’s been five years, I’d believe them. If they said five seconds, I’d believe them too.
Suddenly, I’m awake, staring at James who is sitting on a chair next to me. He’s still wearing the same clothes. There are scratches on his arms and a bandage on the side of his neck. I guess I haven’t been out that long.
“Where’s Xave?” I demand in a hoarse whisper. “You promised to find him.”
James straightens from his slumped position on the chair.
“You look better,” he says.
My tongue feels like sandpaper. I swallow a dry lump. “Where is he?”
“You are one determined pain in the ass.” James laughs and walks toward the door. “I’ll go get Kristen.”
“You promised,” I croak.
“Hey.”
My heart skips a beat, then begins to thud at a higher pace. Slowly, I look to my left. Xave is sitting right next to the bed. A small smile tweaks his mouth, in spite of the concern brimming in his beautiful, hazel eyes. I exhale a thousand pounds of apprehension and inhale the peace of his presence.
“What happened to you? Are you all right?” I croak.
Xave gives an incredulous snort. “Am I all right? You silly goose!”
He hasn’t called me that in a very long time. When we were little, I learned the endearment from Dad and used it on Xave. He used it back a few times and, apparently, still remembers it. Something stings in my eyes. It must have something to do with the dull throbbing in my head.
Hesitantly, Xave takes my hand. An unearthly feeling prickles through my body till it collects in my core, making me feel like a smoldering ember inside.
He shakes his head, glaring at me. “What the hell were you doing in there, Marci?”
“They didn’t explain?” I ask, unsure of what to say. The fact that he’s here at The Tank raises a lot of questions. I don’t know how much James told him.
“I just got here. I came straight to see you. Besides, it’s a mad house out there.” He gestures toward the door with his head.
“Why? What’s happening?”
“Forget that. I want you to tell me why you went inside that clinic. You were supposed to be in the van, helping that pompous jackass. Next thing I know you’re inside the freakin’ building.” The heat in his words, although subdued compared to what I’m used to, shows the same anger raging in his quick-tempered, hard head.
I clear my throat and make a big show of swallowing, which isn’t that hard to do since I’m parched.
“Is there any water?” I look around the room.
With a frustrated sigh, Xave stands and pours some water from a pitcher on the side table. He sticks a straw in the white Styrofoam cup and puts it to my lips. I manage a few sips, but when my stomach threatens to send it back, I shake my head. Setting the cup back on the table, he sits and takes my hand, igniting me all over again. He glares at me.
We look at each other for a long moment, then I say, “It’s hard to talk with all these bandages against my ribs. Why don’t you tell me what happened to you? The others can explain why I had to go in. Or I can tell you when I feel better.” Strangely, I feel as if I could break into a dissertation of my side of the story, but instead I wince and hold my side, pretending it hurts more than it does. I’m surprised by how well I feel, considering that just hours ago I thought I was going to die. My pain tolerance must be super low. What a wimp.
My bit of acting douses Xave’s anger and replaces it with concern. It’s wrong to worry him, considering how upset I was when I didn’t know if he was okay, but I can’t risk revealing something I shouldn’t.
Xave humors me and begins his story. “That jackass kept me out of the loop.”
I’m guessing he means Aydan, but I don’t know why he keeps calling him a jackass. I mean, I know he’s a jackass, but I don’t know how Xave reached the same conclusion so soon. I resolve not to interrupt, hoping any questions I have are answered along the way.
“I had no idea what was going on. I sent Clark a text, telling him my earpiece wasn’t working anymore, although at first it was receiving with no problems. He texted me back, said he’d let me know anything important. A while later, I get another text saying you’d gone in.”
Xave squeezes my hand and stares at it, as if to make sure it’s real. I squeeze back. He looks up, surprised, then tries to hide his reaction by jumping back into the story.
As I listen, I hold on tightly, wondering how to make things right between us and hoping to find the courage.