When she returned, I was still at the tea house,
the pot long drained. I gripped the empty cup, lips pressed tight. “Who was it?”
She lowered her head. “Mr. Miller… It was your
ex–wife. They said it’s… serious. She’s at Central General. Do you want to… go?”
The cup shattered in my hand. “Get the car,” I
choked out.
At the hospital, I found Captain Thompson
pacing outside the ER, his face etched with
worry. He looked at me, guilt filling his eyes.
47
<
ivir. Ivillier, ne saiu, Im so sorry. Saran…
The ER doors swung open, a nurse rushing out
with bloody gloves. We both jumped up. “How
is she?” I demanded.
“Critical!” she yelled. “Out of my way! I need
blood!”
Through the open doors, I glimpsed a room full
of doctors, their faces grim. Sarah lay
motionless on the table, the only sound the
rhythmic beep of the machines.
The nurse reappeared with a bag of blood. I
grabbed her arm. “Let me in,” I pleaded. “I
need to be with her. I can… I can encourage
her.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Let go! You’re in the way!” She disappeared back inside, slamming the doors shut.
The wait in the hallway was agonizing. The silence was terrifying. I bargained with God. If Sarah lived, I’d do anything. We’d remarry. She wanted kids, right? We’d have kids. I was wrong, so wrong, to push her away. If she just lived, she could have anything she wanted. I’d come home early for dinner every night. We’d
<
11:09
47
take vacations. I’d never yell at her again, never
ignore her calls.
The ER doors opened. The doctor stepped out,
removing his mask. He shook his head. “She’s a
hero,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Sarah was gone.
Inside, they removed the tubes, covered her
with a sheet. Her colleagues arrived, her family.
Someone fainted.
- 10.
I stayed by Sarah’s side until the funeral. A little
girl, visiting with her family, wandered over.
“Mister,” she said, “aren’t you scared? My
mommy says this place is full of dead people
and I shouldn’t run around.”
I looked at Sarah, sleeping peacefully. I shook
my head, a faint smile touching my lips.
Scared? How could I be scared? These last few
hours were all I had left with her. After this,
she’d be gone forever. I wouldn’t even have
this.
My hand rested on the cold metal of the casket.
I couldn’t comprehend it. Sarah, so vibrant, so
- J
<
full of life… so young. How could she be gone?
She was always a tomboy. While other girls
played dress–up and danced, Sarah ran faster than most boys, her short hair flying behind her. If she saw a girl being bullied, she’d throw
punches, chasing the boys away.
She was beautiful, though. Big eyes, a straight
nose, clear skin. Especially when those big eyes
were fixed on me. It used to make my heart
race.
But she just didn’t understand men. Men
wanted to feel needed, to protect. Who wanted a girl who could handle everything herself, a girl who preferred jeans and work boots?
The little girl hadn’t left. She clutched a daisy, staring at me. “Mister,” she asked, “have you been crying?”
“Honey,” her mother called, hurrying over. She gave me a quick, pitying glance. “I told you not to wander off. This place is…” she trailed off, pulling the girl away. “Come on, sweetie.” “Mommy,” the little girl said, looking back at me, “the man was crying. His eyes were red.”
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11:09
The woman glanced back at me, then turned away. “Hush, now. Let’s go.”
I stood there, a strange laugh escaping my lips.
Had I been crying?
Yes. Ever since Sarah was brought here, my
eyes had been burning. I hadn’t cried in years. Not even during the darkest days of my startup,
when no one believed in me, when I was
begging for money. Not even when my mom died. She’d been sick for so long, her death
was a relief. I hadn’t cried then.
But Sarah… Sarah was gone. The girl who’d
always been there, tagging along, gone. The girl
who sold her condo so I could chase my
dreams, gone. The one person who believed in
me when I had nothing.
And I… I was so selfish. As I became
successful, as the money and accolades poured
in, I grew restless. I decided I needed
someone… different. Someone elegant,
sophisticated, a polished trophy wife. Not Sarah, chasing down criminals on the street.
So, I wanted a divorce. And the desire grew
<
stronger every day.
