Chapter 10 CHAPTER 10: Behind the Glass
Hazel
As we approached the hospital entrance, the automatic doors slid open and the sterile air conditioning of the hospital hit me on the face. I could hear my heart beating as if it would come out of my chest, each beat echoing in the white waiting room as Adam followed close behind.
"I need to see my husband. He was in a car accident. I just got the call", I blurted, voice rough with panic, at the receptionist, a young woman with blonde hair, a white nurse uniform and a name tag reading 'Sarah'.
Although Sarah's brow furrowed, she seemed unfazed by my request as her gaze flicked between me and Adam. Then a flicker of confusion crossed her face before Adam took charge. His smile was practiced, charming, a stark contrast to the raw worry etched on my features.
"Hello, Sarah," he greeted, extending a hand. "My name's Adam, and this is my friend, Hazel. We got a phone call that her husband was involved in an accident less than an hour ago."
Sarah's smile softened a fraction and her eyes crinkled on the sides as she shook Adam's hand, a touch too long for a purely professional interaction. "Nice to meet you, Adam." Her eyes then returned to me, cool and emotionless. "What's your husband's full name, ma'am?"
"William Thorn," I replied with a croaking voice.
"He's currently in the emergency room. You'll have to wait until we hear from the attending doctor."
"How long will that be?" The question tumbled out before I could stop it.
Sarah's lips pursed into a tight line. "We can only wait and see, ma'am."
"Can't you call and check?" I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.
"I understand you're worried," she said, her tone flat, "but procedure is procedure. We'll let you know as soon as we have any updates."
The weight of her words settled on me like a physical blow. My legs turned to liquid, and Adam, sensing my distress, guided me to a seat in the waiting area.
My heart hammered a frantic counterpoint to the sterile silence, each beat a drumbeat of fear.
Guilt coiled in my gut, a viper twisting uncomfortably.
What would this night have been like if not for this phone call?
Would Adam and I have finally crossed the line, a forbidden fruit tasted in the darkness?
I bit my lip hard, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. A silent prayer for William escaped my lips, a man I was bound to by circumstance, not love, but to my conscience.
That does not matter, especially since I was not forced into the marriage.
As I sat there lost in thoughts, I felt a hand settle on my shoulder, dragging me from my thoughts. Adam's face swam into view, etched with worry that mirrored my own.
"The receptionist has refused to budge on any information regarding his condition" he said, his voice low. "We're stuck with the waiting game, but try not to panic OK…everything will be alright." His hand cupped my chin, forcing eye contact. Fear flickered in his gaze, a spark that ignited a fresh wave of anxiety in me.
Before I could respond, he pulled me into a brief, awkward hug. The gesture offered a flicker of comfort, but the knot of dread in my stomach remained stubbornly tight.
"Coffee run?" he offered, his voice gentle.
“I’m going to get coffee…need anything? He offered, his voice gentle.
“No, thanks” I replied and sat down straight staring into space.
My phone buzzed, a missed call from William's father. Panic jolted through me. I dialed the number, my hand trembling as it pressed against my ear.
"Hazel! Where have you been?" His voice boomed through the receiver.
"I'm at the hospital," I stammered, "but they haven't said anything yet."
"Get something, dammit! You're his wife!"
Tears pricked at my eyes. "I tried, but the receptionist..."
"Do something, Hazel! I'm on my way. Get me an update before I get there, understand?"
"Yes, sir," I mumbled, defeated.
"Dr. Ken, this is Mrs. Hazel Thorn," the receptionist announced, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.
"Mrs. Thorn," Dr. Ken greeted, his voice gruff. "Can we talk in my office?"
My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at him, a silent plea hanging in the air. He offered a curt nod, and I followed him on trembling legs, the weight of a thousand unspoken questions pressing down on me.
Disconnecting the call, I pushed myself to my feet as determination to get answers replaced the sense of dread I was feeling as I headed to the reception for some answers.
I almost bumped into Emily in my hurry, who was also heading in the same direction.
She had bandages on her neck and her hand hung in a sling. She looked disheveled with red-rimmed eyes.
When she saw me, a flicker of panic crossed her face before morphing into a deep scowl.
“You were with Williams earlier, what happened?” I inquired; my voice tight.
“We got into an accident on the way to the airport but fortunately, I did not sustain lots of injuries but Williams…he got hurt really badly. He is in the emergency ward now, and they refuse to tell me about his condition since I am not family’ she replied, bitterness lacing her words.
“Please any update on my husband?’ I asked the receptionist
“Still nothing, ma’am” she replied, and went back to typing on her system.
Frustration bubbled over. I slammed my hand on the counter, startling the receptionist who finally looked up at me, and drawing the attention of a tall figure in a doctor's coat.
“I have been here for close to an hour and I don’t know the condition of my husband and there you are typing away with no form of human sympathy! What is wrong with you? I need to see a doctor or someone higher. I need to know what is going on with my husband”.
As I was shouting, the receptionist stood up and smiled, which made me turn, and I saw a very tall man standing beside me with weary but kind eyes. He was disheveled, sporting a day's worth of stubble, as if pulled straight from surgery. His name tag read ‘Doctor Ken’.
“Doctor, this is Mrs. Hazel Thorn’” the receptionist chirped.
“Please how is my husband…is he OK”? I asked with panic laced in my voice.
“Helo Mrs. Thorn, can we speak in my office please?”
“Is everything okay? I spoke with tears in my eyes.”
“Follow me” he replied.
I followed him on rubbery legs as my heart beat against my chest.
He opened his office door then pointed at a seat for me to take. I sat down wringing my hands, hardly able to control myself.
He sat down at the other end of the couch.
The doctor's words were a hammer blow. William was in a coma, a victim of his own reckless driving. A traumatic brain injury, the doctor said, his voice grave. Legs…uncertain.
Tears blurred my vision as a horrifying thought slithered into my mind.
The last time I saw William, he stormed out, fueled by anger. Was I, somehow, responsible?
Guilt coiled around my heart, squeezing the life out of it. I realized that, despite the fact that Williams was my contract husband, I did not want to lose him.
I felt a dull pain in my heart and my hand automatically went to my chest and I rubbed it.
The doctor stood and looked at me with tired eyes, then offered his card. "Any questions, don't hesitate to contact me." He spoke
"Can I see him?" My voice cracked.
"Come with me."
As we stepped out of his office, Adam was waiting outside and when he looked at me, worry was etched on his face. He pulled me into a hug, silent but comforting. No questions, just a silent promise of support. Together, we headed towards the ER, a pit of dread churning in my stomach.
Suddenly, a tall, stern man with gray hair in a black suit with a dark red tie materialized in our path. Mr. Thorn, William's father, his face a mask of controlled fury. Adam discreetly stepped back, leaving me exposed.
"What happened to my son?" Mr. Thorn's voice boomed, looking directly at me as if, somehow, I had caused the crash.
"Car accident, sir," I stammered, the guilt twisting further. "The doctor's taking us to see him now."
We walked towards the ER doors. As we approached the sterile white doors, the doctor halted us. "Sorry you will have to watch from the glass "he said. I clutched the glass and held my breath. The only sound I heard was the low rhythmic hum of the machines that kept Williams alive. Crisp white sheets were tucked tightly around his figure while the monitor blinks red and green hues, the beeps the only reminder and reassurance that Williams was still alive.
I turned to look at William’s father and his face was a mask of grief, then in the corner of my eyes I saw a flicker of movement in William’s bed. My heart leaped into my throat. Was he waking? But it was just a tremor, a twitch of the fingers. A false alarm, the machines resuming their monotonous symphony.
Just then, a nurse hurried past us into the room, her eyes filled with worry, then she rushed out again and returned with the doctor. Then the room erupted in a flurry of activity. The steady beep of the heart monitor morphed into a rapid, erratic series of blips. Alarms blared and panic clawed at my throat.
"What's happening?" I gasped; my voice choked with fear.
The doctor pushed past me, barking orders at the nurses. Adam's grip tightened on my hand; his knuckles were white. Mr. Thorn stood frozen, his face a canvas of raw terror.