I nervously tapped my feet against the cold linoleum floor. Amidst the white jackets and bleached uniforms, my torn blue jacket stood out in the waiting room. I had spent hours here already. I felt my legs losing all feeling, the hours I had spent in cramped in this chair were taking its toll. People beside me spoke indecipherably, their words a jumbled mess of concern and worry and prayers. I had no one beside me to voice my concern with. Instead, my eyes stared blankly ahead, searching for the lean doctor who had whisked her away. I trembled with anticipation, my palms clammy, my head swimming. My jaw clenched tightly as I lightly whispered a prayer of my own. The suspense overwhelmed my mind, until she was all I could think about.
I saw the doctor escape from the narrow white corridors. I leapt to my feet, flying across the floor to his side. His face was obscured by plastic shield and a mask so tight it bruised his skin. “Well?” I questioned. My voice was desperate, and my stare forced him to back away from me. His eyes softened with pity.
My stomach dropped.
“Come with me” he motioned towards the corridor. I took a careful step after him.
I could see her lying there, eyes closed, her mechanical ventilator clicking as her chest rose and fell. Her lips were blue and her hands lay weakly by her side. “She’ll be okay?” I demanded more than asked.
“We don’t know.” He said. “We’re trying our best. Do you know how she might have got it?”
My heart sunk into my stomach. I did, but the guilt that coursed through me left my tongue dry like sandpaper, and unable to move. I tried to look back up at the doctor, but my vision blurred, and I couldn’t focus on his questioning eyes.
Instead I was back at the party again, the blue lights flashed brightly mirroring the thumping of the bass, to lyrics I was too hazed to understand. I remember stealing unfinished drinks, slipping past the crowd of chanting people, sweaty and elbowing their way past me. I remember being trapped amidst the crowd, close enough to hear the drunk lyrics they all screamed individually. I remember stumbling back home, my eyes half closed, mind cloudy and head throbbing.
Most of all, I remember sinking back into my sister’s arms at home. I remember how she patted my head to sleep, reprimanding me softly. I remember how she fed me soup the next morning, nursing me to health.
How, within the next week, she could barely stand, coughing and hacking until I had to drag her to the doctor.
It was my fault.
“I’m not sure.” I managed to say. My throat closed up and tears threatened to spill from behind my eyes. The guilt burned through my chest now as I picked up her limp hand where her pulse lightly pulsated. I needed her to open her eyes, to promise me everything would be okay, just as she had always done.
“I’m sorry” I whispered to her.
Her hand gently squeezed mine.
