A million arguments are on the tip of his tongue as to why he shouldn’t do this, but with one more pleading look from my girl, he finally concedes.
After giving him quick directions, he reluctantly grabs the bag and heads off once he’s confident we’ll call him if anything changes.
It’s not until he’s gone and the sound of a door closing behind him fills the silent corridor that Jodie speaks.
“He’s not going to cope if—” She bites back the end of that sentence, not willing to say the words out loud.
“He will. You both will. Because if that happens, then it’s what she would want.”
“Fuck,” Jodie breathes, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “This is so fucking hard. Losing Joe and… yeah… that was a shock. But it was done, it was quick. It was anything but painless, but this… it’s not knowing. Fuck, it’s heartbreaking.”
“I know, baby.” I know it’s not the same, not by a long shot, but I felt a little of the uselessness, the desperation she’s feeling now every time I sat with Mum while she was having treatment. She was with me though, talking to me, aware of everything. But still, we had no idea if it was going to work, if we were living on false hope.
It’s nothing compared to Sara’s situation now, but I get it, I really do.
The door beside us opens and a nurse walks out, quickly followed by a doctor and then another nurse. Their expressions are anything but hopeful, and a little bit of me dies inside and I’ve never met the girl. I can only imagine how it affects Jodie.
My girl hops to her feet faster than she should with her stitches and injuries. “Are there any updates? Improvements?” she begs, and my heart aches when they all turn to look at her with grim expressions.
“I’m sorry, no. She’s critical but stable. She hasn’t improved, but equally, she’s not declining.”
All the air rushes from Jodie’s lungs, and I pull her into my arms.
“I wish I could be more helpful. We’ve done everything we can. It’s up to her now.”
“Can we go in and see her?” Jodie’s voice trembles as she tries to fight the emotion swarming inside her.
“You can,” the doctor says, his eyes locking with mine in warning.
“Where’s Jesse?” one of the nurses asks.
“Jodie convinced him to go and get cleaned up,” I explain.
“How did you manage that? We’ve been trying since the second he arrived. Hasn’t even let us anywhere near that damn wound.”
“My girl’s got magical powers,” I say, trying to force some lightness into the situation.
“You guys had better get in there then and see what you can do,” one of the nurses says.
Jodie rushes toward the door as I catch the eyes of the doctor who is still lingering, I assume to answer any questions we have, but Jodie doesn’t seem interested in the reality of Sara’s situation. She just wants to be near her.
“Thank you for everything you’re doing,” I say as Jodie slips into the room, her loud gasp of shock filtering down to us.
“You’re welcome. But I really think it’s important you try to all prepare for the worst here.”
I nod, taking his stark warning on board as I look toward the door.
“Go and support her. We’ll be right out here,” the nurse urges with a soft, sympathetic smile.
Turning my back on the three of them, I rush forward in search of my girl.
I find her standing at the end of Sara’s bed with her arms wrapped around herself, as if she’s hoping that will be enough to hold her together.
Her heavy breathing can easily be heard over the beeping and whirring of the machines that surround her friend, keeping her alive.
Wrapping my own arms around her, I rest my chin on her shoulder.
“I’m right here, baby,” I whisper in her ear as my eyes take in Sara.