I clicked the second text message.
“In case you didn’t recognize the number, this is Beth. Please call me.”
Oh hell no.
Instead, I called Vicki.
Lying back on my bed, I waited as the call connected.
“How are you?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.
Hearing my friend’s voice opened the floodgates to the tears I’d kept mostly at bay while downstairs. “I’ve been better,” I managed to say. “How are you? Vicki, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop it, Jules. I’m fine. I still want to see my best friend get married.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
“Have you heard from Van?”
“No. Nothing. What do you think he’s going through? I mean, you’re going to be a doctor. What does your mom say?”
“That’s like asking WebMD. Don’t do it. There are always worst-case scenarios. The press release didn’t give any definitive information. ‘Mr. Donovan Sherman suffered a gunshot wound’ is hardly enough to go by. He could have been grazed.”
“And Lifelined?”
“Most likely not grazed.”
My throat clogged with sobs I didn’t want to release. “I need to find him.”
“Are you going to drive?” Vicki asked. “I worry about you. Smoke can be a bitch. You shouldn’t drive alone. It takes time before you fully recover—”
“I can’t stay here. The thing is, I don’t know where he is.”
“You can stay with me. That invitation is always open.”
Her offer made me smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ve done some searching,” Vicki admitted. “Some things are public record.”
I sat up. “What did you learn?”
“University of Wisconsin Hospitals in Madison is nationally ranked in trauma. It’s the top hospital in the state.”
Madison—ironic.
Vicki continued, “While the name of the patient was withheld, there’s record of a helicopter transfer from Memorial Medical Center in Ashland to University of Wisconsin Hospitals on Saturday early evening.”
“He’s there,” I said with more hope than I’d had.
“Babe, it’s a large complex. It’s not like walking into a small-town hospital.”
“I don’t care. I’m going to Madison.”
Julia
Sleep came and went as I tossed and turned. Multiple times I turned on the light, the one upon the bedside stand, and stared out at the walls. The empty shelves mocked me as did the uncluttered closet. No matter how many times I said goodbye to my bedroom, I continually found myself sucked back in. Much the same as a black hole in space, my family’s home had a gravitational pull I couldn’t seem to beat. Each time I tried to leave, the gravity pulled me back. Even light couldn’t survive.
The corners of my room were perfect examples of shadows hiding beyond light’s reach.