Second Choice

Confusion

As much as I dreaded going to the hospital, it didn’t take long to get dressed and head down the highway. I thought about calling Laura at work or checking on my sister at school, but nothing good would come of that either. Someone would run their mouth and give me the bad news while I am driving, or it could be worse... no one would answer the phone, leaving me to conclude my thoughts that they were the ones that were killed and not the other. 

My mind started to reel off the horrific thoughts. My God, what if they both don't answer? What if they were together? What if it was so f*****g bad that they couldn't even identify the person, but if that were the case, wouldn't the police come to my home? The medal beneath my worn down brown sandals pressed to the floorboard. My head whipped back while tiny drops of rain slid down the front of my windshield. "Not again! Dammit! Not a f*****g again!" 

Thirty minutes is a long time to drive down the highway when you don't know who or what to expect from the ones you love. You have time to process your emotions. Well, at least I did. Rage. Regret that I had was working two shifts for the last several months, but now none of that matters, will it?

By the time I arrive, the rain is steady. My wipers are screeching in protest while I scan for a parking space. I almost had one spot, but a young man with a Chevy pickup truck quickly pulls into it slams on the brakes. The signs are all there. He is panicking about something, and his mind is not on the road. I get it. I take a breath and continue to look around. "This is insane," I say while scanning each row. "The hospital is packed today."

Five rows back, I discover a makeshift spot. There isn't much room. They park one vehicle close enough to the yellow lines that I have to lean my ass into the side of my car to get out. I slide my brown leather purse over my shoulder, look up, and dread the inevitable. "Here we go."

I make my way towards the emergency room to see where they want me to go. Each step is weighing me down, more burdensome, and the next and the next until I find myself and the customer service desk asking where to go.

"Name please." A man with silver hair and leathery skin ask in a cracked voice.

"You're new," I offer, but my insides are starting to crumble.

"Hmmm, I've been here," he pauses and stares at the ceiling lights and hums, "oh, I suspect five years now."

He looks back down and nods his head, "You must not come here much, Ms.?" He waits politely for my name again.

"You are a get to the point kind of man. My name is Ms.-" The agitation rises again.

Before I can finish, he interrupts me. I feel my shoulders slump forward. I am getting nowhere with him. "Yes, Ma'am, I take my line of business very seriously." He coughs and grabs a tissue from the tissue box. I watch while he blows his nose with no hurries in the world.

"So... I got a phone call." I snip.

He stops and wipes his nose once more and sets the nasty tissue next to the keyboard. "Ohhh, you got 'the call.'"

"Mmm," he looks around his desk."sorry to hear that. Let's get your name and get you some help, Ms?"

"Ms. McDowell." 

"Ms. McDowell? Hmm," The man takes his time typing. Once again, I feel the urge to check my phone, but I am just not brave enough to see who it is.

"Ah," he points at the screen "Fourth Floor, Room 417."

"Um, I am sorry, You are mistaken. That is the uh narcotics unit. I am not here to visit anyone. I am here to um... identify someone."

A cold hand gently touches the side of my skin.  I turn around and see a young nurse with wavy auburn hair in a loose-fitting bun, wearing pastel blue scrubs with daisies decorated all over them. Her emerald eyes are warm and friendly. Her full lips smile at the corner. She pulls her hand back and rubs them together. "Oh dear, I am so sorry. My hands stay cold like ninety percent of the time."

I stare at her in confusion, trying to understand why she is talking to me. "Ms. Mcdowell, I am Nurse Hallaway. I know this may be all terribly confusing for you."

There was something about the nurse I didn't mind, I steadied myself and attempted to listen. "Yes," Is all I could manage.

"Let's get you upstairs so I can explain everything out. Then, we can get all the legal mess out of the way."

I adjust my purse and tuck my hair behind my ear. "Okay." 

Nurse Hallaway nods and walks towards the back of the hospital where we are to take the elevator. We follow the long hallway, past the gift shop, and x-ray room. She respects my time without asking for too much small talk. After arriving on the fourth floor, we make past a few patients and cleaning carts. Everything smells like sterile alcohol. 

"I just don't understand," I blurted out. "I thought I was here to identify a body."

"Just a few more minutes, Ms. McDowell." She glances over her shoulder and promises.

"Wonderful," I mumble.

Nurse Hallaway suddenly stops. I almost trip but catch myself. She grabs a clipboard from a partially opened doorway. I look up and notice that we have arrived in room 417 — a knot forms in the center of my throat. I get nauseated and can barely swallow, knowing it is down to this very moment of identifying my sister or Laura. "f**k! I start to pace back and forth. "f**k! I-I thought I had this! I don't know if I can!"

I stop and throw my hands in surrender, "Maybe you should call someone else. You know, give them a go at it for a change!"

The nurse smiles, letting me know she understands, "I am so sorry, this won't take but a few minutes, okay?" Her eyes glistening with tears, but she is trying her best to be professional. All I can do is stop and nod.

I take a silent breath, close my eyes, then open them again, "Okay,"  I whisper.

She nods and knocks three times, but no one answers. "They must be in the restroom."

"Who? Someone else is here too?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

 "Well, then maybe we should come back?" I offer and start stepping back away from the door.

The nurse ignores me and pushes the door open."What? You don't believe in privacy?"

"I am sure that I have seen all they have had before."

"What the hell does that mean?" I ask, confused, and walk into the room, but my mind stops when I see a strange woman lying on the bed. Her body appears frail and her chestnut brown hair is matted to the white hospital pillow. My mouth parts as I stare at her long neck and mouth covered in tubes. I look down where the sheets curl around her stomach. Poking out from the sides are thin, arms covered in bruises. "Poor woman," I whisper.

"I know," The nurse agreed.

"But, I am sorry Ma'am, I still don't understand why this has anything to do with me?"

The door clicks from the bathroom. A tiny light peaks through the wooden floors. I listen as the toilet flushes and whoever it is to wash their hands. 

They sure better have some f*****g explaining to do. 

The light cuts off, and I hear heavy feet shuffling slowly across the floor. The door slowly opens. I stare, not understanding why or how.

"Dusty? What are you doing here?"