Page 2 of Falling for my First Crush

Everyone agrees, and Violet heads into the kitchen to get more snacks. I can feel excitement over the book selection pulsing through me, and I can’t wait to get home to see if we have the book, so I can start reading right away.

One

JACKIE

I’m still thinking about the first few chapters of Little Women at work the next afternoon. It’s almost time to clock out, and I still have some paperwork to finish up. I’m supposed to meet my sister, Sabina, in the cafeteria soon to grab a coffee. We haven’t been able to spend much time together the past few weeks, but now that she’s doing counseling as part of the hospital’s inaugural Wounded Veteran program, we will be able to hang out twice a week after she’s finished with counseling and I’m done with my shift.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I ignore the noise, while I type up the notes for a particularly difficult patient that I have right now. She’s here recovering from ankle surgery, which was fairly extensive, from what I understand. She jumped off a balcony, aiming for a friend’s pool, but landed on the concrete deck instead. Despite the fact that she just had her whole ankle reconstructed, and she’s going to require months of physical therapy, she keeps trying to get out of bed to walk to the bathroom.

My phone buzzes again, so I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Sabina. I answer, “Hey, sis.”

“I’m done with therapy,” Sabina says. Her tone is flat, like it has been since she was injured in combat and sent home. It’s been over a year, and she has yet to regain any of her usual spark back. We are all hoping that the Wounded Vet program here at the hospital will help her get back in touch with herself.

“I just have to finish up the documentation from my shift, and then we can grab coffee in the cafeteria before I take you home,” I say, trying to sound upbeat, despite feeling dead on my feet. I tuck a strand of short brown hair behind my ear and shift the phone a little so I can hear her better.

“I don’t want to get coffee anymore,” Sabina says. She sounds weary, and my heart breaks for her.

“That’s okay,” I say. “We can do that another time. Just hang out in the lobby for a few minutes, and I’ll drive you home. I’m almost done, I promise.”

Sabina sighs. There is a long silence on her end. Finally she says, “Okay, I guess.”

She hangs up without waiting for a response from me. I sigh now and then set my phone down next to the computer. I miss the old Sabina, but I know that pining for the someone that my sister used to be isn’t productive in any way. She needs all of us to support her where she is now.

I was the one who suggested that she apply to the Wounded Vet program here at the hospital. The aim of the program is to take a more holistic approach to healing. There is a physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and social component to the program. The inaugural class of soldiers being served is small, but hopefully the effort will pay off.

Sabina was chosen for the severity of her combat-related traumatic brain injury and everything she suffered when she was waiting to be rescued as a POW. I don’t know much about the incident, because she won’t share any of the details with us. All I really know is from the bits and pieces I have gleaned from my parents. Whatever happened was certainly awful, though.

I force my attention back to the patient write-ups in front of me. My fingers fly across the keyboard, as I rush to finish. I am still careful to document everything that happens on my shifts, though. I take my responsibility to my patients seriously, and I know that these notes will help with their continuity of care. By the time I close out of the program, my stomach is twisting from stress.

Grabbing my purse and jacket, I wave a hasty goodbye to Melody, my charge nurse, and sprint to the elevators. I jab the down button harder than I need to, and my knuckle hurts from the jolt of the impact. I wince and remind myself to take a deep breath. I know that I’m just feeling anxious because I want to get to Sabina. Of all my sisters, Sabina is the one I feel most protective of, which is odd, since I’m the youngest.

There are four of us girls in my family. The Moretti Sisters; that’s how we were referred to growing up. Gianna, Maia, Sabina, and me, Giacomina. I’m the only one with a nickname. “Jackie” was just easier for my sisters to say when they were little. I don’t mind. Giacomina is a mouthful, even as an adult. Jackie suits me.

The elevator doors open with a ding, and I hurry on. The Wounded Vet program is located on the second floor. For some reason, the ride from the fourth floor feels interminable today. I tap my foot against the floor. Finally, the elevator gets to the floor, and I hurry off as soon as the doors open.

I look around the spacious lobby waiting room area for the program, but I don’t see Sabina anywhere. I know that I told her to wait here for me, but maybe she’s still in a session. She could have forgotten that she had another one.

The receptionist looks up as I approach the desk. “Hi,” she says, smiling brightly. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Jackie Moretti,” I say. “I’m supposed to meet my sister, Sabina Moretti here, but I don’t see her. I’m wondering if maybe she had another session that she didn’t remember?”

“Let me check that for you,” the receptionist says. “Hmmm, no, she finished fifteen minutes ago. I think I remember seeing her leave actually.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say. I walk across the lobby to stand near a bank of windows that overlooks the parking lot in front of the hospital. Since Sabina can’t drive, she would either be picked up out there or grab the bus that comes by once an hour. I don’t see her there, so I pull out my phone to text her.

While I wait for a response, I chew on my lower lip. Ever since Sabina returned from her overseas tour of duty, she’s been depressed. It was agreed among us sisters that we were going to keep an eye on her. We give her rides to places, because her TBI (traumatic brain injury) makes it so that she can’t have a driver’s license at the moment. Today is my day to ferry her home, and I’ve failed. I have lost my sister. How is that even possible? We were in the same place, albeit on different floors. Ugh.

I tap my nails against the back of the phone, as I try not to let my anxiety get out of hand. Sabina probably just went down to the cafeteria ahead of me. She just got sick of waiting, which is another huge change in her. Before her accident, Sabina was one of the most patient people I had ever met. Now it seems like she doesn’t have time for anything.

My phone dings, alerting me to an unread text message. Relief swamps my body. I scroll to my messaging app, and see that Sabina responded. I’m walking home. I frown, not sure how to respond. There’s no reason that Sabina shouldn’t walk home, but I still feel guilty, like I have failed her and my family. I chew the inside of my cheek. I suppose I could head out right now and find her, but I’m guessing that she doesn’t want me to. More and more lately, she has just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, Jackie.”

I glance up and see Gemma coming toward me. We work together periodically. I smile and give her a half wave. “Hey, Gemma. I haven’t seen you in a while,” I say.

“I got moved down here,” she says, gesturing to the unit.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I say. “My sister, Sabina, is doing the Vet program.”

---