Page 100 of From Air

Dwight frowns but complies. “I’ll take them for you. You’d better go.”

I nod a half-dozen times. Without a goodbye, I stagger toward the bathroom.

“Jamie?” One of the other nurses tries to stop me, but I keep going.

When I reach the toilet, I retch, but nothing comes out. Sweat beads along my forehead. With clammy hands, I pull my hair away from my face.

“Jamie, are you okay?” She rests her hand on my back.

“No.” I grit my teeth, hugging my stomach.

“I’ll get someone to cover. Go home, hon. Do you need me to get you a ride?”

The room spins when I stand upright. My hands reach for the sides of the stall. It’s a coincidence—an improbable coincidence—but not impossible.

“Jamie?”

I shake my head with each wobbly step toward the sink. Turning the cold water on to splash it onto my face.

She hands me a wad of paper towels.

“Thank you.” I blot my face. “I can drive.”

“You sure?”

I nod.

“Okay. Feel better.”

When she leaves me alone, I stare at my reflection; all I see is my mom. I have her brown eyes. My finger slides along my face where she had her scar.

“It can’t be,” I whisper.

As soon as I get to my car, I call Melissa. She doesn’t answer, so I text her.

Jaymes: Call me right away!!!!

Two blocks from the hospital, Melissa calls me.

“Mel—”

“Jesus, is everything all right?” Panic strangles her voice.

“No. I-I don’t know. A patient said something.” I grip the steering wheel tighter to stop my hands from shaking. “He’s the bear guy.” I press the heel of my hand to my chest. My heart won’t stop racing. It doesn’t feel right.

“The bear guy?”

“A bear killed his wife, and he started this huge fire, and he’s thought I’m his wife. Then his daughter—”

“Jaymes, slow down, babe. Breathe.”

I nod. “Breathe. Yes. Breathe.” It’s hard to breathe. I have to figure this out. It doesn’t make sense.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“On my way home.”

“Maybe you should pull over.”

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