Page 13 of Free Heart
“Sejin, you sleep too, alright? Not here.” I struggle to get that out. The chorus of the song is my favorite part, and I squeeze his hand. “Promise.”
“We’ll see.”
The soft patter of the rap verse begins, and I suddenly need to make Sejin understand. “Hey.”
“Stop talking,” he says gently.
“I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
I search my mind, but whatever it was I’d needed to say has fled, and I’m left with only one important concept he needs to really understand: “I love you, Doc.”
I feel him lift my hand and kiss my fingers. I fall away into a darkness that’s soothing and warm, like being inside Sejin’s body, like holding him while we sleep. If the darkness held his smile too, I might never want to come back out.
But only Sejin can give me that.
So, I know I’ll wake up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sejin
“Don’t be amartyr, babe,” Rye says over the phone.
He’s at Peggy Jo’s house now, having popped an allergy pill to take care of the cats for me. I texted Celli earlier to let her know she’s off the hook for tonight, but that I’ll still need her to go over tomorrow morning at least.
“Look, he’s going to be asleep on those drugs all night long, and then they’ll knock him out even more before surgery, and he won’t be out ofthatuntil probably noon or so. Those things take hours.”
I want to ask him how he knows all this, but maybe it’s just part of his EMT and rescue training? Or maybe he has personal experience. I don’t know.
“Believe me, Dan won’t even know you’re gone.”
“But what if he needs me?”
“He’s in good hands there. You need some rest. Get an Uber to a motel and sleep in a real bed at least.”
I ponder my financial situation. I have a credit card my father gave me when I left West Virginia with instructions to only use it in an emergency. I suppose this counts. The nurses had mentioned the motel across from the hospital isn’t too expensive or terrible, and a lot of patients’ families stay there.
“What if he wakes up and asks for me?”
“He’ll be asleep again before they can even explain where you went.”
I both want to believe him and don’t want to believe him. I’m exhausted, and I feel like I could use a shower more than a bed.It’s the lure of feeling clean, and not like I’m stewing in my own disgusting sweat, that leads me to make the decision to go.
The motel is just like any other. I check in without issue on the card my dad gave me, noting that it’s only four months from expiring, and until now I’ve never used it once. I take my key and climb the exterior, concrete steps up to the second-floor rooms and enter mine without problem.
The place isn’t beautiful, but it’ll do for a shower and a night’s sleep.
The spread over the bed is brown floral—of course—as I collapse on it with my backpack still on. I work it off my shoulders and then flip over to lie staring up at the popcorn plastered ceiling.
God, what a fucking horrible day.
Was it only this morning that I woke to find Dan’s van gone? And I’d left the cats with nothing more than egg scraps in their bowls? Even if Rye’s great with them, they’ll be very angry when I get back; I’m sure of it. They’re like that.
Was it only this morning that I stood in the meadow certain that Dan was dead or dying? Was it only hours ago that I’d been reassured he’d live—barring unforeseen events? Was it less than an hour ago that I left him alone in the hospital? And was itreallyonly slightly more than an hour ago that he’d asked me when he could starttraining again?
“Oh, God,” I whisper, and it comes out like a sob.
