15. Elle

FIFTEEN

Elle

7:47 pm

I watch Justin gather his things, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me is touched that he rushed here as soon as he heard about my accident and subsequent coma. But another part, a more prominent part if I'm being honest, is frustrated that his visit coincided with the very day I woke up.

"Thanks for coming, Justin," I say, trying to muster genuine warmth in my voice. "It means a lot that you made the trip."

He pauses at the door, his eyes glistening. "Of course, Elle. I... I was so scared when I got the call. The thought of losing you wrecked me."

I resist the urge to sigh. This day has been a whirlwind, and my mind is still foggy as I try to piece together the lost time. The last thing I need is to deal with Justin's rekindled feelings.

"I'll be okay," I assure him, hoping to cut off any further emotional declarations. "Really. The doctors say I'm improving."

He nods, wiping at his eyes. "I just want you to know, Elle. These past few days, I've been a basket case. I'm just glad you're okay. I love you, Elle."

There it is—the confession I've been dreading since he walked in. Justin has always been a source of comfort, reliable, and steady. But as I look at him now, I'm more confident than ever that my love for him isn't romantic. And the likely reality is it never truly was.

"Justin," I start gently, "I care about you, too. And I'm so grateful for you and your concern for me. You drove all this way. Thank you. You're a good man, and I'm lucky to have you in my life."

He lingers as he is about to leave. He has been here for over four hours now. That is a long time, especially with this craziness so fresh. I want peace, and my body is begging for rest.

I know he wants me to ask him to stay with me. I hate the thought of him having to get a hotel room. But I would have told him to stay in Gainesville if he had asked before making the drive.

Just like with the breakup, I have to be careful of the signals I send to him. If I let him sleep on the sofa in my room, that would open up a glimmer of hope that it means something more. I can't cross that line with him.

He needs to go for him and for me.

As he leaves, I let out a long breath—one more complication in an already complicated situation. My mind drifts to Shep, and I wonder why I haven't seen him again. He promised to come back by.

11:55 pm

I open my eyes, blinking away the haze of sleep as the nurse comes in to take some vitals. I may have dozed off for a while, but I've been tossing and turning for the last hour.

"How are you feeling, Elle?"

"Tired, but having a hard time sleeping. Otherwise, I'm okay."

"I have orders to give you something to help you sleep if you want something?"

"No, I'm okay right now. I'll let you know if I need something. Thank you."

I probably should take something. I have enough drugs in me already. What's a few more? It's not like I have anything to do tomorrow except hope this damn nightmare ends soon.

Once the nurse leaves, the hospital room is dim. Only the soft glow of monitors breaks through the darkness. My parents left hours ago, finally convinced I wouldn't slip away the moment they stepped out. At least they understand that visits are pleasant, but I also need some downtime.

Unlike some others. I sigh, thinking of Justin's prolonged visit earlier. His tearful confessions of love felt more draining than touching.

My gaze drifts to the empty chair beside my bed. Shep. Where is he? He's the one warm body I wouldn't mind being here with me.

I grab my phone to check the time, wincing as the bright screen illuminates. It's past Opie's bedtime, I realize with a pang. In just a few days at Shep's house, I've already memorized their nightly routine. Bath time at 7, stories at 7:30, lights out by 8.

A knot forms in my stomach. Did something change? Was Shep's absence just a fluke, or...? My mind races, replaying our earlier conversation. He'd seemed so sincere about wanting to explore things between us. But now, radio silence.

Being stuck here feels so helpless. I don't feel like I can call him. So instead, I have to lie in this fucking bed and hope he comes by.

I try to push away the creeping doubts, but they cling stubbornly. What if he freaked out after opening up? What if that was just emotion talking because I have been so ill? I don't think that is too crazy of a possibility.

I close my eyes, willing sleep to come. It feels futile. My brain is in overdrive, conjuring worst-case scenarios. It's going to be a long night.

Tuesday, July 16

7:08 am

I blink my eyes open, momentarily disoriented by the soft clicking sound nearby. As my vision clears, I see Mom sitting in the chair beside my bed, her knitting needles moving rhythmically.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she says, noticing I'm awake.

"Morning, Mom," I croak, my voice still raspy from the intubation. "What time is it? How long have you been here?"

She sets her knitting aside. "It's just past 9 AM. I got here about an hour ago."

I stretch carefully, mindful of the IV lines and monitors still attached to me. "I must've been out cold. I don't even remember the nurses coming in for vitals."

Mom smiles. "That's because they didn't. I was walking up when they did rounds earlier. They said you're doing so well, they'll probably move you out of ICU today."

"Really?" A surge of relief washes over me. "That's great news."

"It certainly is," Mom agrees. "No more constant beeping and poking and prodding every hour or two. You'll be able to get some real rest."

I nod, grateful for the prospect of a quieter recovery space. As much as I appreciate the attentive care in the ICU, the idea of a regular room sounds heavenly right now.

"Did the doctor say anything else?" I ask, curious about my progress.

"Your vitals have stabilized nicely, and your latest blood work looks good. They'll do a more thorough check once you're settled in the new room."

I let out a contented sigh, feeling genuinely optimistic for the first time since waking up from the coma. It's a small but essential step on the road to recovery.

As I digest the news about my potential move out of the ICU, Dr. Reeves walks in, clipboard in hand. His presence immediately puts me on alert, but his smile is reassuring.

"Good morning, Ms. Klass," he greets me warmly. "I have some excellent news for you."

I sit up straighter, my heart quickening. "What is it, Dr. Reeves?"

"Your blood work came back perfectly," he announces, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Your treatment was executed flawlessly, and we got you on powerful antibiotics in time to prevent any apparent long-term effects from the infection."

A wave of relief washes over me, and my mom squeezes my hand.

Dr. Reeves continues, "Now, you're not entirely out of the woods yet regarding the infection. We'll need to keep you on IV antibiotics for at least a week. But your major organs appear to be unscathed."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "That's... that's incredible news. Thank you, Dr. Reeves."

He nods, then adds, "You owe a debt of gratitude to Dr. Duncan for acting so swiftly and getting you the care you needed. His quick thinking likely made all the difference."

I feel a twinge in my chest at the mention of Shep's name. Where is he? Will I see him again? I push the thought aside, focusing on the good news at hand.

"I can't thank you all enough," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm just thrilled about this report, considering everything that's happened."

Dr. Reeves smiles warmly. "You're very welcome, Ms. Klass. We'll continue monitoring you closely, but things look very promising."

7:36 pm

I'm propped up in my new bed, watching Isabella and my mom flit around the room like two hummingbirds. The step-down unit is a definite upgrade from the ICU—more space, less beeping, and a window that shows something other than another wing of the hospital.

"Elle, honey, do you want your pillow fluffed?" Mom asks, already reaching behind my head.

I can't help but chuckle. "Mom, I'm fine. Really."

Isabella emerges from the attached bathroom, arms full of my toiletries. "I've arranged everything just how you like it, Elle. Your face wash is on the left, moisturizer on the right."

"Thanks, Iz," I say, touched by her thoughtfulness.

My best friend moves to the window seat and demonstrates how it converts to a bed. "Look at this! Now, your mom can stay comfortably if she wants."

Mom nods approvingly. "That's wonderful. I might take advantage of that tonight."

There's a soft knock at the door as they continue to bust around, arranging flowers and adjusting curtains. A woman in scrubs enters, her smile warm and professional.

"Hello, I'm Nurse Jen," she introduces herself. "I'll be taking over for the night shift."

"Hi, Nurse Jen," I greet her. "I'm Elle, and this is my mom and my friend Isabella."

Jen nods to each of them before turning back to me. "How are you feeling, Elle? Settling in okay?"

"Much better, thanks," I reply. "It's nice to have a change of scenery."

As Nurse Jen checks my vitals and goes over my care plan for the evening, I am grateful for the support surrounding me. Yet, there's a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach—a certain neurosurgeon-shaped absence that I'm trying hard not to dwell on.

I can't help but glance at my phone for the hundredth time today. No messages, no missed calls. Nothing from Shep. The silence is deafening, and a familiar ache settles in my chest.

The entire day has gone by with no word from him. I find myself replaying our last conversation in my head. The way he looked at me, the softness in his voice when he said he wanted to explore dating. It felt so real, so promising. But now? Now it feels like maybe that was part of the weirdness of those first few hours after waking up, trying to separate dreams from reality...

I try to rationalize it. Maybe he's busy with surgeries. Maybe there's an emergency with Opie. But deep down, I know better. This feeling, this gut-wrenching silence, it's all too familiar.

It's just like before when he left for med school without so much as a backward glance. He slowly pulled away, consumed by his ambitions, until there was nothing left of us. When the decision presented itself, I was not considered. I remember the nights I spent waiting for a call that never came, the plans we made that he never showed up for.

Maybe a bigger, better deal came up again. Perhaps I'll never know because history seems to be repeating itself. One moment, he's by my bedside, holding my hand and talking about a future. The next, he's gone, vanished into thin air like he never existed.

The worst part is that I let myself hope. I was in a vulnerable state after the whirlwind of all of that. I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time, that we could make up for lost time and heal old wounds.

The hours tick by without a word from him. That hope continues to whither away, leaving behind a bitter taste of disappointment.

I close my eyes, willing the tears not to fall. I won't cry over Shep Duncan. Not again. I've done enough of that to last a lifetime.

Wednesday, July 17

2:08 pm

Mom settles into the chair beside me, and a comfortable silence falls between us. After a moment, she says, "I almost forgot to ask—how was that conference in LA last week? The one about... marine conservation, right?"

My heart sinks a little. "I talked to a few colleagues, and they tried to downplay it, but it went well. I hate that I missed it because of all this," I gesture vaguely at my surroundings. "But there will be another one next year. Dr. Sylvia Earle was giving the keynote speech."

"Honey. I'm so sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to it."

I lean back, closing my eyes for a moment. "Yeah, it is always a great conference. I look forward to it every year. They were unveiling new research on coral reef restoration techniques. You know how passionate I am about that."

My mom nods. "You've done so much great work with that."

"It's just... these reefs, Mom. They're not just beautiful. They're entire ecosystems, teeming with life. And they're dying at an alarming rate." I can feel the familiar fire igniting in my chest as I speak. "But there's hope. We're developing new methods to regrow coral and create artificial reefs supporting diverse marine life."

I pause, realizing I'm getting carried away. But my mom is smiling, her eyes shining with pride.

"Tell me more," she says softly.

So I do. I tell her about the projects I'm involved in and the small victories we've had in restoring damaged reefs off the coast of Florida. I describe the feeling of diving among these underwater cities, watching fish dart in and out of the coral structures we've helped rebuild.

"It's like being part of something bigger than yourself," I explain, my voice filled with wonder. "Every time I see a new species return to a restored area, I feel like we're making a real difference."

As I talk, I can feel some of the tension and worry of the past few days melting away. This is what I love, what drives me. Even stuck in this hospital bed, talking about my work reignites my passion and determination.

My mom reaches out and squeezes my hand. "I'm so proud of you, Eloise. The work you're doing... it's important. You're changing the world, one reef at a time."

I laugh, but her words mean so much to me. No one loves you like your mom.

As we continue chatting about my work, my gaze drifts towards the hallway window. Suddenly, my heart skips a beat. Shep is standing just outside.

For a moment, hope flutters in my chest. Is he coming to see me? But as I watch, he leans against the nurses' station counter, a charming smile playing on his lips as he talks to the nurse behind it. My stomach twists as I see the easy way they interact and the familiarity in their body language.

Then, to my horror, the nurse stands up and throws her arms around Shep's neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I feel the color drain from my face.

Mom must sense my distress because she turns to look at what has my face contorted, concern etched on her features. Following my gaze, she quickly walks over to the window and draws the curtains closed, blocking out the scene in the hallway.

"Elle, honey? Are you okay?" she asks, coming back to my bedside.

I try to nod but can't seem to make my body respond. Now I know why he hasn't been by to see me in two days.

The image of Shep and that nurse is seared into my mind, replaying on an endless loop. There's that charming playboy surgeon I heard about. I have to give it to him. He is charming. He can spin a web that pulls you in and makes you feel like you're the only one.

How could I have been so foolish?